Ahead of the Show Part 19

"You are wrong; the man in that carriage was not this gentleman. Remember, it turned the corner before we left the depot, so you lost sight of it for half a minute or so."

"That's so," admitted cabby.

"It had probably turned out of the street before we turned into it, and you, seeing this gentleman's carriage, supposed it to be the same, and followed it."

"I guess that explains it."

"Well, it doesn't explain it to me," said the aggrieved stranger. "I consider this affair an outrage, and I am going to have it investigated."

"Go ahead and investigate, then," said Al, losing his patience. "You are making a mountain of a mole hill."

"I am, eh? Well, you'll see whether I am or not. Cabman, I have your number."

"That's all right; keep it," growled the jehu.

"I shall keep it, and make good use of it, too. You will hear from me again."

And the man climbed back into his carriage, flushed almost as much with anger as with wine.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

AN EXCITING INTERVIEW.

As the carriage rolled away Al and the cabman stood and stared at each other. Then the latter burst into a loud laugh.

"Well, sir," he said, "this is the funniest job I have had for many a long day."

Al failed to appreciate the humor of the situation.

"It does not strike me as being particularly funny," he said.

"It doesn't?"

"Decidedly not. Why did you lose sight of the other cab?"

"Why, you explained that yourself just now. The two carriages looked just alike; I believe they were the same."

"No, they were not. The man I saw looking from the window of the carriage that pa.s.sed the Grand Central Depot was not the man we have just been talking to."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You followed the wrong carriage; that is all there is to it."

"Well," admitted the cabby, "I think you are right. Where shall I take you now?"

"Nowhere; I'll walk. How much do I owe you?"

"Ten dollars," was the calm reply.

"Ten what?" demanded Al.

"Dollars."

"Ten dollars for driving me that short distance?"

"Do you call that a short distance?"

"Yes; I could have walked it in a good deal less than half an hour."

"Why didn't you, then?"

"I----"

"Now, see here," interrupted the cabman, with a threatening air, as he put his face in very close proximity to Al's, "I don't want no muss with you. See? But I get that ten dollars. Do you think I'm driving this here thing for fun? Not on your life!"

This was Al's first experience with one of the cla.s.s known in New York as "night-hawks," and for a moment he hesitated. Imagining that he had gained an advantage, the man added: "Now, look lively! I've got something else to do besides standing here chinning with you."

"Yes," said the boy, quietly, "you have. On second thoughts, I'll keep your cab a little longer. Drive me to the nearest police station."

The man stared at him, then asked, rather uneasily: "What for?"

"So that I can find out just what I ought to pay you. It won't take either of us long to get the information."

The night-hawk saw that he had, for once, met his match.

"See here, young gent," he said, "I don't want no trouble with you."

"If there is any trouble, you will bring it on yourself," responded the boy.

"I've got no time to waste. Give me a V and I'll call it square."

"I'll give you nothing of the sort."

"What will you pay, then?"

"Two dollars is quite enough."

"Make it three, boss."

"I can't do it," said Al, who saw that he had by luck hit upon about the right price. "Will you take two, or will you go with me to the nearest police station and let them settle the matter there?"

"Give me the two," said the man, sullenly. "I'll take it, but I'm losing money on the job. If I'd stayed up at the station I might have picked up----"

"You might have picked up a bigger greenhorn than you did," added Al. "Well, I'll wish you good-morning."

He was about to turn away when a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder, and a familiar voice exclaimed: "Well, this is luck. I didn't expect to find you as easy as all this."

"Oh, it's you, is it?" cried Al, recognizing the friendly brakeman who had loaned him the money. "I'm mighty glad I ran across you."

"You are, eh?" sneered the man.

Al looked at him in surprise.

"Yes, I was going to hunt you up."

"Oh, you were?"

"Of course I was. I wanted to explain to you why I left you so suddenly. You must have thought----"

"I thought the truth--that I had been made the victim of a swindler. I made up my mind that I would hunt you up, but I didn't expect to find you quite so soon; that was blind luck."

"See here," said Al, his anger rising, "you are going a little too far. I was, and am, much obliged to you for lending me that money, but I----"

"Lending nothing," interrupted the cabman, who had been a silent listener to the conversation. "Why, the young villain has just been telling me how he euchered a brakeman up at the Grand Central out of a wad."

"It is a lie!" burst from the lips of the indignant boy, and he advanced toward the treacherous fellow with clinched fists.

But the cabman retreated and leaped upon his box.

"If I didn't have my cab here," he said, as he gathered up the reins, "I'd teach you to call me a liar. Boss"--to the brakeman--"you're in luck to find the young rascal so easy. Don't let him off; I know him well, and, in spite of his innocent looks, he is one of the toughest youngsters in the city."

With these words the rascal whipped up his horses and started up the avenue at as rapid a pace as his steeds were capable of.

"Do you believe that fellow's story?" demanded Al, looking his companion squarely in the eyes.

"You can bet I do," was the prompt reply.

"You think I am a thief?"

"Haven't I pretty good proof of it?"

"I----"

"Now, see here, young fellow," interrupted the indignant brakeman, "I am not going to sit up till daylight to discuss this matter with you. You can talk it over with the judge later. You buncoed me in a very neat manner; I admit you did the job well, but luck happened to be on my side, and the game is lost for you. But see here; just to avoid trouble, if you hand me back my ten dollars, I'll let you off."

"I'll give you all I have left of it," said Al; "and some day I'll prove to you that I am not----"

"That's all right," interrupted the uncompromising brakeman. "I don't care what you are; all I want is my ten dollars, not what you have left, but just what I gave you."

"I have just paid that cabman two dollars," said Al, "and all I can give you is eight. I am very sorry I accepted the loan at all."

"You ain't as sorry as I am," sneered the brakeman. "But, see here, I'm not going to fool any more time away with you. I've had a hard day, and I've got to start in again at eleven o'clock. To save myself trouble, I have offered to let you off if you would give me my money back. If you won't, you will go with me to the station house, where I shall make a formal complaint against you. Now, what do you say?"

Before Al could reply a man suddenly turned the corner of Eleventh Street.

As he approached, the boy grasped his companion's arm.

"Now," he said, "I'll prove to you that you have made a mistake."

"How?"

"Do you see this man coming?"

The brakeman looked, then started.

"It's your pal!" he exclaimed, recognizing the individual who had been introduced to the reader as the "Rev. David Ferguson."

"He's no more my pal than you are," said Al. "Just keep your eyes and ears open, and I'll convince you on that point, at any rate."

The alleged reverend gentleman was approaching rather slowly. His eyes were on the pavement. He was smiling; evidently his thoughts were of an agreeable nature.

He did not observe Al and his companion until he was within a few feet of them; then the boy suddenly stepped forward, saying: "Good-morning, Mr. Ferguson."

CHAPTER XXIX.

A DANGEROUS JOB AHEAD.

The reverend gentleman started; a decidedly uneasy expression appeared upon his face.

"I don't know you, young gentleman," he said.

"Oh, you can't have forgotten me, Mr. Ferguson," said Al. "My name is Allston; don't you remember the interesting conversation we had on the train this morning?"

"Ahem! I think I do recognize you now."

"I thought you would. Isn't this rather early for you to be out, Mr. Ferguson?"

"I have not yet returned to my home; I have been on an errand of mercy. And now I must ask you to excuse me, for I am greatly fatigued."

"Wait a minute."

"Well, what is it?"