Frank V. Webster - Bob Chester\'s Grit
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Frank V. Webster >> Bob Chester\'s Grit
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BOB CHESTER'S GRIT
Or
From Ranch to Riches
by
FRANK V. WEBSTER
Author of "The Newsboy Partners," "Only a Farm Boy," "Bob the Castaway,"
Etc.
Illustrated
[Illustration: HE URGED FIREFLY TO GREATER SPEED
_Bob Chester's Grit_ Page 190]
New York
Cupples & Leon Company
Publishers
* * * * *
BOOKS FOR BOYS
By FRANK V. WEBSTER
12mo. Cloth. Illustrated. Price per volume,
40 cents, postpaid
ONLY A FARM BOY
TOM, THE TELEPHONE BOY
THE BOY FROM THE RANCH
THE YOUNG TREASURE HUNTER
BOB, THE CASTAWAY
THE YOUNG FIREMEN OF LAKEVILLE
THE NEWSBOY PARTNERS
THE BOY PILOT OF THE LAKES
TWO BOY GOLD MINERS
JACK, THE RUNAWAY
COMRADES OF THE SADDLE
THE BOYS OF BELLWOOD SCHOOL
THE HIGH SCHOOL RIVALS
AIRSHIP ANDY
BOB CHESTER'S GRIT
BEN HARDY'S FLYING MACHINE
DICK, THE BANK BOY
DARRY, THE LIFE SAVER
* * * * *
Cupples & Leon Co., Publishers, New York
Copyright, 1911, by
Cupples & Leon Company
* * * * *
BOB CHESTER'S GRIT
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I UNDER A CLOUD 1
II BOB FINDS AN UNEXPECTED CHAMPION 11
III FREE AGAIN 19
IV BOB DETERMINES TO BE HIS OWN MASTER 31
V BOB MISSES A FRIEND 40
VI A KIND-HEARTED WAITRESS 46
VII GOOD LUCK FROM BAD 57
VIII BOB'S LUCK CONTINUES 65
IX A TALE OF THE PLAINS 74
X BOB DOES A KIND ACT 83
XI BOB FAILS TO FIND MRS. CAMERON 93
XII ALONE IN A STRANGE CITY 100
XIII BOB STARTS AGAIN 108
XIV AT THE THROTTLE OF A FREIGHT ENGINE 116
XV BOB EARNS HIS PASSAGE 124
XVI FAIRFAX AT LAST 133
XVII SEEKING A JOB 143
XVIII ON THE TRACK 149
XIX AN AMAZING RECEPTION 155
XX BOB BECOMES OWNER OF A DOG 160
XXI AT THE RANCH 167
XXII ON THE RANGE STATION 173
XXIII BOB OVERHEARS A SECOND PLOT 179
XXIV A RACE FOR LIFE 189
XXV FROM RANCH TO RICHES 197
Bob Chester's Grit
CHAPTER I
UNDER A CLOUD
"Hey, boy! What's your name?"
"Bob Chester."
"Where are you going with that basket of groceries?"
"To deliver an order to one of my guardian's customers."
"Are you honest?"
"I hope so, sir," replied Bob, his face expressing surprise that his
probity should be questioned.
The man who had hailed Bob Chester appeared to be about twenty-five
years old, and his clothes were well-fitting, giving him the air of a
man of means. With him were two other men; one of whom, several years
older, was also well dressed. The third member of the group was entirely
different from the others. His clothes were grotesque, and bore every
trace of having been purchased in some country store. His derby hat was
green-black, and apparently a size too small, judging from the manner in
which it rested on his head. Had not his appearance bespoken that he was
a stranger come from the country to see the sights of New York, his
face, sunburned and honest, would have proclaimed him as one
unaccustomed and unfamiliar with the wiles of a great city.
Prior to his having been addressed, the boy who had given his name as
Bob Chester had noticed the difference between the three men as they
stood in earnest conversation on the sidewalk, and instinctively he had
been attracted by the frankness of the countryman's face. He had been
wondering why the two New Yorkers were so interested in the other man,
but the unexpectedness of his being accosted had driven all thought from
his mind, and he had given his answers as though compelled by the
searching glance the younger of the two men had directed at him.
All three watched him intently, and as he made his answer that he hoped
he was honest, the elder of the New Yorkers exclaimed:
"I think he will do, Harry."
"Well, if you say so, all right," returned the other, and then turning
to Bob, he asked:
"Would your guardian object seriously if you did not deliver your order
for about half an hour?"
"I don't know. Saturday is always a busy day at the store, and Mr.
Dardus always scolds me if I don't get right back. It doesn't make any
difference to him how far I have to go, he always thinks I should be
back within fifteen minutes after I have started. So I'd rather not
delay--because I don't like to be scolded," added the boy, as though by
way of apologizing for his refusal.
"Well, if we gave you a dollar, don't you think you could stand the old
man's scolding, if you were half an hour late?" asked the elder of the
New Yorkers, at the same time putting his hand in his pocket and drawing
forth a large roll of bills, which he opened ostentatiously. The figures
were so large that Bob's eyes seemed as though they would pop out of his
head, so eagerly did they scan them. The man extracted a dollar bill.
The sight of so much money in the possession of one man fairly
hypnotized the boy, and he replied:
"Do you mean you will give me a whole dollar if I will wait here half an
hour?"
"That's what!" exclaimed the man with the roll of bills. "But there is a
little more to it. Our friend, Mr. Anthony Simpkins, and we, have an
important business transaction in hand, involving fifteen hundred
dollars. My friend and I don't happen to have more than five hundred
dollars with us, while Mr. Simpkins has seven hundred and fifty, and so
we want you to hold this money while my friend and I go to our bank and
get the two hundred and fifty dollars more, which is our share in the
deal."
"What, me hold twelve hundred and fifty dollars!" exclaimed Bob, as
though unable to believe his ears. "Why, you don't know anything about
me. I might run off with it."
"You look honest," replied the man who had hailed him, "and that's why
we stopped you. Besides, you wouldn't be able to run away if you wanted
to, because Mr. Simpkins is going to wait here with you until we
return."
"And you will give me a dollar just for keeping the money until you come
back?" demanded Bob.
"Exactly."
"All right. That's half as much as I get for working a week."
"That's the boy. I am glad to see that you have the sense of thrift so
strongly developed. Now we will just put Mr. Simpkins' seven hundred and
fifty dollars and our five hundred dollars in this envelope, which you
will keep until we return."
As he spoke, the elder of the New Yorkers counted out five hundred
dollars, put it in the envelope, and then asked the countryman for his
share. After verifying the amount, he placed it with the other money,
then handed an envelope to Bob, exclaiming:
"Now you two stay right here, and we will be back within fifteen
minutes."
"All right, sir," said Bob, as he grasped the envelope. And as his
fingers closed about it, he unconsciously threw back his head, and
squared his shoulders, proud of the thought that he had been selected as
the custodian of such a large sum of money.
Again repeating their promise to return within a quarter of an hour, the
two New Yorkers hastened away, and were soon lost among the people who
thronged the thoroughfare.
Oblivious as the people who live in New York are to the presence of
their fellowmen, the sight of the man so obviously from the country and
the bright-eyed, alert boy, closely clasping the envelope in one hand,
while at his feet rested the basket packed with groceries, attracted
many a passing glance.
Between Simpkins and Bob, however, no words were exchanged; though each,
while apparently gazing at the passersby, kept a sharp lookout upon the
other.
Minute after minute went by, without the return of the two men, who had
said they were going to the bank for money, and as the time wore on
without their re-appearance, Simpkins exclaimed:
"I wonder what's keeping them? I don't want to stand here all day."
"And I can't," said Bob. "I will be more than half an hour late in
getting back to the store, and I know Mr. Dardus will be very angry. I
most wish I hadn't said I'd wait. It just shows that Mr. Dardus is right
when he says there is no pleasure in having money that isn't earned
honestly, and getting a dollar for just holding this money isn't really
honest work."
"Well, if you think you ought to be delivering your groceries, why not
give the envelope to me? I'll stay here and wait, though I must say I am
getting tired."
"Oh, no," said Bob. "I gave my word that I would stay, and I will."
The countryman's suggestion that he be intrusted with the money aroused
Bob's suspicion, for he remembered that the others had placed five
hundred dollars in the envelope, and he thought it was a scheme on the
part of Simpkins to get possession of this money. So that after this
interchange of words, both lapsed into silence.
As the quarter hour lengthened into a half, then to three-quarters, and
finally to an hour, without the re-appearance of the two well-dressed
New Yorkers, Bob's dread of his guardian's anger outweighed his desire
to earn the dollar, and he finally exclaimed:
"I can't wait any longer; honest I can't." And then, chancing to catch
sight of a policeman standing on the corner about a hundred feet away, a
way out of the difficulty suggested itself, and he said to the
countryman:
"I tell you how we can fix it. We will go over to that policeman and
explain the matter to him, and I'll ask him to hold the envelope until
those men come back."
And without giving Simpkins time to protest, Bob picked up his basket,
and led the way to where the guardian of the law was standing,
indolently surveying the crowd.
Casting a contemptuous glance at the two ludicrous figures that
approached him, the policeman first listened to the excited explanation
of the boy indifferently, then with incredulity, and finally with
amusement.
"I have heard of such easy marks, but I never expected to see them in
flesh and blood," exclaimed the officer, when Bob stopped speaking. "So
you think you are holding some money in that envelope, do you, kid?
Well, I'll bet a year's pay that there is nothing in it but old paper."
And while the countryman and the boy gazed at him in speechless dismay,
the policeman took the envelope from Bob's hand, opened it, and drew
forth to their startled gaze a roll of tissue-paper.
"I told you so," grunted the policeman, but further comment was
interrupted by the actions of Simpkins.
No sooner had he discovered that he had been swindled than he shouted at
the top of his lungs:
"I've been robbed! I've been robbed! They've stolen seven hundred and
fifty dollars from me!"
The loud, excited words and the gesticulations of the grotesquely-garbed
man quickly drew the attention of the passersby, and in a trice the
victims of the swindlers and the policeman were the center of a curious
throng of people.
"I want my money! I want my money!" bellowed Simpkins.
"You stand a fine chance of getting it," returned the policeman, "but I
will do what I can for you. I'll take you around to the police station,
and you can make a complaint to the sergeant and give him a description
of the 'con' men."
As word of the swindle was passed among the crowd, various were the
comments and bits of advice offered.
At first Bob had been too stunned by the discovery that he had been made
an innocent party to the swindle even to think, but as he gradually
recovered from the unpleasant surprise, his one thought was to get away
from Simpkins, to deliver his groceries and get back to the store as
quickly as possible. In order to carry out this plan, he began to worm
his way through the constantly increasing crowd.
One of the men who were offering advice chanced to see him, and cried:
"There goes the boy! He was probably standing in with the swindlers. Why
don't you arrest him, Mr. Officer?"
"That's the thing to do," agreed several others, and the policeman,
evidently thinking that it would be a wise procedure for him to seize
some one in connection with the swindle, leaped after Bob, grasped him
roughly by the shoulder, and started for the station-house, followed by
Simpkins and those of the crowd who had nothing better to do.
Arrived at the police station, the countryman and the patrolman both
talked at once, while Bob stood in silence, overcome by the disgrace of
his arrest.
Taking his pencil, the sergeant stopped the countryman's torrent of
words, and began to ask him questions as to his meeting with the
strangers, eliciting the information that he had met them coming over on
the ferry-boat from Jersey City, and that the business deal they had
proposed was the betting of fifteen hundred dollars on a race horse that
was sure to win.
"It's a pity there isn't a law to keep you country people out of the
cities," grunted the sergeant, when the details of the story had been
told him, and then, turning to the policeman, he said:
"You did right in bringing along the boy, McCarty. He is evidently one
of the gang, or he wouldn't have been passing along the street just as
he was. We may be able to learn from him who the 'con' men are, and
where they hang out. Search him, and then take him back to a cell. I'll
send a couple of plain-clothes men in to talk with him."
And grabbing Bob by the arm, the policeman dragged him toward the door
which led to a cell.
CHAPTER II
BOB FINDS AN UNEXPECTED CHAMPION
Among those who had heard the story of the swindling of the countryman
were several reporters for the great metropolitan afternoon papers, and
as the burly policeman dragged the pathetic figure of the grocer's boy
to the cell, one of these, a particularly clean-cut, wide-awake young
fellow, exclaimed:
"Sergeant, that's the rawest thing I ever saw you do. I don't believe
that boy knows anything more about those 'con' men, and probably not as
much, as you do. It's a shame to lock him up, and I am going to give you
the hottest roast for doing so that the paper will stand for."
"You do, and you'll never set foot inside this station while I'm in
charge," retorted the officer. "If you knew as much about old Dardus as
I do, you wouldn't be so keen to champion this boy. The old man has been
mixed up in many a questionable transaction, and I shouldn't be
surprised if it turned out that he was in league with these fellows who
got that country bumpkin's seven hundred and fifty dollars, and that he
put the boy up to playing the part he did."
"I don't know anything about Dardus," announced the reporter who had
taken up the cudgel in Bob's behalf, "and I don't care. If he is mixed
up in questionable dealings, that doesn't mean that the boy is
necessarily a party to them. You can't tell me that a chap, with a face
as honest as that boy has, is a criminal."
"When you've been doing police stations longer, Foster, you will learn
that you can't judge criminals by their faces," snarled the sergeant,
and as the other reporters heard this caustic comment, they laughed
uproariously.
"Laugh if you want to," returned Bob's champion, "but I am going to
prove the boy's innocence of any complicity in the swindle."
And without more ado, the reporter left the police station.
Although the representatives of the other papers had sided in with the
police official who announced his belief in Bob's guilt, they
nevertheless experienced a feeling of uneasiness, lest Foster might
after all be right, and they were holding consultation as to the
advisability of investigating the story more thoroughly, when the
sergeant exclaimed:
"Don't let that fellow worry you. I've known Len Dardus for years. He's
as crooked as they make them, and he never had an honest man work for
him that I know of."
As the acceptance of the police official's theory would save them the
necessity of investigating the story further, the reporters agreed to
accept his version, and to accord with it they wrote their stories.
As Jack Foster left the police station, his anger at the system which
made it impossible for a person without influence or money to obtain
justice, was strong, and his heart went out to the boy, as he thought
how he would feel, were he himself in his place.
"If that boy isn't honest from the soles of his feet to the top of his
head, I shall be the most surprised man in New York," he said to
himself, "and if my paper has any influence, I am going to get him out
of his trouble."
Occupied with considering various plans for aiding Bob, Foster quickly
reached the store of Len Dardus, but as he entered and caught sight of
an old, gray-haired man, with a face in which craftiness was the chief
characteristic, he wondered if, after all, the police sergeant could
have been right.
"Is this Mr. Len Dardus?" asked Foster, walking up to the counter,
behind which this repelling creature stood.
"That's my name," snapped the proprietor of the store, adding as he
scrutinized his questioner closely:
"What do _you_ want?"
"I want to know if you have a boy working for you by the name of Bob
Chester."
"I have, but I won't have after to-night, I can tell you. I have no use
for lazy boys, and for laziness he can't be beaten. Here I sent him to
deliver some goods more than two hours ago, and he hasn't got back yet,
and this is my busiest day."
So disagreeable was the tone in which the old man spoke that Foster
could not refrain from remarking:
"Well, you do not seem to be overrushed with trade just now. However,
that is neither here nor there. How long have you had Bob in your
employ?"
"Ever since he was big enough to be of any service to me."
"He's a good boy, isn't he?"
"No, he's not. Didn't I just tell you he has been gone over two hours,
delivering an order that should not have taken him more than fifteen
minutes at the most? No good boy would dawdle so about his business. But
why do you ask?"
Foster, however, was not ready to tell Bob's employer of his predicament
until he had obtained more information about the boy, and instead of
answering the question, said:
"You misunderstood my meaning. I want to know whether or not he is
honest or has any bad habits."
"He has the habit of taking a long time to deliver his orders, and he
always has some plausible excuse for the delay--although I never accept
his excuses. It isn't the way to bring up a boy. But he doesn't steal,
and I don't let him go out nights, so he can't have any companions. But
why do you ask? What business of yours is it?"
"Just one more question before I answer you."
"You seem mighty long on questions, but I'll not answer another one
until you tell me why you are taking such pains to find out about Bob.
He hasn't any friend but me. I'm his guardian."
So hostile was the grocer's manner becoming, and with such increasing
suspicion did he view his inquisitor, that Foster realized it would be
necessary to explain Bob's predicament were he to be able to help him,
and briefly he told the story that had been repeated in the police
station.
"That just goes to show my theory is right," declared the grocer, when
he had been given the particulars of his ward's arrest. "If Bob had gone
about his business and delivered the order, instead of being tempted by
the offer of a dollar, he wouldn't have got into this trouble. It will
be a good lesson for him, and I shall be able to get along some way, I
suppose, until he comes back."
"But surely you don't mean to say that you are not going to do anything
to help him out of his trouble?" exclaimed Foster in amazement, as he
heard the heartless words.
With a depreciating shrug of his shoulders, Len Dardus responded:
"But what can I do? It will cost money to hire a lawyer, or even to bail
him out. Besides, as I said, it will be a good lesson for him."
"But hasn't he any money of his own?" queried the reporter.
"What do you want to know for? Are you a lawyer? No, sir! if you are,
and have come to tell me about Bob in the hope that I will hire you, you
might as well go back to your place of business. I won't spend a cent on
him. The lesson will do him good."
The heartlessness of the grocer incensed Foster, and he retorted:
"It happens that I am not a lawyer, so it isn't any money that I am
after. I am acting simply from a desire to see the boy get fair
treatment, and if I were his guardian, whether he had any money or not,
I would do everything in my power to help him out of his trouble."
"But what can I do? There is no one to stay in the store here, and I
don't see how I could help any way."
"You could go down to the police station and speak a word for the lad.
If you have had the care of him for so long, what you could say in
regard to his honesty ought to be sufficient to cause his release."
As he mentioned the grocer's going to the police station, Foster thought
he noticed the old man tremble, as though in fear, and what the sergeant
had said about Dardus recurred to him, and while he hesitated as to
whether or not he should press the point, Bob's guardian exclaimed:
"I can't go now. There is no one to look after the store. But perhaps I
can go down this evening."
"That would be too late. His case will come up in court this afternoon."
"Well, if it does, the boy'll have to take the consequences. I always
told him he shouldn't linger over delivering his orders. It will be a
good lesson to him."
The incessant repetition of the last words grated on Foster's ears, and,
realizing that he was only wasting time in trying to persuade the
hard-hearted guardian to help his ward, he exclaimed:
"Then you refuse to do anything to assist Bob, do you?"
"Well, I don't know as I would put it exactly that way. I'll see if I
can't do something this evening."
"Well, you may be obliged to leave your store, whether you want to or
not," retorted Foster, and with this enigmatical remark, the very
suggestiveness of which caused an expression of fear to settle on the
face of the grocer, the reporter turned on his heel and left the shop.
CHAPTER III
FREE AGAIN
While Bob's champion, unknown to the boy, was interesting himself in his
cause, Bob was sitting on a little iron bunk his cell contained, staring
about him as though unable to comprehend the situation.
After a few minutes he heard footsteps approaching down the corridor,
and then he was suddenly aroused from his reverie by a voice exclaiming:
"Well, kid, you came near making a good-sized bit of money."
"I don't call a dollar a very large sum," retorted Bob.
"A dollar? What do you mean?" exclaimed one of the two men whom Bob
beheld standing outside the cell door, staring at him through the bars.
"You had seven hundred and fifty dollars of that countryman's money,
didn't you?"
"I saw seven hundred and fifty dollars of his money put in the envelope,
but all I was to get for holding the envelope until those bad men
returned was to be one dollar--and they didn't even come back to pay me,
and now I haven't delivered the groceries, and Mr. Dardus will be very
angry."
"Oh, ho! So you are Len Dardus' kid, are you?" queried the other of
Bob's inquisitors.
"I'm not his kid, but he is my guardian," corrected the lad in a voice
so full of reproach that the two men could not refrain from smiling.
"Then you don't like Dardus?" smiled the one who had addressed him
first.
"I think he is unreasonable," returned Bob.
"Yes, and none too honest," commented the other.
With the various methods known only to the police detectives of the
large metropolitan police forces, the two men put Bob through a grilling
examination, trying in every possible way to scare him into admitting
either a knowledge of who the swindlers were, or of direct complicity in
the confidence game, but without being able to shake his story, even in
the slightest detail.
Loath as the police officials were to admit Bob's innocence, his
straightforward answers and manly manner finally convinced them that he
was, as he had said, entirely guiltless, and they withdrew.
As they returned to the outer room of the police station, the sergeant
looked at them questioningly.
"That boy had nothing to do with the swindle," announced one of the men
who had been examining Bob.
"That's what," confirmed the other. "If there ever was an honest boy in
New York, that poor little chap back in the cell is one. If you take my
advice, sergeant, you will let him go, and you will change the entry on
your police book from 'Arrested and Held for Complicity,' to 'Held for
Examination'."
"What's the matter with all you guys, anyway?" snarled the sergeant, as
he saw that the weight of opinion was against him. "Has the boy
hypnotized you? It's enough to convict him that he should be working for
Len Dardus."
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