Julius, The Street Boy

CHAPTER VII.

BROOKVILLE

Though there was plenty of excitement and novelty attending the journey, Julius and his companions looked forward with eager interest to the hour when they would reach their destination. Where were they to live, and what sort of homes would they obtain? These were questions which naturally arose in the minds of all.

Hour after hour the train sped onward with its living freight. The boys looked out upon the broad fields, smiling in the sunlight, and bright-looking villages scattered along the route, and wondered if their future homes would look anything like them.

At last the moment approached when their curiosity was to be gratified.

“Boys, the next town is Brookville,” said Mr. O’Connor, passing through the cars.

“Are we goin’ to stop there?” asked Teddy.

“Yes; that is where we get out of the cars.”

Soon a large village came in sight. It was quite thickly settled, and the streets were broad and regular. The boys could see various public buildings, besides a large number of dwelling houses. The place looked quite attractive, and the boys’ faces lighted up with pleasure.

“I say, Teddy,” said Julius, “Brookville’s a nice place.”

“Don’t look much like New York,” said Teddy, dubiously.

“Of course it don’t. The country ain’t like the city, stupid.”

“I guess it’s a pretty good place,” said Teddy. “I hope we’ll live near each other.”

“I hope so, too; but maybe not. You may live somewhere else.”

“Shan’t we all live here?”

“No; I heard Mr. O’Connor say we’d be scattered around among the towns, but I’m goin’ to live here.”

“How do you know you are?”

“‘Cause I’ve got a letter to Mr. Taylor’s nephew. He lives in Brookville.”

“P’rhaps he’ll want two boys.”

“Maybe he will.”

“What’s that?” asked Teddy, as the sound of music was heard.

“It’s a band—don’t you see it?—on the platform. What a crowd of people!”

“Boys,” said Mr. O’Connor, “that music is for you. The citizens have come out to welcome you. Now I will tell you what you must do. You will follow me out of the cars as soon as the train stops, form two by two on the platform, and then you may swing your hats, and shout, ‘Three cheers for Brookville!’ Will you do it?”

“All right, sir,” said the boys, eagerly.

They were already within a few rods of the station. Speed was already slackened, and in a moment the cars had stopped.

“Now, boys, form in line after the other passengers have left the car,” said the superintendent. “Then follow me.”

His directions were carefully followed, and in five minutes the little company were drawn up on the platform. Many curious eyes were fixed upon them by those who had come to meet them, and some were already selecting those whom they desired to adopt.

“Now, boys,” said the superintendent, when order was obtained, “what have you to say to the ladies and gentlemen who have been kind enough to come here to meet you?”

“Three cheers for Brookville!” shouted Tim Shanter, who, it had been agreed, should act as leader.

The cheers were given with a will, and with such emphasis that it was clear none of the boys as yet was troubled with weak lungs.

Then the band struck up again, and after they had concluded, one of the citizens came forward and addressed Mr. O’Connor.

“Mr. O’Connor, I presume?” he said.

“That is my name, sir. You were expecting us?”

“Yes; we received your telegram, and have made arrangements to receive you. First, however, let me introduce myself. My name is Taylor.”

“Ephraim Taylor?”

“Yes,” said the other, in some surprise.

“You wonder that I know your name,” said Mr. O’Connor. “I met an uncle of yours while traveling in the State of New York, and he gave one of our boys a letter to you.”

“Indeed!”

“It was a boy,” exclaimed the superintendent, “who had an opportunity of being of service to him.”

“In what way, may I ask?”

“He detected a pickpocket in the act of taking your uncle’s gold watch, and warned him of it. Julius, come here!”

Julius stepped out of the ranks. Mr. Taylor looked at him earnestly.

“I hear that you fell in with my uncle,” he said.

“Yes, sir. He give me a letter for you.”

“Let me see it.”

Julius drew the letter from his pocket and handed it to Mr. Taylor.

The letter read as follows:

“My Dear Nephew: This will be handed to you by a boy who has done me a service, the nature of which the superintendent will explain to you. I do not know how you are situated, or whether you require the services of a boy. If you do, I think you can’t do better than to take this one. He is bright, sharp, and, as I have reason to believe, honest. I shall be glad if he can secure a good home.

Julius had already examined critically the personal appearance of Mr. Taylor, whom he regarded as his future employer and guardian. His past life had made him a good and quick observer of character. Street boys, obliged to fight their way, and struggle for a livelihood, are by their circumstances made preternaturally sharp. They acquire a judgment and self-reliance beyond their years, however defective they may be in the knowledge to be gained from books. Engaged in reading his uncle’s letter, Mr. Taylor did not notice the keen glance with which Julius regarded him. But the result was favorable.

“I guess I’ll like him,” said our hero to himself. “He looks like he might be kind. I hope he’ll take me.”

Mr. Taylor looked up with a smile.

“My uncle wants me to take you, my lad,” he said.

“Will you?” asked Julius.

“What do you say, Mr. O’Connor?” said Mr. Taylor. “Will you intrust this young man to me?”

“I shall be glad to do so,” said the superintendent. “I will ask you to leave him with us till to-morrow, however, as applications will not generally be accepted till then.”

“I have no objection to that. Now let me tell you what arrangements we have made for your reception. How many children have you in your company?”

“Fifty-two.”

“It is as I supposed. There are more than can be lodged at our hotel, which is small. They could receive but twenty there, and the remainder can be accommodated in a hall we have in the village.”

“I should prefer that they would not be separated. I would rather have them all under my own eye for to-night,” said the superintendent.

“Very well; then perhaps it will be best for all to be accommodated in the hall. There are two halls, in fact; and bedding can be placed on the floor. It won’t be quite so comfortable as it would be at the hotel.”

“Our boys are used to roughing it,” said Mr. O’Connor. “Many a night in the city they have slept out in old wagons or alleyways. It won’t hurt them to sleep on the floor.”

“The hall is about half a mile distant. I will lead the way, and you may get settled at once.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Tim Shanter, see that the boys walk in line,” said the superintendent. “I appoint you captain, Mr. Taylor, and I will go on ahead, and you will follow us.”

So the procession moved through the village, attracting curious glances from the inhabitants as it passed along. The boys on their side used their eyes to advantage. They were delighted with the fields of grass, the trees now in full leaf, the flower-plots in front of some of the houses, and the singing of the birds. There was not one of them who did not hope that he would find a home in Brookville.

CHAPTER VIII.

JULIUS HAS AN ADVENTURE

About midway in the principal street of Brookville is the town hall. It is a neat building, of considerable size, and two stories in height.

Here the procession halted, and after a pause filed in.

The boys found themselves in a large hall, with a platform and desk at one end, the body of the hall being filled with settees.

“Looks like a schoolroom,” said Teddy.

“Only there ain’t no desks,” said Julius.

“We’re to stay here all night, boys,” said Tim Shanter.

“It’s only three o’clock. What will we do till then?” said Tom Burke.

“Boys,” said Mr. O’Connor, “would you like to see something of the village?”

“Yes!” “Yes!” was heard from all quarters.

“Then for the next two hours you may go where you please, but you must be back before six.”

“All right, sir!” shouted half a dozen, and there was a rush for the door.

“Come back,” shouted the superintendent. “You haven’t heard all I have to say.”

The boys turned back reluctantly.

“You must be careful to do no mischief, and commit no trespass upon any person’s property. I want you to show our friends here that, if you have been brought up in the streets of New York, you know how to behave yourselves.”

“We will!” “We will!” shouted the boys, and in less than a minute the hall was emptied.

They separated into groups, and walked off in different directions. Julius, Teddy and Tom formed one of the parties.

“Where will we go?” said Tom.

“Come down here,” said Julius, pointing down a side street. “There’s some nice fields off there.”

“Ain’t it jolly?” said Teddy. “It’s a big sight better than New York.”

“Ain’t that a nice field for baseball?” said Julius, pointing to a large pasture some distance ahead.

“There’s lots of fields, but no ball.”

“Look there, fellers! Do you see that little pond down there?”

“Let us go there.”

“All right.”

The boys jumped over the fence, and walked in the direction of the pond. It was a small circular sheet of water, covering about two acres. On it was a small, unpainted boat, which the boys no sooner saw than they jumped into. There was but one paddle inside, which the boys used by turns. They had never before been in a boat, and were not scientific navigators; still they managed to paddle around the little pond, greatly to their satisfaction.

“I wonder if there’s any fish in this pond,” said Julius.

“I don’t see none,” said Teddy.

“If there was, it would be good fun to catch some,” said Tom.

“We could use Teddy for bait,” suggested Julius.

“I wouldn’t advise a small fish to swaller me,” said Teddy. “I’d dance a double shuffle in his stomach, and he’d soon want ter let me go.”

The boys enjoyed floating about, and time passed quickly.

“What time is it?” asked Tom.

Julius drew out his watch with an air.

“It’s five o’clock,” he said.

“We ought ter be goin’ back; Mr. O’Connor told us we must be back in time.”

They turned the boat toward shore, when all at once Tom, who was looking toward the shore, exclaimed, “What’s that, boys?”

Following the direction in which he pointed, the boys were startled by seeing a large, clumsy animal walking deliberately down toward the place where they were about to land.

They paused in their progress, and Julius, after a careful examination of the stranger, announced, “I’ll tell you what it is, boys; it’s a bear!”

“A bear!” exclaimed Tom and Teddy, simultaneously.

“Yes; I’ve seed a picture of one in Frank Leslie’s. It’s a bear, sure.”

“What will we do?” said Teddy, alarmed. “They’ll bite, won’t they?”

“I guess they will,” said Julius. “They’d kill you just as easy as winkin’.”

“I didn’t know there was any wild animals around here,” said Teddy, nervously.

“Yes,” said Tom; “there’s bears, and wolves, and panthers. I’ve read about ’em in a dime novel called ‘Pathfinder Pete; or, The Wild Hunter of the West.’ You know we are in the West now.”

“How will we get back?” asked Teddy, rather anxiously. “He’s squattin’ down, waitin’ for us.”

The bear had come to a pause, and, squatting on its hind quarters, was steadily and seriously regarding the boys with an expression which, to their excited imaginations, seemed particularly savage and bloodthirsty.

“I wish’t I had a rifle like the one ‘Pathfinder Pete’ had,” ejaculated Tom.

“You wouldn’t dare to fire it if you had one,” said Julius.

“Yes, I would. I’d fire a bullet into his right eye and then I’d fire another right into his left eye, and then he couldn’t see to chase us.”

“That would be good enough if we had a rifle,” said Julius; “but we haven’t. S’pose we land on the other side of the pond, and run for the fence.”

“Don’t yer do it!” exclaimed Teddy, in terror. “He’d catch us before we got halfway there.”

“Do bears run fast, Tom?” asked Julius, deferring to the superior knowledge of his comrade, who had had the great privilege of reading the instructive story of “Pathfinder Pete.”

“Don’t they? They can go twenty miles an hour without hurtin’ ’em.”

“They don’t look like it,” said Julius, surveying the clumsy form of the bear. “I’ll bet that bear can’t keep up with me.”

“Maybe he don’t look it, but he can run like lightnin’. ‘Pathfinder Pete’ was chased by a bear, when his rifle wasn’t loaded, an’ the only way he got off was to hide behind a tree till he’d loaded his gun, an’ then he blazed away, and keeled him over on his back.”

“Then I wish ‘Pathfinder Pete’ would happen around this afternoon. Teddy, jist sing a bit. Maybe that’ll frighten him.”

“I don’t feel like singin’,” said Teddy. “Oh, boys, how will we get home?”

“I move,” said Julius, who was least disturbed of the three, “that we pitch out Teddy. While the bear’s eatin’ him, we’ll run away.”

“Don’t yer do it,” entreated Teddy, his teeth chattering with fright.

“We won’t jest yet. Wait an’ see if he won’t go away himself.”

“He’s goin’ to swim out to us,” screamed Teddy, in fright, as the bear arose to his feet, and put one foot in the water. But he quickly withdrew it, apparently not liking the feeling.

“Do you think we’ll have to stay here all night?” asked Tom, soberly.

“If the bear don’t get tired, and go away.”

“I wish I was back at the Lodgin’ House,” said Teddy, gloomily.

The bear arose to his feet, and walked slowly around the pond, looking from time to time at the boat and the three young navigators.

“What time is it now, Julius,” asked Tom, after a while.

“Wants five minutes ter six,” said Julius.

“What’ll Mr. O’Connor think?”

“He can’t blame us for not comin’. I say, boys, I’m gettin’ hungry,” said Tom.

“So is the bear,” said Julius, significantly.

At this suggestion, Teddy turned a shade paler.

So the boys watched and waited in vain for their unwelcome visitor to depart, keeping the little boat as near the middle of the pond as possible.

“I guess we’ll have to stay all night,” said Tom.

Just at that moment the attention of the three boys was drawn to a boy of about their own age, who was walking across the field toward the pond.

“Does he see the bear, I wonder?” said Teddy.

“The bear sees him,” said Tom. “He’s goin’ for him.”

CHAPTER IX.

THE BEAR AND HIS MASTER

“Hadn’t we better holler to him to look out for the bear?” suggested Teddy.

“He sees him, and is callin’ to him,” said Julius, directly afterward.

The three boys looked on in eager excitement, to see what would come of the meeting. Teddy fully expected that the bear would appropriate the newcomer for his supper, and was very much surprised at seeing him rubbing his head against the boy’s legs, as if they were fast friends.

“Look at that,” he cried. “I don’t believe he’s a bear.”

“Yes, he is,” said Tom, confidently. “Don’t you think I know a bear when I see him?”

“I’ll ask him,” said Julius.

“Hello, there, Johnny!” he called out from the boat.

The boy looked up, and for the first time noticed the three boys.

“How did you know my name?” he asked, in surprise, for it so happened that his name was really John.

“I guessed at it,” said Julius.

“Who are you?”

“We’re New York aldermen,” said Julius, “travelin’ for our health.”

“How came you in my boat?”

“Is the boat yours?”

“Yes.”

“We thought we’d give it a little exercise, seein’ it had nothin’ to do.”

“I know who you are. You came with the agent of the Children’s Aid Society.”

“That’s so; I’m the president of the society, and these gentlemen are directors.”

“You look like it,” said the other boy, smiling.

“Is that a bear?” asked Tom, who was anxious to have the question settled.

“Yes, it is.”

“Won’t he bite?”

“Oh, no; he’s a tame bear. Ain’t you, old Bruin?”

The bear rubbed his head against his legs as before.

“Won’t he do anything to us if we come on shore?” asked Teddy, nervously.

“Oh, no; he’s as good-natured as an old dog.”

“Then we’ll land,” said Julius. “We’ve been stayin’ out here an hour, ’cause Teddy here was afraid of him.”

“You were just as much afraid as I was,” said Teddy, indignantly.

“That’s a lie. Me and Tom ain’t afraid of anything; but we wouldn’t leave you here alone.”

“Don’t you believe him,” said Teddy.

“I don’t,” said the boy on shore, laughing.

“You see,” said Julius, “that my life is valuable to my country, and I couldn’t bear to lose it. Step out, Teddy. Now tie the boat. We’d better make tracks, or Mr. O’Connor’ll scold us.”

They joined the other boy and the bear, though Teddy took care to keep as far away from the latter as he could.

“Where did you get the bear?” asked Julius. “Do they live around here?”

“No; this was taken when a cub by an uncle of mine, and when it was half-grown he gave it to me.”

“How long have you had him?”

“About five years; ever since I was nine years old.”

“Is he quite tame?”

“Oh, yes; he’s as tame as a cat.”

“Do you let him go around loose?”

“Part of the time. In the night we tie him, and keep him in the barn.”

The bear, with the desire probably of getting acquainted with different members of the party, here walked around to the further side, where Teddy was walking.

“Oh, take him away!” said the frightened boy. “He’s goin’ for me.”

“Shut up, you fool!” said Julius; “do you think he’d touch such skinny meat as you, when he could have Tom or me? He ain’t fond of pigs.”

“I wouldn’t care if he ate you or Tom,” said Teddy.

“Pat him,” said the stranger. “You’ll see how he won’t hurt you.”

Teddy did so in fear and trembling, and was at last convinced that there was nothing to fear.

“Are you going to live in Brookville?” asked the young owner of the bear.

“I am,” said Julius.

“Who are you going to live with?”

“With Mr. Taylor.”

“Mr. Ephraim Taylor?”

“Yes; what kind of a man is he?”

“He’s a good man; he’s rich, too. Did he say he’d take you?”

“Yes; I brought him a letter from his uncle. His uncle gave me this watch and chain;” and Julius displayed, not without pride, his valued treasure.

“It’s a nice one,” said the other, after examining it.

“Have you got one?”

“Not yet; my father’s going to give me one on my next birthday.”

“When will that be?”

“On the Fourth of July.”

“Was you born then?”

“Yes,” said John smiling. “They celebrate my birthday around here.”

“We do in New York, too.”

“You see I am a great man.”

“What’s your name—your whole name?”

“John Sandford.”

“Do you live near Mr. Taylor’s?”

“About half a mile.”

“Then we’ll see each other sometimes.”

“Yes; you can tell me about New York.”

“Wasn’t you ever there?”

“No; but I should like to go. It’s a very big place, isn’t it?”

“You bet it is.”

“What is the population?”

“What?”

“How many people are there in the city?”

“About ten million, I guess,” said Julius, pausing to think, and then guessing.

“There can’t be so many as that. Why, London has only a little over three millions.”

“London ain’t New York.”

“No; but it’s a good deal bigger.”

“Well, I don’t know exactly. I never counted,” said Julius.

“Are those other boys going to live in Brookville?”

“I hope I will,” said Teddy.

“So do I,” said Tom.

“Mr. O’Connor is goin’ to get places for us to-morrow,” said Julius. “I’ll tell you what, Johnny, you’d better take Teddy yourself. You could let him sleep with the bear. Only, if the bear got hungry in his sleep, maybe he’d make hash out of him.”

“That would be hash treatment,” said John, laughing. “What is your name? I’ve told you mine.”

“My name is Julius.”

“What else?”

“Nothing else.”

“Haven’t you got but one name?” asked John, surprised.

“No; what’s the use of two names?”

“Everybody has two.”

“Then, if I go to live with Mr. Taylor, I’ll call myself Julius Taylor.”

“What’s your name?” turning to Teddy.

“I’ll tell you,” said Julius. “That is the Hon. Teddy Bates, professor of boot blackin’, and this other bummer is Tom Burke, Esq., one of the most distinguished baggage-smashers in all New York.”

“I don’t often get into such good company,” said John, laughing. “Are all the rest of your company as celebrated?”

“Oh, no; they’re common loafers. Me and Tom and Teddy are–”

“Uncommon loafers, I suppose.”

“You guessed right the first time,” said Julius.

“Hello, fellers!” interrupted Tom; “there’s Pat Maloney comin’ up the road; I guess he’s comin’ for us.”

“Where’ve you fellers been?” said Pat, on meeting them. “Mr. O’Connor sent me to find you.”

“Was he mad?”

“No; he thought you’d lost your way. What’s that?” he exclaimed, suddenly, for the first time espying the bear.

“It’s a bear,” said John Sandford. “But don’t be frightened. He is tame. He won’t hurt you.”

“You’d better come quick, or you’ll lose your grub,” said Pat.

This was enough. The three boys were very hungry, and, quickening their pace, soon rejoined their companions, whom they found partaking of a substantial supper, which had been liberally supplied by the citizens of Brookville, with characteristic Western hospitality.

CHAPTER X.

A BOOTBLACK’S SPEECH

Julius and his companions were readily excused by the superintendent, on explaining the cause of their delay.

After supper was over, Mr. O’Connor said: “Boys, this is the last time you will be all together. To-morrow probably many of you will set out for new homes. Now, how shall we pass the time?”

“A speech from Corny Donovan!” cried one boy.

“Speech from Corny!” was heard from all parts of the hall.

“Corny, have you anything to say to the boys?” asked the superintendent, smiling.

Corny was a short, wiry little fellow, apparently twelve, but in reality two years older. He was noted among the boys for his drollery, and frequently amused them with his oratory. He came forward with a twinkle of merriment in his eye.

“The Honorable Corny Donovan will speak to the meetin’,” said Julius, acting as temporary chairman.

Corny took his place on the platform, and with perfect gravity took out a small, red handkerchief, and blew his nose explosively, in imitation of a gentleman who once addressed the boys at the Lodging House. The boys greeted this commencement with vociferous applause.

“Go in, Corny!” “Spit it out!” were heard from different parts of the hall.

“Boys,” said Corny, extending his right arm horizontally, “I’ve come here from my manshun in Fifth Avenoo to give you some good advice. You’re poor miserable bummers, ivery mother’s son of you. You don’t know much anyhow. Once’t I was as poor as you.” (“Hi; hi!” shouted his auditors.) “You wouldn’t think to look at my good clo’es that I was once a poor bummer like the rest of yez.” (“Yes we would. Where’s your gold watch?”) “Where’s my gold watch? I left it at home on the planner. Maybe you’d like to grow up gentlemen like me. But you can’t do it. It ain’t in you.” (“Oh, dry up!”) “Boys, where’s your manners? Don’t you know no more’n to interrupt me in my speech? Me and Mr. O’Connor have brought you out here to make men of you. We want you to grow up ‘spectable. Blackin’ boots won’t make men of you.” (“You’re only a bootblack yourself!”) “I only blacked boots for amoosement, boys. I’d have you know I used to leave my Fifth Avenoo manshun in disguise, and pass the day round Printin’ House Square, blackin’ boots, ’cause my doctor told me I must have exercise, or I’d die eatin’ too much rich food.” (“Rich hash, you mean!”) “No, I don’t. I never allow my cook to put hash on the table, ’cause you can’t tell what it’s made of, no more’n sassidges. There’s lots of dogs and cats disappear in New York, and it’s pop’larly supposed that they commits suicide; but the eatin’-house keepers know what ’comes of ’em.” (“You bet! That’s so, Corny!”)