Brave and Bold by Horatio Alger, Jr.

H >> Horatio Alger, Jr. >> Brave and Bold

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"You're a low fellow," said Halbert, angrily.

"You are welcome to your opinion," returned Robert, indifferently.

CHAPTER XVI.

ON THE RAILROAD TRACK.

Robert saw the carpenter, according to Mr. Paine's instructions, but
found him so busy that he would not engage to give his attention to the
boat under a week.

The delay was regretted by our hero, since it cut him off from the
employment by which he hoped to provide for his mother. Again Mrs.
Rushton was in low spirits.

"I am sorry you couldn't agree with Halbert Davis, Robert," she said,
with a sigh. "Then you could have stayed in the factory, and got your
wages regularly every week."

"I know that, mother, but I am not willing to have Halbert 'boss me
round,' even for a place in the factory."

"Then, Robert, you quarreled with the man you took across the river."

"I think I did right, mother," said Robert. "Don't get out of spirits. I
don't expect to succeed always. But I think I shall come out right in
the end."

"I am sure I hope so."

Mrs. Rushton was one of those who look on the dark side. She was
distrustful of the future, and apt to anticipate bad fortune. Robert was
very different. He inherited from his father an unusual amount of
courage and self-reliance, and if one avenue was closed to him, he at
once set out to find another. It is of this class that successful men
are made, and we have hopes that Robert will develop into a prosperous
and successful man.

"I am sure I don't see what you can do," said Mrs. Rushton, "and we
can't live on what I make by braiding straw."

"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Robert, "I'll go on Sligo Hill and
pick blueberries; I was passing a day or two ago, and saw the bushes
quite covered. Just give me a couple of tin pails, and I'll see what I
can do."

The pails were provided, and Robert started on his expedition. The hill
was not very high, nor was its soil very good. The lower part was used
only to pasture a few cows. But this part was thickly covered with
blueberry bushes, which this season were fuller than usual of
large-sized berries. Robert soon settled to work, and picked steadily
and rapidly. At the end of three hours he had filled both pails,
containing, as near as he could estimate, eight quarts.

"That's a pretty good afternoon's work," he said to himself. "Now I
suppose I must turn peddler, and dispose of them,"

He decided to ask ten cents a quart. Later in the season the price would
be reduced, but at that time the berries ought to command that price.

The first house at which he called was Mr. Paine's. He was about to
pass, when he saw Hester at the window. Pride suggested, "She may
despise me for being a berry peddler," but Robert had no false shame.
"At any rate, I won't be coward enough to try to hide it from her."
Accordingly he walked up boldly to the door, and rang the bell.

Hester had seen him from the window, and she answered the bell herself.

"I am glad to see you, Robert," she said, frankly. "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you," said our hero, "but I called on business."

"You will find my father in his office," she said, looking a little
disappointed.

Robert smiled.

"My business is not of a legal character," he said. "I've turned
peddler, and would like to sell you some blueberries."

"Oh, what nice berries! Where did you pick them?"

"On Sligo."

"I am sure mother will buy some. Will you wait a minute while I go and
ask her?"

"I will wait as long as you like."

Hester soon returned with authority to buy four quarts. I suspect that
she was the means of influencing so large a purchase.

"They are ten cents a quart," said Robert, "but I don't think I ought to
charge your father anything."

"Why not?"

"Because I shall owe him, or rather Will, a good deal of money."

"I know what you mean--it's about the boat."

"Did your father tell you?"

"Yes, but I knew it before. Halbert Davis told me."

"He takes a great interest in my affairs."

"He's a mean boy. You mustn't mind what he says against you."

Robert laughed.

"I don't care what he thinks or says of me, unless he persuades others
to think ill of me."

"I shall never think ill of you, Robert," said Hester, warmly.

"Thank you, Hester," said Robert, looking up into her glowing face with
more gratification than he could express. "I hope I shall deserve your
good opinion."

"I am sure you will, Robert, But won't you come in?"

"No, thank you. I must sell the rest of my berries."

Robert left the house with forty cents in his pocket, the first fruits
of his afternoon's work. Besides, he had four quarts left, for which he
expected to find a ready sale. He had not gone far when he met Halbert.
The latter was dressed with his usual care, with carefully polished
shoes, neatly fitting gloves, and swinging a light cane, the successor
of that which had been broken in his conflict with Robert. Our hero, on
the other hand, I am obliged to confess, was by no means fashionably
attired. His shoes were dusty, and his bare hands were stained with
berry juice. He wore a coarse straw hat with a broad brim to shield him
from the hot sun. Those of my readers who judge by dress alone would
certainly have preferred Halbert Davis, who looked as if he had just
stepped out of a band-box. But those who compared the two faces, the one
bright, frank and resolute, the other supercilious and insincere, could
hardly fail to prefer Robert in spite of his coarse attire and
unfashionable air.

Halbert scanned his rival with scornful eyes. He would have taken no
notice of him, but concluded to speak in the hope of saying something
disagreeable.

"You have found a new business, I see," he said, with a sneer.

"Yes," said Robert, quietly. "When one business gives out, I try
another."

"You've made a good choice," said Halbert. "It's what you are adapted
for."

"Thank you for the compliment, but I don't expect to stick to it all my
life."

"How do you sell your berries?"

"Ten cents a quart."

"You'd better call on your friend, Miss Hester Paine, and see if she
won't buy some."

"Thank you for the advice, but it comes too late. She bought four quarts
of me."

"She did!" returned Halbert, surprised. "I didn't think you'd go there."

"Why not?"

"She won't think much of a boy that has to pick berries for a living."

"I don't think that will change her opinion of me. Why should it?"

"It's a low business."

"I don't see it."

"Excuse my delaying you. I am afraid I may have interfered with your
business. I say," he called out, as Robert was going on, "if you will
call at our house, perhaps my mother may patronize you."

"Very well," said Robert, "if I don't sell elsewhere, I'll call there.
It makes no difference to me who buys my berries,"

"He's the proudest beggar I ever met," thought Halbert, looking after
him. "Hester Paine must be hard up for an escort if she walks with a boy
who peddles berries for a living. If I were her father, I would put a
stop to it."

The same evening there was a concert in the Town Hall. A free ticket was
given to Robert in return for some slight service. Mr. Paine and his
daughter were present, and Halbert Davis also. To the disgust of the
latter, Robert actually had the presumption to walk home with Hester.
Hester laughed and chatted gayly, and appeared to be quite unconscious
that she was lowering herself by accepting the escort of a boy "who
picked berries for a living."

The next day Robert again repaired to Sligo. He had realized eighty
cents from his sales the previous day, and he felt that picking berries
was much better than remaining idle. Halbert's sneers did not for a
moment discompose him. He had pride, but it was an honorable pride, and
not of a kind that would prevent his engaging in any respectable
employment necessary for the support of his mother and himself.

Returning home with well-filled pails, he walked a part of the way on
the railroad, as this shortened the distance. He had not walked far when
he discovered on the track a huge rock, large enough to throw the train
off the track. How it got there was a mystery. Just in front there was a
steep descent on either side, the road crossing a valley, so that an
accident would probably cause the entire train to be thrown down the
embankment. Robert saw the danger at a glance, and it flashed upon him
at the same moment that the train was nearly due. He sprang to the rock,
and exerted his utmost strength to dislodge it. He could move it
slightly, but it was too heavy to remove. He was still exerting his
strength to the utmost when the whistle of the locomotive was heard.
Robert was filled with horror, as he realized the peril of the
approaching train, and his powerlessness to avert it.

CHAPTER XVII.

THE YOUNG CAPITALIST.

The cars swept on at the rate of twenty miles an hour, the engineer
wholly unconscious of the peril in front. Robert saw the fated train
with its freight of human lives, and his heart grew sick within him as
he thought of the terrible tragedy which was about to be enacted. Was
there any possibility of his averting it? He threw himself against the
rock and pushed with all the strength he could command. But, nerved as
he was by desperation, he found the task greater than he could compass.

And still the train came thundering on. He must withdraw to a place of
safety, or he would himself be involved in the destruction which
threatened the train.

There was one thing more he could do, and he did it.

He took his station on the rock which was just in the path of the
advancing train, and waved his handkerchief frantically. It was a
position to test the courage of the bravest.

Robert was fully aware that he was exposing himself to a horrible
death. Should he not be seen by the engineer it would be doubtful
whether he could get out of the way in time to escape death--and that of
the most frightful nature. But unless he did something a hundred lives
perhaps might be lost. So he resolutely took his stand, waving, as we
have said, his handkerchief and shouting, though the last was not likely
to be of any avail.

At first he was not seen. When the engineer at last caught sight of him
it was with a feeling of anger at what he regarded as the foolhardiness
of the boy. He slackened his speed, thinking he would leave his place,
but Robert still maintained his position, his nerves strung to their
highest tension, not alone at his own danger, but at the peril which he
began to fear he could not avert.

Reluctantly the engineer gave the signal to stop the train. He was only
just in time. When it came to a stop there was an interval of only
thirty-five feet between it and Robert Rushton, who, now that he had
accomplished his object, withdrew to one side, a little paler than
usual, but resolute and manly in his bearing.

"What is the meaning of this foolery?" the engineer demanded, angrily.

Robert pointed in silence to the huge rock which lay on the track.

"How came that rock there?" asked the engineer, in a startled tone, as
he took in the extent of the peril from which they had been saved.

"I don't know," said Robert. "I tried to move it, but I couldn't."

"You are a brave boy," said the engineer. "You have in all probability
saved the train from destruction. But you ran a narrow risk yourself."

"I know it," was the reply; "but it was the only thing I could do to
catch your attention."

"I will speak to you about it again. The first to be done is to move the
rock."

He left the engine and advanced toward the rock. By this time many of
the passengers had got out, and were inquiring why the train was stopped
at this point. The sight of the rock made a sensation. Though the peril
was over, the thought that the train might have been precipitated down
the embankment, and the majority of the passengers killed or seriously
injured, impressed them not a little. They pressed forward, and several
lending a hand, the rock was ousted from its its position, and rolled
crashing over the bank.

Among the passengers was a stout, good-looking man, a New York merchant.
He had a large family at home waiting his return from a Western
journey. He shuddered as he thought how near he had been to never
meeting them again on earth.

"It was providential, your seeing the rock," he said to the engineer.
"We owe our lives to you."

"You do me more than justice," replied the engineer. "It was not I who
saved the train, but that boy."

All eyes were turned upon Robert, who, unused to being the center of so
many glances, blushed and seemed disposed to withdraw.

"How is that?" inquired the merchant.

"He saw the obstruction, and tried to remove it, but, not being able to
do so, took his station on the rock, and, at the risk of his own life,
drew my attention, and saved the train."

"It was a noble act, my boy; what is your name?"

"Robert Rushton."

"It is a name that we shall all have cause to remember. Gentlemen,"
continued the merchant, turning to the group around him, "you see before
you the preserver of your lives. Shall his act go unrewarded?"

"No, no!" was the general exclamation.

"I don't want any reward," said Robert, modestly. "Any boy would have
done as much."

"I don't know about that, my young friend. There are not many boys, or
men, I think, that would have had the courage to act as you did. You may
not ask or want any reward, but we should be forever disgraced if we
failed to acknowledge our great indebtedness to you. I contribute one
hundred dollars as my share of the testimonial to our young friend."

"I follow with fifty!" said his next neighbor, "and shall ask for the
privilege of taking him by the hand."

Robert had won honors at school, but he had never before been in a
position so trying to his modesty. The passengers, following the example
of the last speaker, crowded around him, and took him by the hand,
expressing their individual acknowledgments for the service he had
rendered them. Our hero, whom we now designate thus appropriately, bore
the ordeal with a self-possession which won the favor of all.

While this was going on, the collection was rapidly being made by the
merchant who had proposed it. The amounts contributed varied widely, but
no one refused to give. In ten minutes the fund had reached over six
hundred dollars.

"Master Robert Rushton," said the merchant, "I have great pleasure in
handing you this money, freely contributed by the passengers on this
train, as a slight acknowledgment of the great service which you have
rendered them at the risk of your own life. It does not often fall to
the lot of a boy to perform a deed so heroic. We are all your debtors,
and if the time ever conies that you need a friend, I for one shall be
glad to show my sense of indebtedness."

"All aboard!" shouted the conductor.

The passengers hurried into the cars, leaving our hero standing by the
track, with one hand full of bank notes and in the other the card of the
New York merchant. It was only about fifteen minutes since Robert had
first signaled the train, yet how in this brief time had his fortunes
changed! From the cars now rapidly receding he looked to the roll of
bills, and he could hardly realize that all this money was his own. He
sat down and counted it over.

"Six hundred and thirty-five dollars!" he exclaimed. "I must have made a
mistake."

But a second count turned out precisely the same.

"How happy mother will be!" he thought, joyfully. "I must go and tell
her the good news."

He was so occupied with the thoughts of his wonderful good fortune that
he nearly forgot to take the berries which he had picked.

"I shan't need to sell them now," he said. "We'll use a part of them
ourselves, and what we can't use I will give away."

He carefully stored away the money in his coat pocket, and for the sake
of security buttoned it tight. It was a new thing for him to be the
custodian of so much treasure. As Halbert Davis usually spent the latter
part of the afternoon in promenading the streets, sporting his kids and
swinging his jaunty cane, it was not surprising that Robert encountered
him again.

"So, you've been berrying again?" he said, stopping short.

"Yes," said Robert, briefly.

"You haven't got the boat repaired, I suppose."

"Not yet."

"It's lucky for you this is berrying season."

"Why?"

"Because you'd probably have to go to the poorhouse," said Halbert,
insolently.

"I don't know about that," said Robert, coolly. "I rather think I could
buy you out, Halbert Davis, watch, gloves, cane and all."

"What do you mean?" demanded Halbert, haughtily. "You seem to forget
that you are a beggar, or next to it."

Robert set down his pails, and, opening his coat, drew out a handful of
bills.

"Does that look like going to the almshouse?" he said.

"They're not yours," returned Halbert, considerably astonished, for,
though he did not know the denomination of the bills, it was evident
that there was a considerable amount of money.

"It belongs to me, every dollar of it," returned Robert.

"I don't believe it. Where did you get it? Picking berries, I suppose,"
he added, with a sneer.

"It makes no difference to you where I got it," said our hero, returning
the money to his pocket. "I shan't go to the almshouse till this I is
all gone."

"He must have stolen it," muttered Halbert, looking after Robert with
disappointment and chagrin. It was certainly very vexatious that, in
spite of all his attempts to humble and ruin our hero, he seemed more
prosperous than ever.

CHAPTER XVIII.

A VISIT TO THE LAWYER.

Mrs. Rushton was braiding straw when Robert entered with his berries.

"Couldn't you sell your berries, Robert?" she asked.

"I haven't tried yet, mother."

"The berrying season won't last much longer," said his mother,
despondently.

"Don't borrow trouble, mother. I am sure we shall get along well."

"You feel more confidence than I do."

"I just met Halbert Davis in the street."

"Have you made up with him?"

"It is for him to make up with me."

"I am afraid you are too high-spirited, Robert. Did Halbert speak to
you?"

"Oh, yes," said Robert, laughing. "He takes a great interest in my
affairs. He predicts that we shall come to the poorhouse yet."

"He may be right."

"Now, mother, don't be so desponding. We've got enough money to pay our
expenses for more than a year, even if we both stop work."

"What can you mean, Robert?" said his mother, looking up in surprise.
"You must be crazy."

"Does that look like going to the poorhouse?" asked Robert, drawing out
his money.

Mrs. Rushton uttered an exclamation of surprise.

"Whose money is that, Robert?"

"Mine!"

"You haven't done anything wrong?"

"No, mother; I thought you knew me too well for that. I see you are
anxious to hear how I obtained it, so I'll tell you all about it."

He sat down, and in brief words told his mother the story of the train
and its peril, how he had rescued it, and, lastly, of the generous gift
which he had so unexpectedly received. The mother's heart was touched,
and she forgot all her forebodings.

"My son, I am proud of you," she said, her eyes moist. "You have done a
noble deed, and you deserve the reward. But what a risk you ran!"

"I know it, mother, but we won't think of that, now that it is over. How
much, money do you think I have here?"

"Two or three hundred dollars."

"Six hundred and thirty-five! So you see, mother, we needn't go to the
poorhouse just yet. Now, how much better off should I have been if I had
kept my place in the factory? It would have taken me more than two years
to earn as much money as this. But that isn't all. I have been the means
of saving a great many lives, for the train was sure to be thrown down
the embankment. I shall remember that all my life."

"We have reason to be grateful to Heaven that you have been the means of
doing so much good, Robert, while, at the same time, you have benefited
yourself."

"That is true, mother."

"I shall be afraid to have so much money in the house. If it were known,
we might be robbed."

"I will leave it with Mr. Paine until I get a chance to put it in a
savings bank. He has a safe in his office. At the same time I will carry
him some berries as a present. It won't be much, but I should like to do
it on account of his kindness about the boat. I will offer now to bear
the expense of its repair."

After washing his hands and adjusting his clothes a little, for Robert,
though no fop like Halbert, was not regardless of appearances,
especially as he thought Hester might see him, he set out for the
lawyer's office.

"Excuse my bringing in my berries," said Robert, as he entered the
office, "but I want to ask your acceptance of them."

Many persons, under the supposition that Robert was too poor to afford a
gift, would have declined it, or offered to pay for it, thinking they
were acting kindly and considerately. But Mr. Paine knew that Robert
would be mortified by such an offer, and he answered:

"Thank you, Robert; I will accept your gift with thanks on one
condition."

"What is it, Mr. Paine?" inquired our hero, a little puzzled.

"That you will take tea with us to-morrow evening, and help us do
justice to them."

"Thank you," said Robert, not a little pleased at the invitation, "but I
shouldn't like to leave my mother at home alone."

"Oh, we must have your mother, too. Hester will call this evening, and
invite her."

"Then," said Robert, "I can answer for myself, and I think for her, that
we should both be very happy to come."

The lawyer's social position made such an invitation particularly
gratifying to Robert. Besides, he was led to value it more on account of
the persistent efforts of Halbert to injure him in the general
estimation. Then, too, it was pleasant to think that he was to sit down
to the same table with Hester, as her father's guest, and to receive a
call from her at his own house. Nothing that Mr. Paine could have done
would have afforded him an equal amount of gratification,

"There is one other matter I wanted to speak to you about, Mr. Paine,"
he said. "Will you take care of some money for me until I get a chance
to deposit it in the savings bank?"

"Certainly, Robert," was the reply, but the lawyer's manner showed some
surprise. He knew the circumstances of the Rushtons, and he had not
supposed they had any money on hand. "How much is it?"

"Six hundred and thirty-five dollars," answered Robert, producing it.
"Will you count it, and see if it is all right?"

"Is this your money?" asked the lawyer, laying down his pen and gazing
at Robert in astonishment.

"Yes, sir," said Robert, enjoying his surprise. "I will tell you how I
got it"

So the story was told, with a modest reserve as to his own courage, but
still showing, without his intending it, how nobly he had behaved.

"Give me your hand, Robert," said Mr. Paine, cordially. "You have shown
yourself a hero. We shall be proud of your company to tea to-morrow
evening."

Robert flushed with gratification at the high compliment conveyed in
these words.

What did he care then for Halbert Davis and his petty malice! He had the
approval of his own conscience, the good opinion of those whom he most
respected and a provision against want sufficient to avert all present
anxiety.

"There is one thing more, Mr. Paine," he added. "It's about the boat
Will was kind enough to lend me."

"Have you seen the carpenter about repairing it?"

"Yes, sir, and he will attend to it as soon as he can spare the time.
But that was not what I wanted to say. I think I ought to bear the
expense of repairing it. I would have spoken about it at first, but then
I had no money, and didn't know when I should have any. Will you be kind
enough to take as much of my money as will be needed to pay Mr. Plane's
bill when it comes in?"

"Certainly not, Robert. It was not your fault that the boat was
injured."

"It wouldn't have happened if I had not borrowed it. It isn't right that
the expense should fall on you."

"Don't trouble yourself about that, Robert. I am able and willing to pay
it. It is very honorable in you to make the offer, and I like you the
better for having made it. Won't you need any of this money for present
expenses?"

"Perhaps I had better take the thirty-five dollars. Mother may be in
want of something."

Robert received back the sum named, and returned home, much pleased with
his interview.

About seven o'clock, sitting at the window of the little cottage, he saw
Hester Paine opening the front gate. He sprang to his feet and opened
the door.

"Good-evening, Robert," she said. "Is your mother at home?"

"Yes, Hester. Won't you come in?"

"Thank you, Robert. Father has been telling me what a hero you were, and
it made me feel proud that you were a friend of mine."

Robert's face lighted with pleasure.

"You compliment me more than I deserve," he answered, modestly; "but it
gives me great pleasure to know that you think well of me."

"I am sure that there is no boy in Millville that would have dared to do
such a thing. Good-evening, Mrs. Rushton. Are you not proud of your
son?"

"He is a good son to me," said Mrs. Rushton, with a glance of affection.

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