Driven from Home: Carl Crawford's Experience

Carl ARRIVES in Milford.

The tramp stopped short, and eyed Carl’s small defender, first with curious surprise, and then with derision.

“Out of my way, you midget!” he cried, “or ’ll hurt you.”

“Try it!” said the little man, showing no sign of fear.

“Why, you’re no bigger than a kid.  I can upset you with one finger.”

He advanced contemptuously, and laid his hand on the shoulder of the dwarf.  In an instant Jennings had swung his flail-like arms, and before the tramp understood what was happening he was lying flat on his back, as much to Carl’s amazement as his own.

He leaped to his feet with an execration, and advanced again to the attack.  To be upset by such a pigmy was the height of mortification.

“I’m going to crush you, you mannikin!” he threatened.

Jennings put himself on guard.  Like many small men, he was very powerful, as his broad shoulders and sinewy arms would have made evident to a teacher of gymnastics.  He clearly understood that this opponent was in deadly earnest, and he put out all the strength which he possessed.  The result was that his large-framed antagonist went down once more, striking his head with a force that nearly stunned him.

It so happened that at this juncture reinforcements arrived.  A sheriff and his deputy drove up in an open buggy, and, on witnessing the encounter, halted their carriage and sprang to the ground.

“What is the matter, Mr. Jennings?” asked the sheriff, respectfully, for the little man was a person of importance in that vicinity.

“That gentleman is trying to extort a forced loan, Mr. Cunningham.”

“Ha! a footpad?”

“Yes.”

The sheriff sprang to the side of the tramp, who was trying to rise, and in a trice his wrists were confined by handcuffs.

“I think I know you, Mike Frost,” he said.  “You are up to your old tricks.  When did you come out of Sing Sing?”

“Three weeks since,” answered the tramp, sullenly.

“They want you back there.  Come along with me!”

He was assisted into the buggy, and spent that night in the lockup.

“Did he take anything from you, Carl?” asked Mr. Jennings.

“No, sir; but I was in considerable danger.  How strong you are!” he added, admiringly.

“Strength isn’t always according to size!” said the little man, quietly.  “Nature gave me a powerful, though small, frame, and I have increased my strength by gymnastic exercise.”

Mr. Jennings did not show the least excitement after his desperate contest.  He had attended to it as a matter of business, and when over he suffered it to pass out of his mind.  He took out his watch and noted the time.

“It is later than I thought,” he said.  “I think I shall have to give up my plan of walking the rest of the way.”

“Then I shall be left alone,” thought Carl regretfully.

Just then a man overtook them in a carriage.

He greeted Mr. Jennings respectfully.

“Are you out for a long walk?” he said.

“Yes, but I find time is passing too rapidly with me.  Are you going to
Milford?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Can you take two passengers?”

“You and the boy?”

“Yes; of course I will see that you don’t lose by it.”

“I ought not to charge you anything, Mr. Jennings.  Several times you have done me favors.”

“And I hope to again, but this is business.  If a dollar will pay you, the boy and I will ride with you.”

“It will be so much gain, as I don’t go out of my way.”

“You can take the back seat, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings.  “I will sit with Mr. Leach.”

They were soon seated and on their way.

“Relative of yours, Mr. Jennings?” asked Leach, with a backward glance at Carl.

Like most country folks, he was curious about people.  Those who live in cities meet too many of their kind to feel an interest in strangers.

“No; a young friend,” answered Jennings, briefly.

“Goin’ to visit you?”

“Yes, I think he will stay with me for a time.”

Then the conversation touched upon Milford matters in which at present Carl was not interested.

After his fatiguing walk our hero enjoyed the sensation of riding.  The road was a pleasant one, the day was bright with sunshine and the air vocal with the songs of birds.  For a time houses were met at rare intervals, but after a while it became evident that they were approaching a town of considerable size.

“Is this Milford, Mr. Jennings?” asked Carl.

“Yes,” answered the little man, turning with a pleasant smile.

“How large is it?”

“I think there are twelve thousand inhabitants.  It is what Western people call a ‘right smart place.’  It has been my home for twenty years, and I am much attached to it.”

“And it to you, Mr. Jennings,” put in the driver.

“That is pleasant to hear,” said Jennings, with a smile.

“It is true.  There are few people here whom you have not befriended.”

“That is what we are here for, is it not?”

“I wish all were of your opinion.  Why, Mr. Jennings, when we get a city charter I think I know who will be the first mayor.”

“Not I, Mr. Leach.  My own business is all I can well attend to.  Thank you for your compliment, though.  Carl, do you see yonder building?”

He pointed to a three-story structure, a frame building, occupying a prominent position.

“Yes, sir.”

“That is my manufactory.  What do you think of it?”

“I shouldn’t think a town of this size would require so large an establishment,” answered Carl.

Mr. Jennings laughed.

“You are right,” he said.  “If I depended on Milford trade, a very small building would be sufficient.  My trade is outside.  I supply many dealers in New York City and at the West.  My retail trade is small.  If any of my neighbors want furniture they naturally come to me, and I favor them as to price out of friendly feeling, but I am a manufacturer and wholesale dealer.”

“I see, sir.”

“Shall I take you to your house, Mr. Jennings?” asked Leach.

“Yes, if you please.”

Leach drove on till he reached a two-story building of Quaker-like simplicity but with a large, pleasant yard in front, with here and there a bed of flowers.  Here he stopped his horse.

“We have reached our destination, Carl,” said Mr. Jennings.  “You are active.  Jump out and I will follow.”

Carl needed no second invitation.  He sprang from the carriage and went forward to help Mr. Jennings out.

“No, thank you, Carl,” said the little man.  “I am more active than you think.  Here we are!”

He descended nimbly to the ground, and, drawing a one-dollar bill from his pocket, handed it to the driver.

“I don’t like to take it, Mr. Jennings,” said Mr. Leach.

“Why not?  The laborer is worthy of his hire.  Now, Carl, let us go into the house.”