Joe the Hotel Boy

DAYS AT THE HOTEL.

“Perhaps those fellows have learned a lesson they won’t forget in a hurry,” remarked Frank to Joe, after he learned the particulars of the attack in the dark.

“I hope they don’t molest me further,” answered our hero.  “If they’ll only let me alone I’ll let them alone.”

“That Sagger is certainly on the downward path,” said Frank.  “If he doesn’t look out he’ll land in jail.”

What Frank said was true, and less than a week later they heard through another hotel boy that Jack Sagger had been arrested for stealing some lead pipe out of a vacant residence.  The pipe had been sold to a junkman for thirty cents and the boy had spent the proceeds on a ticket for a cheap theater and some cigarettes.  He was sent to the House of Correction, and that was the last Joe heard of him.

With the coming of winter the hotel filled up and Joe was kept busy from morning to night, so that he had little time for studying.  He performed his duties faithfully and the hotel proprietor was much pleased in consequence.

“Joe is all right,” he said to his cashier, “I can trust him with anything.”

“That’s so, and he is very gentlemanly, too,” replied the cashier.

Ulmer Montgomery was still at the hotel.  He was now selling antiquaries, and our hero often watched the fellow with interest.  He suspected that Montgomery was a good deal of a humbug, but could not prove it.

At length Montgomery told Joe that he was going to the far West to try his fortunes.  The man seemed to like our hero, and the night before he left the hotel he called Joe into his room.

“I want to make you a present of some books I own,” said Ulmer Montgomery.  “Perhaps you’ll like to read them.  They are historical works.”

“Thank you, Mr. Montgomery, you are very kind.”

“I used to be a book agent, but I gave that up as it didn’t pay me as well as some other things.”

“And you had these books left over?”

“Yes.  The firm I worked for wouldn’t take them back so I had to keep them.”

“And now you are selling curiosities.”

At this Ulmer Montgomery smiled blandly.

“Not exactly, Joe—­I only sell curiosities, or antiquities, when I am hard up.  On other occasions I do like other folks, work for a living.”

“I don’t quite understand.”

“I dropped into selling curiosities when I was in the South and hard up for cash.  I wanted money the worst way, and I—­well, I set to work to raise it.  Maybe you’d like to hear my story.”

“I would.”

“Mind you, I don’t pose as a model of goodness and I shouldn’t advise you to follow in my footsteps.  But I wanted money and wanted in badly.  So I put on my thinking cap, and I soon learned of a very zealous antiquary living about five miles from where I was stopping.  He was wealthy and a bachelor, and spent no inconsiderable portion of his income on curiosities.”

“And you went to him?” said Joe, becoming interested.

“I at once determined to take advantage of this gentleman’s antiquarian zeal.  I will own that I had some qualms of conscience—­about imposing upon the old gentleman, but I didn’t know of any other way to procure the money I absolutely needed.

“Having made all of my preparations, I set off for Mr. Leland’s house.  To disguise myself I put on a pair of big goggles and an old-fashioned collar and tie.

“’I understand, Mr. Leland, that you are in the habit of collecting curiosities,’ I said.

“‘Quite right, sir,’ said he.  ‘I have got together some few,’ and he gazed with an air of pride at the nondescript medley which surrounded him.

“‘I have in my possession,’ I proceeded, ’two or three of great value, which I had hoped to retain, but, well, I need money, and so I must part with them, much as I wish to call them mine.  But I wish to see that they get into the proper hands, and I have been told that you are a great antiquarian, understanding the true value of such things, and so—­’

“‘Pray, show them to me at once!’ cried the old man, eagerly.

“‘I have traveled a good deal, and been a pilgrim in many climes,’ I went on.  ’I have wandered along the banks of the Euphrates and dipped my feet in the currents of the Nile.  I have gazed upon ruined cities—­’

“‘Yes! yes! show me what you have!’ he cried, eagerly.

“‘Here is a curiosity of the highest order’, I said, opening a paper and showing a bit of salt about the size of a walnut.  ’This is a portion of the statue of salt into which Lot’s wife was turned.’

“‘Is it possible?’ cried the antiquary, taking the salt and gazing at it in deep veneration.  ‘Are you quite certain of this?’

“‘I am,’ I answered.  ’It is a portion of the wrist.  I broke it off myself.  The hand was already gone.’”

“And did he buy it?” questioned Joe, in astonishment.

“He did, and gave me fifty dollars in cash for it.”

“But that wasn’t fair, Mr. Montgomery.”

The seller of bogus curiosities shrugged his shoulders.

“Perhaps not.  But I was hard up and had to do something.”

“Did you sell him anything else?”

“I did—­a walking stick, which I had procured in Connecticut.  It was covered with strange carvings and he mistook them for hieroglyphics, and gave me ten dollars for the thing.”

“I don’t see how you could have the nerve to do such things, Mr. Montgomery.”

“Well, a man can do lots of things when he is driven to do them.  I admit the deals were rather barefaced, but, as I said before, I had to do something.  Some day, when I am rich, I’ll return the money to the old fellow,” added the impostor.

He left the hotel that morning, and it may be said here that Joe did not meet him again for several years.

Christmas came and went at the hotel, and our hero received several presents from his friends, including a pair of gloves from Ned Talmadge and a five-dollar gold piece from Felix Gussing.  Some of the regular boarders at the hotel also remembered him.

“And how do you like married life?” asked Joe, of Felix Gussing.

“We are getting along very nicely,” said the dude.

“Have you told your wife about the duel yet?”

“No,—­and I don’t think I shall,” added Felix Gussing.  “You see she—­er—­she thinks me a very brave man and—­”

“And you don’t want her to change her opinion,” finished Joe, with a smile!

“Why should I, Joe.”

“Oh, I don’t know as there is any reason, excepting that they usually say men and their wives should have no secrets from each other.”

“Mr. Montgomery is gone, I see,” said the dude, changing the subject.

“Yes, sir.”

“Then you are the only one who knows of this secret.  You won’t tell, will you?”

“No, sir.”

“We are having troubles enough as it is,” went on the dude.  “Both my wife and I find housekeeping rather troublesome.  It is hard to obtain proper servants, and she does not care to do the work herself.”

“Why don’t you go to boarding?”

“Perhaps we will, later on.”

With the new year came a heavy fall of snow and soon sleighs big and little were in demand.  Then came a slight fall of rain which made the sidewalks a glare of ice.

“Got to be careful,” announced Frank to Joe.  “If you don’t you’ll go down on your back.”

“I intend to be careful,” answered our hero.  “I have no wish to break any bones.”

That afternoon Joe was sent on an errand to a place of business half a mile away.  On returning he chanced to stop at a street corner, to watch a number of children who had made a long slide for themselves.

As he stood watching, a man came along bundled up in a great coat and wearing a slouch hat and blue glasses.  The man was walking rapidly, as if in a hurry.

“That fellow looks familiar to me,” thought Joe.  “Wonder who he can be?”

He watched the stranger cross the street.  Then the fellow happened to step on the icy slide and in a twinkling he went down on his back, his hat flying in one direction and a bundle he carried in another.

“Hurrah!  Down goes the gent!” sang out a newsboy standing near.

“Come here an’ I’ll pick yer up!” said another street urchin.

“You rascals, you fixed this on purpose so I should fall!” cried the man, starting to get up.

“Can I help you?” questioned Joe, coming up, and then he gave a start, as he recognized the fellow.

It was Pat Malone, alias David Ball, from Montana!