Phil, the Fiddler

  CHAPTER XIII

  PHIL FINDS A CAPITALIST

  To account for Phil's unexpected loss, I must explain that Tim Rafferty,whose ordinary place of business was in or near the City Hall Park, hadbeen sent uptown on an errand. He was making his way back leisurely,when, just as he was passing Burnton's bookstore, he saw Phil lookingin at the window. He immediately recognized him as the little Italianfiddler who had refused to lend him his fiddle, as described in aprevious chapter. In his attempt he was frustrated by Paul Hoffman. Hisdefeat incensed him, and he determined, if he ever met Phil again, to"get even with him," as he expressed it. It struck him that this was agood opportunity to borrow his fiddle without leave.

  When Phil discovered his loss, he determined to run after the thief.

  "Give me back my fiddle!" he cried.

  But this Tim was in no hurry to do. As he had longer legs than Phil, thechances were that he would escape. But some distance ahead he saw one ofthe blue-coated guardians of the public peace, or, in newsboy parlance,a cop, and saw that Phil could easily prove theft against him, as itwould be impossible to pass himself off as a fiddler. He must get rid ofthe violin in some way, and the sooner the better. He threw it into themiddle of the street, just as a heavy cart was coming along. The wheelsof the ponderous vehicle passed over the frail instrument, crushing itutterly. Phil ran forward to rescue his instrument, but too late. Itwas spoiled beyond recovery. Phil picked up the pieces mechanically, andtook them back with him, but he soon realized that he might as well castthem away again. Meanwhile Tim, satisfied with the mischief he had done,and feeling revenged for his former mortification, walked up a sidestreet, and escaped interference.

  Phil had come to one of those crises in human experience when it isnecessary to pause and decide what to do next. The fiddle was not avaluable one--in fact, it was a shabby little instrument--but it wasPhil's stock in trade. Moreover, it belonged to the padrone, and howeverinnocent Phil might be as regarded its destruction, his tyrannicalmaster was sure to call him to heavy account for it. He was certain tobe severely punished, more so than the evening before, and this wasnot a pleasant prospect to look forward to. The padrone was sure not toforgive an offense like this.

  Thinking over these things, a bold suggestion came into Phil's mind.Why need he go back at all? Why should he not take this occasion forbreaking his fetters, and starting out into life on his own account?There was nothing alarming in that prospect. He was not afraid but thathe could earn his own living, and fare better than he did at present,when out of his earnings and those of his comrades the padrone wasgrowing rich. Other boys had run away, and though some had been broughtback, others had managed to keep out of the cruel clutches of theirdespotic master.

  It did not take Phil long to come to a decision. He felt that he shouldnever have a better chance. He had three dollars in his pocket thanksto the generosity of the sailors--and this would last him some time.It would enable him to get out of the city, which would be absolutelynecessary, since, if he remained, the padrone would send Pietro for himand get him back.

  There was only one regret he had at leaving the padrone. It would parthim from his little comrade, Giacomo. Giacomo, at least, would misshim. He wished the little boy could have gone with him, but this, underpresent circumstances, was impossible. By staying he would only incur asevere punishment, without being able to help his comrade.

  It was still but nine o'clock. He had plenty of time before him, ashe would not be missed by the padrone until he failed to make hisappearance at night. Having no further occasion to go uptown, hedecided to turn and walk down into the business portion of the city.He accordingly made his way leisurely to the City Hall Park, when hesuddenly bethought himself of Paul Hoffman, who had served as his friendon a former occasion. Besides Giacomo, Paul was the only friend on whomhe could rely in the city. Paul was older and had more experience thanhe, and could, no doubt, give him good advice as to his future plans.

  He crossed the Park and Broadway, and kept along on the west side of thestreet until he reached the necktie stand kept by Paul. The young streetmerchant did not at first see him, being occupied with a customer, towhom he finally succeeded in selling two neckties; then looking up, herecognized the young fiddler.

  "How are you, Phil?" he said, in a friendly manner. "Where have you keptyourself? I have not seen you for a long time."

  "I have been fiddling," said Phil.

  "But I don't see your violin now. What has become of it?"

  "It is broken--destroyed," said Phil.

  "How did that happen?"

  Phil described the manner in which his violin had been stolen.

  "Do you know who stole it?"

  "It was that boy who tried to take it once in the Park."

  "When I stopped him?"

  "Yes."

  "I know him. It is Tim Rafferty. He is a mean boy; I will pay him up forit."

  "I do not care for it now," said Phil.

  "But what will your padrone say when you come home without it?"

  "He would beat me, but I will not go home."

  "What will you do?"

  "I will run away."

  "Good for you, Phil! I like your spunk," said Paul, heartily. "Iwouldn't go back to the old villain if I were you. Where are you going?"

  "Away from New York. If I stay here the padrone would catch me."

  "How much did you earn with your fiddle when you had it?"

  "Two dollars, if it was a good day."

  "That is excellent. I'll tell you what, Phil, if you could stay in thecity, I would invite you to come and live with us. You could pay yourshare of the expense, say three or four dollars a week, and keep therest of your money to buy clothes, and to save."

  "I should like it," said Phil; "but if I stay in the city the padronewould get hold of me."

  "Has he any legal right to your services?" asked Paul.

  Phil looked puzzled. He did not understand the question.

  "I mean did your father sign any paper giving you to him?"

  "Yes," said Phil, comprehending now.

  "Then I suppose he could take you back. You think you must go away fromthe city, then, Phil?"

  "Yes."

  "Where do you think of going?"

  "I do not know."

  "You might go to Jersey--to Newark, which is quite a large city, onlyten miles from here."

  "I should like to go there."

  "I don't think the padrone would send there to find you. But how are yougoing to make your living--you have lost your fiddle?"

  "I can sing."

  "But you would make more money with your fiddle."

  "Si, signore."

  "Don't talk to me in Italian, Phil; I no understand it."

  Phil laughed.

  "You can speak English much better than most Italian boys."

  "Some cannot speak at all. Some speak french, because we all stayed inParis sometime before we came to America."

  "Parlez-vous Francais?"

  "Oui, monsieur, un peu."

  "Well, I can't. Those three words are all the French I know. But, I say,Phil, you ought to have a fiddle."

  "I should like to have one. I should make more money."

  "How much would one cost?"

  "I don't know."

  "I'll tell you what I will do, Phil," said Paul, after a moment'sthought. "I know a pawnbroker's shop on Chatham Street where there isa fiddle for sale. I don't think it will cost very much; not more thanfive dollars. You must buy it."

  "I have not five dollars," said Phil.

  "Then I will lend you the money. You shall buy it, and when you haveearned money enough you shall come back to New York some day and payme."

  "Thank you," said Phil, gratefully. "I will surely pay you."

  "Of course you will, Phil," said Paul, confidently. "I can see by yourface that you are honest. I don't believe you would cheat your friend."

  "I would not cheat you, Signor Paul."

  "I see, Phil, you are
bound to make an Italian of me. You may justcall me Paul, and don't mind about the signor. Now I'll tell you what Ipropose. I cannot leave my business for an hour and a half. You can gowhere you please, but come back at that time, and I will take you hometo dinner with me. On the way back I will stop with you at the ChathamStreet store and ask the price of the violin; then, if it doesn't costtoo much, I will buy it."

  "All right," said Phil.

  "You must come back at twelve o'clock, Phil."

  "I will come."

  Phil strolled down to the Battery, feeling a little strange without hisviolin. He was elated with the thought of his coming freedom, and forthe first time since he landed in America the future looked bright tohim.