Bound To Succeed Part 15

"What's up?" hailed the policeman, running up breathlessly.

"A man tried to rob me," explained Frank.

"Thought I made out a struggle. Did he get anything?"

"No."

"Where did he go?"

Frank pointed towards the fan-shaped network of tracks melting into the gloom of the switchyards.

The policeman ran in that direction. Frank did not accompany him. He did not believe the officer would catch the thief. Besides, Frank was more interested in the strange young fellow who had done him such good service in his time of need.

Frank stepped up on the coach platform and peered up and down the sidings near by. His rescuer was nowhere in sight. Frank was sorry for this. The boy had struck him as a hard-luck object. His manifest reluctance against being seen by the officer suggested something sinister about him.

Frank stood waiting for the return of the policeman, a vivid picture of his rescuer in his mind. The boy had worn a cap pulled far down over his eyes. He seemed young, yet Frank recalled that he wore a moustache.

"I'd like to give him something for saving me the loss of all that money," said Frank. "The poor fellow looked as if he needed it. Any trace of the man, sir?"

"No," answered the policeman, coming back from a fruitless search.

"Better keep nearer the lights, young fellow. All kinds of rough characters hang around here, on the lookout for somebody to rob."

Frank walked with the policeman to the depot rotunda. He stayed outside, however. Once or twice he walked the whole breadth of the rotunda, peering down the pa.s.senger tracks and wishing he could find the boy who had beaten off the thief.

"There is some one now," suddenly exclaimed Frank to himself.

He made a dash down a lonely platform and ran across a couple of tracks.

"Yes, it's him," declared Frank. "Hey, just a minute. Why, what are you running away from me for?"

The person Frank was after had started up quickly at the first hail.

Frank overtook him, cornering him where some milk cars blocked the way south.

The strange boy braced back against the side of a car, pulled his cap down further over his eyes, and said.

"Want me?"

"Sure, I want you," cried Frank spiritedly. "First, to shake hands with you and thank you for your bravery in my behalf."

"Oh, that wasn't anything," observed the strange boy.

"No, only the saving of all the money I've got in the world," retorted Frank.

He shook the boy's hand warmly. The latter at last slightly returned the hand pressure, but kept looking about him furtively and uneasily.

"By the way," said Frank, "what was that you hit that man with?"

"A loose-jointed ventilator slide bar I found on top of the coach."

"And, if I may ask, what was you ever doing perched up there?"

"Well, if you must know, I was waiting for the train to start out. In fact," confessed the speaker in a low, constrained tone, "beating my way, stealing a ride."

"Where to?" asked Frank.

"Oh--anywhere, anywhere away from the city."

The boy said this in such a forlorn way that Frank felt there was some pathetic cause for the despair expressed.

"You ran away from the policeman, too," suggested Frank.

"Yes, he wouldn't have much use for my kind," observed the boy.

Frank was silent for a moment, intensely studying as far as the dim light would allow the figure and face of his companion.

"What's your name?" he asked suddenly.

"My name--oh," sort of stammered the boy, "why, it's Markham."

"Well, Markham," said Frank very kindly, placing a gentle hand on the lad's arm, "you and I should be good friends. Don't edge away from me.

You say you were trying to get out of the city. Had you no idea of where you were bound for?"

"Nowhere, but the country. Some place where I'd be safe--I mean where they couldn't find--that is, oh, just to get to some quiet little country town where I could get work."

"I've got the town and I'll guarantee the work," cried Frank heartily, slapping Markham on the shoulder. "See here, no secrets between friends now. You've got no money, or you wouldn't be riding on car tops."

"That's true enough," admitted the boy, forcing a laugh.

"And maybe you're hungry."

There was no reply to this, but Markham's eager eyes strayed in the direction of the lighted waiting room and its gleaming coffee tank and polished lunch counter.

"Come on," urged Frank, keeping up a cheery, good-fellow air. "I'm ready for a bite, too."

Markham held back as Frank tried to pull him along with him.

"See here--"

"Newton--Frank Newton, that's me."

"Well, I can't go with you. In the first place, I'm a sight for respectable people. In the next place," went on Markham, "there's some people I don't want to risk meeting."

Frank reflected for a moment or two.

"Will you stay here for five minutes till I come back?" he asked.

"Why, yes, if you want me to," was the reply.