The Hero of Hill House Part 4

As he approached the river he found the lowlands much more wet and marshy than it had been in the hills, and he had to wade above his shoes a good deal of the time, and still the heavy drizzle kept up. He made for a farmhouse where he hoped to get work. As he came up he wished in his heart that the man would ask him no questions about his condition; for he saw that besides the wet and mud, he had torn his clothes in several places.

But he was determined that if any questions were asked he would tell the truth, just as it was. He would not s.h.i.+eld either his father or himself.

His cause should stand upon its own foundation. He believed that almost any one would approve of his leaving home under the circ.u.mstances.

He knocked at the farmhouse door, and the man of the house answered his rap and hospitably invited the boy in. It was a temptation; but Austin remembered his soppy condition and did not like to soil the housewife's floors, so refused to enter.

"I am looking for work. Have you anything I can do?" he said.

"Are you not that Hill boy who wanted work a few weeks back?" asked the man kindly.

"Yes, and you thought you might have something for me later," replied Austin hopefully.

"If you had come yesterday I should have hired you; I found a man over at town last night, and he will be here today to begin. I am sorry I did not know you were still wanting the place."

With a heavy heart Austin turned from the door and journeyed on in the rain and mud. He had little hope of getting work at any of the other farms, and he did not know where to go. But he determined to do his best in seeking employment, and so stopped at every house he pa.s.sed, asking the same question.

At last he reached the river at a place where a foot-bridge crossed it. To cross this bridge seemed to him to be cutting off the last retreat home.

Here he must make his final decision. He stood with one foot on the bridge and one hand on the railing and pondered. Should he go on, or should he go back and face his father? He knew the taunts he would receive even if he were not beaten; but he would bear all that if it was his duty. Then there came to his mind the picture of his father that day he had come home after his drunken spree and found the boys trying to start the engine. At the thought his loathing of his father overcame him, and he turned and walked across the bridge. Never would he go back to live in the same house with that drunken fellow. If Henry Hill had realized the effect his life was having on his children even he would have considered.

CHAPTER 8

WAYSIDE FRIENDS

Now that Austin had cut his last sh.o.r.e-line, had crossed the bridge away from home, he began to plan for himself. It was now past noon, and he was both hungry and cold. When he thought of his penniless condition a chill of apprehension came over him, for he had no mind to beg. He continued his search for work on this side the river, but with as little success. Though he could hardly have told why, he had kept on toward the railroad, and was approaching it where a small station stood. He had no money with which to buy a ticket, yet he hoped that in some way he might be able to follow the road to where he could find work.

When he reached the station he found no depot and only a few houses; a box car had been set beside the track and in it was a tiny waiting-room with a fire burning. A couple of men sat idly by smoking and talking, scarcely noticing when the boy came in. Austin was thoroughly tired out, more hungry than he had ever been in his life, and chilled to the bone. His feet had been wet all day, and he had not a dry st.i.tch of clothing on him. Setting the suitcase down, he sank upon the rude bench at the side of the room and hardly moved for a long time. The early twilight of the gloomy evening came on, and still he sat, with a thoughtful, far-away look in his eyes. He did not know what to do next.

After a while the ticket agent came in. Seeing the boy sit in such a dejected position and without moving for a long time, he guessed that he was in trouble and in need of help.

"Where are you going, sir?" he asked Austin kindly.

"I hardly know. I have been looking for work among the farmers all day and none of them want to hire me, and I hardly know what to do next," said Austin.

"Do you live near here?"

"Yes, I have walked from home today; but I do not want to go back if I can avoid it. I want to find work."

"Had some trouble?"

At this question Austin looked around, and seeing that they were now alone and feeling certain that the man was kindly disposed toward him he told him all, s.h.i.+elding neither his father nor himself. It was so evident that he told the truth that the man believed him.

"Have you any means, or any way of making your expenses while you are looking for work?" was the next question.

"No sir, I have no money, and only want to get work. I have a friend at the next town whom I am quite certain would help me if I could only find him."

"Have you anything about you that you could sell if you got into a pinch?"

again asked the man.

"Not a thing unless it would be this," and he held up a pocket-knife, which had been a gift of his mother's.

"If you will give me the knife I will give you your supper and a ticket to the next station," tactfully proposed the man, not wis.h.i.+ng to make Austin feel like a beggar.

Accepting the offer he was taken to a little restaurant and given a good supper, and before it had grown much later he had a ticket and was aboard the train bound for the town where his friend was at work. Austin had taken opportunity while waiting for the train to change his clothes, and he now presented a much better appearance than when he was sitting by the little box-car fire.

When Austin left the train it was dark, and had been for some time. He had been so tired as the train bounded along that he hardly sensed his position. Dimly he had wondered where he would sleep that night. Now he stood for a moment on the little station platform wondering what he should do next. He did not know where to find his friend and was not certain he was here at all. This had been his only hope of finding work, and now he realized it had been a very forlorn one. Since he was here he must find the man or stay out in the cold all night. He saw the light of a hotel across the street. Going there, he asked if they knew his friend; but his friend was a stranger to them. He inquired about other hotels and rooming-houses, and was directed to two or three, which he visited with as little success.

Standing again in the outside darkness he pondered what to do. He thought perhaps his friend might be known at the livery stable, and going there he asked again. The stableman knew no such a fellow, and by the flickering lantern-light he saw the look of disappointment and concern that crossed Austin's face.

"Where are you going to stay tonight?" he asked.

"I do not know. I have made no inquiry about it, hoping to find my friend,"

the boy replied.

"Every house in town is full; some folks will have to sit up at the hotel for lack of a bed. I have no idea where to tell you to go." Then after a moment's thought he added, "I could fix you a place here in the barn where you would be comfortable, and welcome."

"Thank you, sir; but, to be honest, I have no money to pay for even that bed," truthfully replied Austin.

"Well, a fellow can't stay out in the cold a night like this. Prepare to roll in and maybe you will have better luck tomorrow," good-naturedly replied the man, and taking an armful of rugs he went to an oat-bin and spread them out and left Austin to get to rest as soon as possible.

Though this was a novel bed to the boy, and the surroundings new and strange, so weary was he that he was soon fast asleep. It was morning when he wakened, but not yet light. He heard the man in the barn with the horses, so jumping up hastily he dressed and went out to help him, with the hope that he could remain and work about the barn, though this was not the kind of work he had wished for.

"Have you need of a hand around the barn?" he asked the man after a while.

"If you have I should like a job."

"No, I can manage all there is to do very well," was the discouraging reply.

"Do you know of any work around here I could get?"

"Not a thing. You are most too young to stand the work in the oil-fields, and that is about all there is to do this time of year. I shall go over to the house now for my breakfast, and you look after things while I am gone and then you may go get yours," said the man, who felt genuine pity for the boy.

Austin enjoyed the warm breakfast and the kindness of the housewife who gave it to him. Before he left, the man handed him almost a dollar in change, another act of kindness.

Taking his suitcase again in his hand Austin proceeded on his uncertain journey. The money the stableman had given him would be sufficient to carry him to the village where his grandparents lived, and as he had heard that Wilbur was there, he decided to cease looking for his friend and go on to his grandparents' home and get a.s.sistance from his brother. He thought this would be only fair, for Wilbur had borne no responsibility, while he himself had given all his wages for the support of the family.

"Why, Austin!" exclaimed his grandmother when he came to her door. "Can this be you! I did not know you intended coming. How did you leave the children!"

"Everybody is well, thank you," primly replied Austin; for he was always a little afraid of his sharp-spoken grandmother. "Papa thought he could get along without me for a while, so I am looking for work. Do you know where I could find Wilbur? Perhaps he could help me get something right away."

"Will is in town somewhere; I see little of him. You come in and spend the night with us, and hunt him in the morning."

Austin spent a pleasant evening with the old folks; but he told them nothing of the trouble between him and his father, lest they might detain him and send word to his father where to find him. The next morning he found his brother, who was as surprized to see him as the grandparents had been.

"h.e.l.lo, kid, how are the folks?" he had greeted him in a jolly tone.

"All right. Papa thought he could get on without me for a while, so I am looking for work. Do you know where I can get any?"

"No, I do not know of a thing. There is not much around here that is light enough for a kid," replied Wilbur, who felt his two years' superiority very much.

"Well, then, could you let me have some money to keep me till I do find work? I am completely broke and have not been able to get a thing to do."