CHAPTER XX.
STRANDED NEAR HOME.
It was after dark, on a Saturday evening, when the "New Lucy" landedher passengers at the levee, St. Louis. They should have been in thecity several hours earlier, and they had expected to arrive bydaylight. The lads marvelled much at the sight of the muddy waters ofthe Missouri running into the pure currents of the Mississippi, twentymiles above St. Louis, the two streams joining but not mingling, theyellow streak of the Big Muddy remaining separate and distinct fromthe flow of the Mississippi for a long distance below the joining ofthe two. They had also found new enjoyment in the sight of the great,many-storied steamboats with which the view was now diversified asthey drew nearer the beautiful city which had so long been the objectof their hopes and longings. They could not help thinking, as theylooked at the crowded levee, solid buildings, and slender churchspires, that all this was a strange contrast to the lonely prairie andwide, trackless spaces of their old home on the banks of the distantKansas stream. The Republican Fork seemed to them like a far-offdream, it was so very distant to them now.
"Where are you young fellows going to stop in St. Louis?" asked thepleasant-faced young man from Baltimore.
The lads had scarcely thought of that, and here was the city, thestrange city in which they knew nobody, in full sight. They exchangedlooks of dismay, Sandy's face wearing an odd look of amusement andapprehension mixed. Charlie timidly asked what hotels were the best.The young man from Baltimore named two or three which he said were"first-class," and Charlie thought to himself that they must avoidthose. They had no money to pay for their lodging, no baggage assecurity for their payment.
As soon as they could get away by themselves, they held a council todetermine what was to be done. They had the business address of theiruncle, Oscar Bryant, of the firm of Bryant, Wilder & Co., wholesaledealers in agricultural implements, Front Street. But they knew enoughabout city life to know that it would be hopeless to look for him inhis store at night. It would be nearly nine o'clock before they couldreach any hotel. What was to be done? Charlie was certain that nohotel clerk would be willing to give them board and lodging, pennilesswanderers as they were, with nothing but one small valise to answer asluggage for the party. They could have no money until they found theiruncle.
Before they could make up their minds what to do, or which way toturn, the boat had made her landing and was blowing off steam at thelevee. The crowds of passengers, glad to escape from the narrow limitsof the steamer, were hurrying ashore. The three homeless and houselesslads were carried resistlessly along with the crowd. Charlie regrettedthat they had not asked if they could stay on the boat until Sundaymorning. But Sandy and Oscar both scouted such a confession of theirpoverty. "Besides," said Sandy, "it is not likely that they would keepany passengers on board here at the levee."
"Ride up? Free 'bus to the Planters'!" cried one of the runners on thelevee, and before the other two lads could collect their thoughts, theenergetic Sandy had drawn them into the omnibus, and they were ontheir way to an uptown hotel. When the driver had asked where theirbaggage was, Sandy, who was ready to take command of things, hadairily answered that they would have it sent up from the steamer.There were other passengers in the 'bus, and Charlie, anxious anddistressed, had no chance to remonstrate; they were soon rattling andgrinding over the pavements of St. Louis. The novelty of the ride andthe glitter of the brightly lighted shops in which crowds of peoplewere doing their Saturday-night buying, diverted their attention for atime. Then the omnibus backed up before a handsome hotel, andnumerous colored men came hurrying down the steps of the grandentrance to wait upon the new arrivals. With much ceremony andobsequiousness, the three young travellers were ushered into theoffice, where they wrote their names in a big book, and were escortedto a large and elegant room, in which were ample, even luxurious,sleeping accommodations for the trio.
The colored porter assiduously brushed off the clothing of the lads."Baggage?" the clerk at the desk had asked when they registered."Baggage, sah?" the waiter asked again, as he dusted briskly thejackets of the three guests. Neither Charlie nor Oscar had the heartto make reply to this very natural question. It was Sandy who said:"We will not have our baggage up from the steamer to-night. We aregoing right on up north."
But when Sandy tipped the expectant waiter with the long-treasuredsilver quarter of a dollar, Charlie fairly groaned, and sinking into achair as the door closed, said, "Our last quarter! Great Scott, Sandy!are you crazy?"
Sandy, seeing that there was no help for it, put on a bold front, andinsisted that they must keep up appearances to the last. He would huntup Uncle Oscar's place of abode in the city directory after supper,and bright and early Sunday morning he would go and see him. Theywould be all right then. What use was that confounded old quarter,anyhow? They might as well stand well with the waiter. He might beuseful to them. Twenty-five cents would not pay their hotel bill; itwould not buy anything they needed in St. Louis. The darky might aswell have it.
"And this is one of the swellest and most expensive hotels in thecity," cried Charlie, eyeing the costly furniture and fittings of theroom in which they were lodged. "I just think that we are travellingunder false pretences, putting up at an expensive house like thiswithout a cent in our pockets. Not one cent! What will you do, youcheeky boy, if they ask us for our board in advance? I have heard thatthey always do that with travellers who have no baggage."
"Well, I don't know what we will do," said Sandy, doggedly. "Supposewe wait until they ask us. There'll be time enough to decide when weare dunned for our bill. I suppose the honestest thing would be to ownright up and tell the whole truth. It's nothing to be ashamed of. Lotsof people have to do that sort of thing when they get into a tightplace."
"But I'm really afraid, Sandy, that they won't believe us," said thepractical Oscar. "The world is full of swindlers as well as of honestfellows. They might put us out as adventurers."
"We are not adventurers!" cried Sandy, indignantly. "We are gentlemenwhen we are at home, able to pay our debts. We are overtaken by anaccident," he added, chuckling to himself. "Distressed gentlemen,don't you see?"
"But we might have gone to a cheaper place," moaned Charlie. "Here weare in the highest-priced hotel in St. Louis. I know it, for I heardthat Baltimore chap say so. We might have put up at some third-ratehouse, anyhow."
"But it is the third-rate house that asks you for your baggage, andmakes you pay in advance if you don't have any," cried Sandy,triumphantly. "I don't believe that a high-toned hotel like this dunspeople in advance for their board, especially if it is a casualtraveller, such as we are. Anyhow, they haven't dunned us yet, andwhen they do, I'll engage to see the party through, Master Charlie; soyou set your mind at rest." As for Charlie, he insisted that he wouldkeep out of the sight of the hotel clerk, until relief came in theshape of money to pay their bill.
Oscar, who had been reading attentively a printed card tacked to thedoor of the room, broke in with the declaration that he was hungry,and that supper was served until ten o'clock at night. The othersmight talk all night, for all he cared; he intended to have somesupper. There was no use arguing about the chances of being dunned fortheir board; the best thing he could think of was to have some boardbefore he was asked to pay for it. And he read out the list of hoursfor dinner, breakfast, and supper from the card.
"There is merit in your suggestion," said Charlie, with a grim smile."The dead-broke Boy Settlers from the roaring Republican Fork willdescend to the banquet-hall." Charlie was recovering his spirits underOscar's cool and unconcerned advice to have board before being in theway of paying for it.
After supper, the lads, feeling more cheerful than before, saunteredup to the clerk's desk, and inspected the directory of the city. Theyfound their uncle's name and address, and it gave them a gleam ofpleasure to see his well-remembered business card printed on the pageopposite. Under the street address was printed Mr. Bryant's place ofresidence, thus: "h. at Hyde Park."
"Where's that?" as
ked Sandy, confidently, of the clerk.
"Oh! that's out of the city a few miles. You can ride out there in thestage. Only costs you a quarter."
Only a quarter! And the last quarter had gone to the colored boy withthe whisk-broom.
"Here's a go!" said Sandy, for once a little cast down. "We might walkit," Oscar whispered, as they moved away from the desk. But to thisCharlie, asserting the authority of an elder brother, steadfastlyobjected. He knew his Uncle Oscar better than the younger boys did. Heremembered that he was a very precise and dignified elderly gentleman.He would be scandalized greatly if his three wandering nephews shouldcome tramping out to his handsome villa on a Sunday, like threevagabonds, to borrow money enough to get home to Dixon with. No; thatwas not to be thought of. Charlie said he would pawn his watch onMonday morning; he would walk the streets to keep out of the way ofthe much-dreaded hotel clerk; but, as for trudging out to his UncleOscar's on Sunday, he would not do it, nor should either of the othersstir a step. So they went to bed, and slept as comfortably in theirluxurious apartment as if they had never known anything less handsome,and had money in plenty to pay all demands at sight.
It was a cloudy and chilly November Sunday to which the boys awokenext day. The air was piercingly raw, and the city looked dust-coloredand cheerless under the cold, gray sky. Breaking their fast (Charliekeeping one eye on the hotel office), they sallied forth to see thecity. They saw it all over, from one end to the other. They walked andwalked, and then went back to the hotel; and after dinner, walked andwalked again. They hunted up their uncle's store in one of thedeserted business streets of the city; and they gazed at its exteriorwith a curious feeling of relief. There was the sign on theprosperous-looking outside of the building,--"Oscar G. Bryant & Co.,Agricultural Implements." There, at least, was a gleam of comfort. Thestore was a real thing. Their uncle, little though they knew abouthim, was a real man.
Then, as the evening twilight gathered, they walked out to the bordersof the suburb where he lived. They did not venture into the avenuewhere they had been told his house was, vaguely fearing that he mightmeet and recognize them. As they turned their steps towards the hotel,Oscar said: "It's lucky there are three of us to keep ourselves incountenance. If that wasn't the case, it would be awfully lonely tothink we were so near home, and yet have gone ashore, hard and fastaground; right in sight of port, as it were."
The parents of these boys had been born and brought up near theseacoast of New England, and not a few marine figures of speech weremingled in the family talk. So Charlie took up the parable andgloomily said: "We are as good as castaways in this big ocean of acity, with never a soul to throw us a spar or give us a hand. I neverfelt so blue in all my life. Look at those children playing in thatdooryard. Pretty poor-looking children they are; but they've got ahome over their heads to-night. We haven't."
"Oh, pshaw, Charlie!" broke in Sandy; "why will you always look on thedark side of things? I know it's real lonesome here in a strange city,and away from our own folks. But they are not so far away but what wecan get to them after a while. And we have got a roof over our headsfor to-night, anyway; the Planters' is good enough for me; if youwant anything better, you will have to get outside of St. Louis forit; and, what is more, they are not going to dun us for our board billuntil after to-day. I'm clean beat out traipsing around this town, andI give you two fellows notice that I am not going to stir a step outof the hotel to-night. Unless it is to go to church," he added by wayof postscript.
They did go to church that night, after they had had their supper. Itwas a big, comfortable, and roomy church, and the lads were shown intoa corner pew under the gallery, where they were not conspicuous. Themusic of choir and organ was soothing and comforting. One of the tunessung was "Dundee," and each boy thought of their singing the song of"The Kansas Emigrants," as the warbling measures drifted down to themfrom the organ-loft, lifting their hearts with thoughts that thestrangers about them knew nothing of. The preacher's text was "In myfather's house are many mansions." Then they looked at each otheragain, as if to say, "That's a nice text for three homeless boys in astrange city." But nobody even so much as whispered.
Later on in the sermon, when the preacher touched a tender chord inOscar's heart, alluding to home and friends, and to those who wanderfar from both, the lad, with a little moisture in his eyes, turned tolook at Sandy. He was fast asleep in his snug corner. Oscar made amotion to wake him, but Charlie leaned over and said, "Leave the poorboy alone. He's tired with his long tramp to-day." When they went outafter the service was over, Oscar rallied Sandy on his sleeping inchurch, and the lad replied: "I know it was bad manners, but the lastthing I heard the minister say, was 'Rest for the weary.' I thoughtthat was meant for me. Leastways, I found rest for the weary rightoff, and I guess there was no harm done."
With Monday morning came sunshine and a clear and bracing air. EvenCharlie's face wore a cheerful look, the first that he had put onsince arriving in St. Louis, although now and again his heart quakedas he heard the hotel porter's voice in the hall roaring out the timeof departure for the trains that now began to move from the city inall directions. They had studied the railroad advertisements andtime-tables to some purpose, and had discovered that they must crossto East St. Louis, on the Illinois side of the Mississippi River, andthere take a train for the northern part of the State, where Dixon issituated. But they must first see their Uncle Oscar, borrow the neededmoney from him, settle with the steamboat people and the hotel, andthen get to the railroad station by eleven o'clock in the forenoon. Itwas a big morning's work.
They were at their uncle's store before he arrived from his suburbanhome; and, while they waited, they whisperingly discussed thequestion, Who should ask for the money? Charlie was at first disposedto put this duty on Sandy; but the other two boys were very sure thatit would not look well for the youngest of the party to be the leaderon an occasion so important; and Charlie was appointed spokesman.
Mr. Oscar Bryant came in. He was very much surprised to see threestrange lads drawn up in a row to receive him. And he was still moretaken aback when he learned that they were his nephews, on their wayhome from Kansas. He had heard of his brother's going out to Kansas,and he had not approved of it at all. He was inclined to think that,on the whole, it would be better for Kansas to have slavery than to dowithout it. A great many other people in St. Louis thought the sameway, at that time, although some of them changed their minds lateron.
Mr. Oscar Bryant was a tall, spruce-looking, and severe man inappearance. His hair was gray and brushed stiffly back from hisforehead; and his precise, thin, white whiskers were cut "just like aminister's," as Sandy afterwards declared; and when he said that goingto Kansas to make it a free State was simply the rankest kind offolly, Charlie's heart sunk, and he thought to himself that the chanceof borrowing money from their stern-looking uncle was rather slim.
"But it doesn't make any difference to you boys whether slavery isvoted up or down in Kansas, I suppose," he continued, less sternly."You will live to see the day when, if you live in Kansas, you willown slaves and work them. You can never clear up a wild country likethat without slave-labor, depend upon it. I know what I am talkingabout." And Uncle Oscar stroked his chin in a self-satisfied way, asif he had settled the whole Kansas-Nebraska question in his own mannerof thinking. Sandy's brown cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkled. Hewas about to burst out with an indignant word, when Charlie, alarmedby his small brother's excited looks, blurted out their troubles atonce, in order to head off the protest that he expected from Sandy.The lad was silent.
"Eh? what's that?" asked the formal-looking merchant. "Busted? Andaway from home? Why, certainly, my lads. How much do you need?" And heopened his pocket-book at once. Greatly relieved, perhaps surprised,Charlie told him that they thought that fifty dollars would pay alltheir bills and get them back to Dixon. The money was promptly handedover, and Charlie, emboldened by this good nature, told his uncle thatthey still owed for their passage down the river from Leaven
worth.
"And did they really trust you three boys for your passage-money? Howdid that happen?" asked the merchant, with admiration.
Charlie, as spokesman, explained that Sandy had "sparred" their wayfor them; and when he had told how Sandy still owed for a pack ofcards, and how it was his honest face and candid way of doing thingsthat had brought them thus far on their homeward journey, Uncle Oscar,laughing heartily and quite unbending from his formal and dry way oftalking, said, "Well done, my little red-hot Abolitionist; you'll getthrough this world, I'll be bound." He bade the wanderers farewell andgoodspeed with much impressiveness and sent messages of good-will totheir parents.
"How do you suppose Uncle Oscar knew I was an Abolitionist?" demandedSandy, as soon as they were out of earshot. "I'm not an Abolitionist,anyhow."
"Well, you're a free-State man; and that's the same thing," saidCharlie. "A free-State boy," added Oscar.
With a proud heart the cashier of the Boy Settlers paid their bill atthe hotel, and reclaimed their valise from the porter, with whom theyhad lodged it in the morning before going out. Then they hurried tothe levee, and, to their surprise, found that the little steamer thatconveyed passengers across the river to the East St. Louis railwaystation lay close alongside the "New Lucy." Their task of transferringthe baggage was easy.
"Say, Sandy, you made the bargain with the clerk to bring us down hereon the security of our luggage; it's nothing more than business-likethat you should pay him what we owe," said Charlie.
"Right you are, Charlie," added Oscar, "and it's fair that Sandy, whohas had the bother of sparring our way for us, should have the proudsatisfaction of paying up all old scores." So Sandy, nothing loth,took the roll of bills and marched bravely up to the clerk's officeand paid the money due. The handsome clerk looked approvingly at theboy, and said: "Found your friends? Good boy! Well, I wish you goodluck."
The barkeeper said he had forgotten all about the pack of cards thathe had trusted Sandy with, when the lad gave him the seventy-fivecents due him. "I can't always keep account of these little things,"he explained.
"But you don't often trust anybody with cards coming down the river,do you?" asked Sandy, surprised.
"Heaps," said the barkeeper.
"And do they always pay?"
"Some of 'em does, and then ag'in, some of 'em doesn't," replied theman, as with a yawn he turned away to rearrange his bottles andglasses.
With the aid of a lounger on the landing, whom they thought they couldnow afford to fee for a quarter, the youngsters soon transferred theirluggage from the "New Lucy" to the little ferry-boat near at hand. Totheir great pleasure, they found on board the pleasant-faced ladyfrom Baltimore and her party. She was apparently quite as pleased tomeet them, and she expressed her regret that they were not goingeastward on the train with herself and sons. "We have had such apleasant trip down the river together," she said. "And you are goingback to Illinois? Will you return to Kansas in the spring?"
"We cannot tell yet," replied Charlie, modestly. "That all dependsupon how things look in the spring, and what father and Uncle Aleckthink about it. We are free-State people, and we want to see theTerritory free, you see."
The pleasant-faced lady's forehead was just a little clouded when shesaid, "You will have your labor lost, if you go to Kansas, then; forit will certainly be a slave State."
They soon were in the cars with their tickets for Dixon bought, and,as Sandy exultingly declared, paid for, and their baggage checked allthe way through. Then Sandy said, "I'm sorry that pretty lady fromBaltimore is a Border Ruffian."
The other two boys shouted with laughter, and Oscar cried: "She's noBorder Ruffian. She's only pro-slavery; and so is Uncle Oscar and lotsof others. You ought to be ashamed of yourself to be so--what is it,Charlie? Intolerant, that's what it is."
The train was slowly moving from the rude shed that was dignified bythe name of railroad depot. Looking back at the river with their headsout of the windows, for the track lay at right angles with the riverbank, they could now see the last of the noble stream on which theyhad taken their journey downwards from "bleeding Kansas" by the BigMuddy. They were nearing home, and their hearts were all the lighterfor the trials and troubles through which they had so lately passed.
"We don't cross the prairies as of old our fathers crossed the sea,any more, do we, Charlie?" said Oscar, as they caught their lastglimpse of the mighty Mississippi.
"No," said the elder lad. "We may not be there to see it; but Kansaswill be the homestead of the free, for all that. Mind what I say."
Typography by J. S. Cushing & Co., Boston.
Presswork by Berwick & Smith, Boston.
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