Bernard Brooks' Adventures: The Experience of a Plucky Boy

“I don’t know anything about Albany firms,” said Bernard.

“Then you don’t live in Albany?”

“I never saw the city till yesterday.”

The young man read the paragraph.

“Rather a clever robbery,” he said, in a tone of indifference.

“I think any robbery is foolish,” responded Bernard.

“Yes, of course; that is the proper view to take of it. I suppose you attend Sunday school?”

There was a lurking sneer in the young man’s tone, as Bernard thought.

“I am not connected with a Sunday school at present,” he said.

“I don’t think Sunday school boys are better than any other.”

“They ought to be.”

“True, but we have to consider facts. Won’t you go down-stairs and drink a glass of beer?”

“No, thank you.”

“Oh, I forgot that you were a Sunday school boy. Well, ta, ta! I’ll see you again.”

There was something peculiar about the young man. Though it was a warm day he wore an ulster, which he never took off. Then he carried round his portmanteau with him all the time.

During the next two or three hours Bernard saw him several times.

There was something else also that drew his attention to the young man. He scanned his fellow passengers attentively, rather as if he was afraid of meeting some objectionable person. He seemed very restless also. He would seldom stay more than fifteen minutes in one spot.

Bernard had asked him his destination, but he evaded a straightforward reply.

“I am going wherever the boat does,” he said, with a smile. “How is it with you?”

“I suppose I shall land in New York.”

“Do you know any one there?”

“Yes, I know Mr. Cornelius McCracken.”

“Never heard of him. Is he an uncle of yours?”

“No, he is my guardian.”

“Your guardian?” repeated the young man, with interest. “Then you have property?”

“I don’t think so. Mr. McCracken says I have none.”

“Then what is the use of a guardian?”

“Not much. Probably he will throw me off.”

“Why?”

“Because I have run away from a school where he placed me.”

“Humph! Why did you do that?”

“I was not well treated. The teacher wanted to whip me.”

“And you objected?” said the young man, laughing.

“Yes.”

“I can’t blame you. I should have acted in the same way probably. Who is that man I have seen with you – he looks like a Yankee.”

“He is an acquaintance I made yesterday.”

“Are you traveling with him?”

“Yes.”

“He has a Western look.”

“I think he has been a miner in Colorado.”

“So. Has he much money, do you think?” Bernard began to think his companion too inquisitive, and he answered shortly, “I don’t know.”

“Hasn’t told you, I suppose. Well, I shouldn’t mind going out West myself and trying mining.”

“What business are you in?” asked Bernard, thinking he had a right to ask questions also.

“I am a traveling man,” answered the young man, after a slight hesitation.

They passed Newburg early in the afternoon. Shortly after reaching this place, as Bernard was sitting on a bench on the upper deck, his friend in the ulster came up to him hurriedly.

“Please take charge of my portmanteau a few minutes,” he said, “if it won’t be too much trouble.”

“No trouble at all,” replied Bernard politely.

The portmanteau was a small one, and it was hard to conjecture from its appearance what it might contain. Upon this point, however, Bernard was not curious.

“It can’t contain anything very valuable,” he reflected, “or the owner would hardly trust a stranger with it.”

They reached Newburg, and remained some time. Bernard thought of going down to the lower deck, but it occurred to him that the owner of the portmanteau might come back for it and be unable to find him. This was rather embarrassing and he felt sorry that he had been so obliging as to assume charge of property not his own.