"Look out," cried Roy, "they are swindlers!"
"There's that boy!" exclaimed Hynard, as he drew out his hand.
But Mr. De Royster had felt the sneaking fingers, and had made a grab for them. He was too late, however, and, in attempting to catch Hynard he stumbled and fell.
"Come on!" cried Baker to his companions. "Let him go! We've got the stuff."
"Grab them!" cried Roy to De Royster. "I'll help you."
He rushed forward. No sooner did the swindlers see him coming, than they changed their plans. They had intended jumping on the train, which was already in motion, and leaving Mr. De Royster behind, after they had his watch and diamond.
But Roy's quickness prevented this. Baker signalled to his companions, and they ran off down the track.
"Come on!" cried Roy. "We'll catch them!"
"No! I must go to New York," replied the salesman as he arose, and brushed off his clothes. "The train is going."
"But they've got your valuables!"
"I know it. I was a fool, but it's too late now. Help me aboard."
The train was gathering headway. Roy ceased his pursuit of the robbers and helped De Royster aboard, the young man carrying his dress-suit case. Then Roy followed, while the four swindlers kept on down the railroad tracks.
CHAPTER X
ROY GAINS A FRIEND
"Come neah gettin' left, sah!" exclaimed the colored porter of Roy's car, as our hero, followed by Mortimer De Royster, entered the coach. "Dat were a close call, sah."
"Yes, but I wish I had had a chance to round-up those swindlers. I'd shown them how we handle such chaps out on the ranch!" exclaimed Roy.
"Swindlers? Was dem nicely dressed gen'men swindlers?" inquired the porter.
"Swindlers, upon my word, they are the very worst kind," put in De Royster. "The idea of tricking me into letting them see my watch, and then keeping it, don't you know! I shall report them to the authorities."
"I'm afraid it will not do much good," remarked Roy. "They are far enough away by now, and we're getting farther off from them every minute."
"That's so. Well, then, my watch and diamond pin are gone," and the dude seemed to accept the loss quite calmly.
"Excuse me, sah," broke in the colored man, addressing De Royster, "but has youh a ticket for dis parlor car?"
"Not yet. I could not buy one at the little station back there, but you may get me one, from the conductor, don't you know," spoke the well-dressed youth, taking a roll of bills from his pocket. At the sight of the money the eyes of the colored man shone in anticipation of a tip he might receive. His opinion of the stranger went up several points. Such is the effect of money, and it is not always the right one.
"Are you going to travel in this car?" asked Roy.
"Yes, it looks like a fairly decent coach. I am really quite particular how I ride."
Roy was rather amused at the airs Mortimer De Royster assumed, and he did not quite know whether to like him or not. The youth had an affected manner of speaking, and some oddities, but, in spite of these Roy thought he might be all right at heart.
The boy from the ranch had learned, from his life in the west, not to judge persons by outward appearances, though they often give an indication of character.
"I don't believe I thanked you for what you did for me," went on De Royster to Roy, when the porter returned with his ticket and the change. The colored man's heart was made happy by a generous tip.
"I don't know that I did anything in particular. I didn't think they were going to take your hide off, or I would have warned you sooner."
"My hide off? I don't quite catch your meaning, my dear chap—Oh, yes, I see. You mean they were going to skin me. Oh, yes. That's a good joke. Ha! Ha! Well, thanks to you, they didn't."
"Still they got something."
"Yes, that watch was a valuable one, and one my father gave me as a present. The diamond was worth considerable, too. But I am glad they did not get my money. Only for your timely warning they might have. Some of it is mine, but the most of it belongs to the firm I work for."
"They tried to get me into some swindling games, but I refused to have anything to do with them," and Roy told of the efforts of Baker and his cronies.
"I was easily taken in," admitted Mortimer De Royster. "I am ashamed of myself."
"Do you carry a valuable stock?" asked Roy, wondering if it were not dangerous to have so much jewelry about one.
"Quite valuable, yes, but all traveling jewelry salesmen belong to a league, and if thieves get away with anything belonging to any member, we have the services of a good detective agency to run the criminals down. The professional thieves know this, and, as capture is almost certain in the end, we have little fear of being robbed. These swindlers took my personal property, and nothing belonging to the firm, I'm glad to say."
"Perhaps you will get it back," suggested Roy.
"No, I'm afraid not. But I say, my dear chap, where are you going? You don't look as if you had traveled much."
"I haven't. I am going to New York on business for my father."
"To New York? Good! Then I shall have company on the way. That is unless you don't like to be seen with one who lets himself be robbed so easily."
"That would not make any difference to me."
"Thank you. Perhaps I may be able to be of some service to you in New York. I know the town fairly well."
"That will be very kind of you. I know nothing about it, and I'm afraid I'll be rather green when I get there. I have lived on a ranch all my life."
"On a ranch? Fancy now! Really, don't you know, I often used to think I would like to be a cowboy," drawled the dude.
Roy looked at the slim figure, and delicate features of Mr. De Royster, and thought that he would hardly be strong enough for the rough life on the plains. But he was too polite to mention this.
"Yes," went on the well-dressed youth, "if I had not gone into the jewelry business I might now be a 'cow-puncher,'—I believe that is what you call those gentlemen who take charge of wild steers?" and he looked at his companion inquiringly.
"Yes, some folks call 'em that."
"It must be a very nice sort of life. Now this sort of thing is rather tame, don't you know."
"Well, you had it exciting enough a while ago."
"So I did," admitted Mr. De Royster with a smile. "But that doesn't happen every day. I wish I could do you some favor, in return for what you did for me."
"I didn't do much. I wish I could have gotten them in time to have saved your watch and chain. But they stampeded before I could rope them."
"Stampeded?"
"Yes, I mean they started to run."
"Oh, yes. And—er—rope—"
"Oh, I forgot you didn't understand my lingo. I meant catch them. Whenever we want to catch anything on the ranch, we rope it. Throw a lariat over it, you know."
"Oh, yes, a lasso. I should like to have seen you lasso those chaps. Have you a lasso with you?"
"I have one in my large valise."
"Where are you going to stop in New York?"
"I don't know yet. I'm going to look around for a good place to get my grub, and a bunk after I get there."
"Your grub and bunk?" Mr. De Royster seemed puzzled.
"Well, I mean my meals and a place to sleep."
"Ah, then perhaps I can be of service to you. I know most of the best hotels, and I can introduce you to the managers of some of them. Do you intend to remain in the city long?"
"I can't tell. I don't just know how long my father's business will keep me. Probably I shall be there several weeks."
"Then I'll tell you what I'll do," said De Royster, in a friendly tone. "I'll get you fixed up at a good hotel, and then I'll show you the sights."
"But how can you spare the time from your business?" asked Roy, who was beginning to think he had found a real friend in the rather eccentric person of Mortimer De Royster.
"Oh, my work is nearly done now for the season. I shall not start out on the road again until fall, when I shall take goods for the spring trade. I was selling Christmas stock this trip."
"Christmas stock, and it is only June," exclaimed Roy. "My, but they hustle things in the East!"
"They have to. That's why I'll have some spare time now. I can show you various sights of interest, and, in turn, you must promise to protect me from robbers. I think I'll have to get a guardian if this keeps on," and the dude laughed at his joke.
"I'll do my best," replied Roy. "If I see those fellows again, they'll not get off so easily."
"Then we'll consider ourselves friends!" exclaimed De Royster, extending his hand, which Roy shook warmly.
The boy was quite attracted to the young man, whom he began to like more and more, as he saw that, under his queer ways, he hid a heart of real worth and kindness.
CHAPTER XI
ROY STOPS A RUNAWAY
With a companion who proved himself as interesting as did Mortimer De Royster, the time passed very quickly for Roy. Almost before he knew it the train was pulling into Chicago, where they changed cars.
He wanted to stop off and view the stock yards, but there was not time for this. However he saw much of interest from the car windows, and De Royster pointed out various objects, explaining them as the express passed by.
"We'll soon be in New York now," said the well-dressed youth, as the train passed beyond the confines of the "Windy City."
"Is New York larger than Chicago?" asked Roy.
"Larger? Well, I guess, and it beats it every way."
"What's that you said, young man?" inquired an individual, seated back of Roy and his new friend.
"I said New York was larger and better in every way than Chicago, don't you know," replied De Royster, looking at the man through his single eyeglass.
"You must hail from New York then?"
"I do."
"I thought so. You don't know Chicago, or you wouldn't say that. Chicago has New York beaten any way you look at it."
"Then I reckon you're from Chicago, stranger," put in Roy, who had the easy and familiar manners which life in the west breeds.
"I am, and I don't believe I'm far wrong when I say you're from off a ranch."
"I am," admitted Roy, wondering how the stranger had guessed so soon.
"Well, there's no use getting into a dispute over our respective cities," went on the stranger. "Everyone thinks his home town is the best. Are you two traveling far?"
Thus the conversation opened, and the three were soon chatting pleasantly together.
In due time the train arrived at Jersey City, just across the Hudson River from New York.
"Here we are!" exclaimed Mr. De Royster. "A short trip across the ferry now, and we'll be in the biggest city in the Western hemisphere."
Roy followed his friend from the train, mingling with the crowd on the platform under the big shed.
"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Roy.
"What for?"
"I've got to see about my baggage. It's checked. I wonder if I can hire a pack mule, or get a stage driver to bring it up?"
"Pack mule?"
"Sure. That's how I got it from the ranch to the depot."
Mortimer De Royster laughed.
"I guess there isn't a pack mule within two thousand miles of here," he said. "Nor a stage either, unless it's the automobile ones on Fifth avenue. But I'll show you what to do. Wait a minute though. You don't know where you're going to stop, do you?"
"Not exactly."
"Then if you'll allow me, I'll pick out a good hotel for you."
"I'll leave it to you, pardner," said Roy, with a helpless feeling that, however much he might know about ranch life, he was all at sea in a big city.
"All right. Then I'll give your checks to an expressman, and he'll bring the trunks to the hotel. Right over this way."
Mortimer De Royster led Roy through the crowd, to the express office. The matter of the baggage was soon attended to, and the agent promised to have the trunk and large valise at the hotel before night. It was now four o'clock.
"Come on!" cried De Royster again, pushing his way through the crowd, with Roy who carried a small valise, containing a few clothes, following close after him.
"Wait a minute!" again called the boy from the ranch.
"What's the matter now?"
"I want to sort of get my bearings. This is a new trail to me, and I'd like to get the lay of the land. Say, what's all the stampede about? These folks are milling, ain't they?"
"Stampede? This isn't a stampede. They're in a rush to get the ferry boat. What do you mean by milling?"
"Why they're like cattle going around and around, and they don't seem to be getting anywhere."
"Oh, that's it, eh, my dear chap. Well, they're all anxious to get to New York, that's why they're rushing so. Come on or we'll miss the boat."
Mortimer De Royster led the way through the ferry house, and out on the boat. He took a seat in the ladies' cabin, and Roy sat down beside him. The dude had bought a paper, which he was glancing over, momentarily paying no attention to Roy.
Suddenly the boy from the ranch, who was looking about him with curious eyes, jumped up and exclaimed:
"Something's the matter. The depot has been cut loose!"
"Cut loose? What do you mean?"
"Why, we're afloat! There's water outside."
"Of course, my dear fellow. We're on the ferry boat, crossing to New York. What did yew think?"
"Are we on a boat?"
"Certainly. Where did you think you were?"
"I thought we were in the depot room, waiting for the boat to come in."
"Why, no. This is the boat. But of course the approach to it is through the depot, and it is hard to tell exactly where the dock leaves off and the boat begins. I should have told you, but I got interested in the paper."
"I was a little startled at first," admitted Roy with a smile. "I thought something had happened."
Several passengers who had heard this exclamation, were also smiling, but Roy did not mind this. Everything was so strange and novel that he wanted to see it all at once. It was no wonder that he mistook the boat for the waiting room of the station, as the ferry boat was so broad, and the cabin so large, that often strangers are deceived that way.
De Royster soon took Roy out on the lower deck, and showed him New York, lying across the Hudson river, the sky-scrapers towering above the water line, the various boats plying to and fro, and the great harbor.
"It's wonderful! Wonderful!" exclaimed the boy from the ranch. "It's different from what I expected. I never even dreamed New York was like this."
"Wait; you haven't begun to see it."
And, a little later, when they landed, and were crossing West street, with its congested traffic, Roy began to think his companion was right.
For a moment the noise and excitement confused the boy. There were two long lines of vehicles, mostly great trucks and drays, going up and down, for West street is on the water front, adjoining the docks where the steamships come in, and the wagons cart goods to and from them.
Then there was a big throng of people, hurrying to and from the ferries, several of which came in close together. The people all seemed in a rush, a trait, which Roy was soon to discover, affected nearly every one in New York. He saw policemen standing on the crossings, and, whenever the officer held up his hand, the travel of the vehicles stopped as if by magic, leaving a lane for pedestrians to cross.
"He's got them pretty well trained," observed Roy.
"Yes, he belongs to the traffic squad. Any driver who refused to do as the officer says, will be arrested. But come on. I want to take you to your hotel."
Trying to see everything at once, Roy followed his new friend. Suddenly, as he was in the midst of a press of wagons, men and women, in the middle of the street, he heard a cry:
"Runaway! Runaway! Horse is coming! Look out!"
Instantly the policeman began shoving people to one side, to get them out of the path of the runaway. Truck drivers began pulling their steeds to either curb. Roy looked down the street and saw a horse, attached to a cab, coming on at a gallop. Thanks to the prompt action of other drivers the runaway had a clear field.
"Look out!" shouted the officer. "Hey there, young man!" to Roy. "Git out of the street!"
But Roy had other intentions. He handed his valise to De Royster, who was vainly pulling him by the arm.
"Come on out of here!" cried De Royster. "You'll get run over."
"Take my satchel," said Roy.
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to stop that horse!"
"You'll be killed!"
"Say, I guess I know how to handle horses. It won't be the first one I've caught!"
Mortimer De Royster, giving one more look at the maddened animal, which was now close at hand, made a leap for the sidewalk. Roy looked up, gauged the distance, and, to his horror saw that the cab contained a lady and a little girl. There was no driver on the seat.
"Look out! You'll be killed!" shouted several in the crowd.
"The boy's crazy!" muttered the policeman He took a step forward, as if to drag Roy out of the way.
The next instant the boy had made a leap, just as the horse reached him. It was a leap to one side, but not to get out of the way. It was only to escape the flying hoofs, for, an instant later, Roy had the plunging horse by the bridle, and was hanging on for dear life.
CHAPTER XII
AT THE HOTEL
There were confused shouts from the crowd. Several men rushed forward, in spite of the efforts of the officer to hold them back. Women screamed, and several fainted.
The horse was rearing and kicking, but Roy, plucky lad that he was, held on like grim death.
With one hand firmly grasping the bridle, he reached up with the other, and clasped the nostrils of the horse in a tight grip. This served to prevent the horse from breathing well, and, as his lungs needed plenty of air, on account of his fast run, the animal probably concluded he had met his master.
"That's right! Hold him!" called a man. "I'll help you in a minute!"
"I guess I can manage him now," said Roy calmly. "There now, old fellow," he went on, speaking soothingly to the horse. The animal was having hard work to breathe. Roy saw this and loosened his hold slightly. Then he began to pat the horse, continuing to speak to it. The animal, which was more frightened than vicious, began to calm down.
"I've got him!" exclaimed the policeman, coming up and taking hold of the bridle.
"Oh, he's all right now; aren't you, old fellow?" spoke Roy, as he rubbed the horse's muzzle.
Indeed the animal did seem to be. His dangerous hoofs were still, and, though he trembled a bit, he was quieting down.
"That was a fine catch, my lad," remarked one man. "Where did you learn to stop runaway horses?"
"Out on my father's ranch in Colorado. This is nothing. We have a runaway every day out there. I've often caught 'em."
"Then the city ought to hire a few lads like you to give some of our policemen lessons," went on the man, with a meaning glance at the officer.
"Come now, move on. Don't collect a crowd," spoke the bluecoat gruffly. He was a little bit ashamed that he had not made an attempt to stop the horse, but it was due more to thoughtlessness than to actual fear. Besides, he first considered getting the women out of harm's way.
"It was a brave act," went on the man. "I'd like to shake hands with you, young man."
He extended his hand which Roy, blushing at the praise, accepted.
"Here, I want to get in on that," exclaimed another man, and soon as many as could crowd around Roy were shaking hands with him, while murmurs of admiration were heard on all sides.
Meanwhile the lady in the cab was being assisted out by a gentleman. Then she took her little girl in her arms. The child spoke, in a high clear voice, that could be heard above the noise of traffic, which had started up again, when it was seen that the runaway was stopped.
"Mother, is that the boy who caught the naughty horsie?"
"Yes, dear, mother wants to thank him."
"So do I, mother. And I want to kiss him for stopping the bad horsie that scared Mary."
There was a laugh at this, and Roy blushed deeper than ever.
"Come on," he said to Mortimer De Royster, who had made his way to his side. "Let's get out of this. Anybody would think I was giving a Wild-West exhibition."
"Well, that's pretty near what it was. I never saw a runaway better stopped, and I've seen some of our best policemen try it. You certainly know how to manage horses."
"Even if I don't know when I'm on a ferry boat," added Roy with a laugh. "But it would be a wonder if I didn't know something about cattle. I've been among 'em all my life."
"Excuse me, sir," spoke the lady who had been in the cab. "I want to thank you for what you did," and she extended her hand, encased in a neat glove.
Roy instinctively held out his hand, and then he drew it back. He noted that it was covered with foam and mud, where the horse had splashed it up on the bridle which he grasped. He had not noticed this when the men congratulated him. The lady saw his hesitation and exclaimed:
"What? You hesitate on account of not wanting to soil my gloves? There!" and before Roy could stop her she had grasped both his hands in her own, practically ruining her new gloves, for his left hand was more dirty than was his right. "What do I care for my gloves?" she exclaimed.
"Can't I kiss the nice boy, mother?" pleaded the little girl, whom her parent had placed on the crosswalk, close beside her.
There was another laugh, but Roy was not going to mind that. Though he had no brothers or sisters, he was very fond of children. The next instant he had stooped over and kissed the little girl.
Once more the crowd laughed, but in a friendly way, for Roy was a lad after the heart of every New Yorker—brave, fearless, yet kind.
"I can't begin to thank you," went on the lady. "But for you, Mary and I might have been killed."
"Oh, I guess the horse would have slowed up pretty soon, ma'am," replied Roy.
"Now don't make light of it," urged the lady. "I wish you would call at my home, and see us. My husband will want to add his thanks to mine. Here is our address."
She gave Roy a card on which was engraved the name, "Mrs. Jonathan Rynear," and the address was uptown in New York.
"The horse took fright when the cabman got down to get something for me in a store," she said, "and ran away before any one could stop him. I can drive horses, but I could not reach the reins of this one, and I dared not let go of my little girl. Now I want you to be sure and come. Will you?"
"Yes, ma'am," spoke Roy, and then, when Mrs. Rynear had shaken hands with him again, Roy managed to make his way through the crowd, and, accompanied by De Royster, he started up the street.
"Well, your entrance to New York is rather theatrical," observed Mortimer De Royster. "You'll get into the papers, first thing you know, really you will, my dear fellow."
"That's just where I don't want to get," said Roy quickly, as he thought that his mission might not be so well accomplished, if Mr. Annister read of the arrival in New York, of the son of the man whose agent he was. "How can it get in the papers?"
"Why, the reporters are all over New York. They'll hear of this in some way, or the policeman will tell them. Besides, the policeman has to report all such happenings on his post, and the reporters to go to the police station in search of news."
"But how will they know I did it?"
"That's so. I don't believe they will, old chap. You didn't give the lady your name."
"No, and I'm glad of it."
"Why; don't you want any one to know you're in New York?"
"Well, not right away. I have certain reasons for it. Later it may make no difference. But I guess the reporters are not liable to know it was me."
"No, perhaps not. The policeman may claim the credit of stopping the runaway. Some of 'em do, so as to get promotion more quickly."
"It wasn't much of a job to stop that runaway."
"Wasn't it? Well, it looked so to me, and I guess it did to the rest of the crowd. But you're all mud. The horse must have splashed you. However you'll soon be at your hotel. We'll take a train."
Still quite bewildered by the noise and confusion Roy followed De Royster up a flight of steps, not knowing where he was going. The next he knew was that his friend had dropped two tickets into the box of the elevated station, and they were waiting for an uptown train. Presently it came along, making the station and track rock and sway with the vibration.
"Come on," cried De Royster.
"Where are you going?" asked Roy, hanging back.
"On the elevated train, of course."
"It isn't safe!" exclaimed the boy from the ranch. "It is shaking now. It'll topple down! It needs bracing! Do you mean to tell me they run trains up in the air, on a track, and they don't fall off?"
"Of course. Come on. It's safe, even if it does shake a bit. It always does. There's no danger of it falling off. Next time we'll take the subway."
"All aboard! Step lively!" cried the guard at the gate, and Roy, with some misgivings, followed his friend.
The ride, on a level with the second-story windows of the buildings, was a great novelty to the boy from the ranch and he soon got over his feeling of nervousness in looking out at the strange sights on every hand.
"Here we are!" exclaimed De Royster at length. "I'll take you to the hotel."
They got out, walked down a flight of steps, and soon were in front of a good, though not showy hotel. In spite of the fact that it was not one of the most fashionable in New York, the magnificence of the entrance, with its rich hangings, the marble ornamentation, the electric lights and the stained glass, made Roy wonder if his friend had not made some mistake. It seemed more like the home of some millionaire, than a public hotel.
"Go ahead; I'll be right with you," called De Royster, as he showed Roy into the lobby. "I want to speak to a gentleman a moment."
Somewhat bewildered, Roy advanced into the middle of the lobby, with its marble floor. Though he was not aware of it, he made rather a queer figure, with his clothes of unstylish cut, his travel-stained appearance, the mud on his hands and garments, and his general air of being a stranger, totally unused to New York ways.
"Well, what do you want?" suddenly exclaimed the voice of a boy in a uniform that seemed to consist of nothing but brass buttons. "We don't allow peddlers in here!"
CHAPTER XIII
A VISIT TO MR. ANNISTER
Roy turned and looked at the boy who had made the somewhat insulting remark.
"I beg your pardon, stranger," he replied in his western drawl. "I didn't quite catch your remark."
"Aw, come off!" slangily replied the brass-buttoned boy, one of many in the hotel employed to show guests to their rooms whenever summoned by a bell rung by the clerk. "What are you, anyhow? Selling patent medicine or some Indian cure?" For Roy plainly showed the effect of his western life, his hair being a little longer than it is worn in the east, his clothes rather too large for him, and his broad-brimmed hat quite conspicuous.
"So you think I'm rustling medicine, eh?" he asked the boy.
"I don't know what you're 'rustling' but I know if you try to sell anything in this joint, you'll get the poke, see!"
Roy began to think the language of the East was almost as effective as that of the West in expressing ideas.
"I'm not selling medicine, stranger," Roy went on, using the term he had picked up among the cowboys when they meet one whom they do not know. "I'm going to put up at this bunk-house, I reckon."
"That's a good one!" exclaimed the boy with a laugh. "What Wild West show are you from? This is no theatrical boarding house. Better beat it out of here before the clerk sees you."
But the talk between the two boys had been overheard by the clerk, who, in a hotel, holds authority next to the owner.
"What's the trouble there, Number twenty-six?" he asked, addressing the bell boy.
"Aw, here's a guy what t'inks he's goin' to stay here an' sell patent medicines," replied the boy.
"What's that? Of course we don't allow any peddling schemes in the hotel. Send him out."
"I did, but he won't go."
"Your boy is mistaken, stranger," replied Roy, walking up to the desk, and looking around for Mortimer De Royster, who, it seemed, had been delayed in speaking to a friend. Several men in the hotel lobby drew near and listened with interest to what was going on. "I came here to put up at this hotel," went on Roy. "I was sent here by a friend of mine."
"We don't take theatrical people," said the clerk, stiffly.
"I'm not from a theatre. I tell you my friend sent me here. He'll be here himself in a minute."
The clerk did not look very much impressed, and Roy feared he was going to order him out of the hotel. The boy did not want to be thus publicly put to shame.
"Who's your friend?" asked the clerk.
"Mr. Mortimer De Royster."
"Oh, that's all right!" exclaimed the clerk with a great change of manner. "Any friend of Mr. De Royster is welcome. Boy, take the gentleman's grip. What sort of a room would you like?"
The bell boy, who had thought to put Roy out of the place, was obliged much against his will to take his valise.
"That's all right," said Roy good-naturedly to the boy. "I can carry my baggage. It isn't heavy. I don't know that I'm going to stop here after all. I think—"
Just then De Royster came pushing his way through the little crowd about the desk.
"Hello, Charlie!" he exclaimed, addressing the clerk. "How are you, old chap? Looking fine, upon my word!"
"Good afternoon, Mr. De Royster," replied the clerk cordially, extending his hand. "Glad to see you. So you're back from your trip?"
"Yes, but I came pretty near not coming. Might not be alive if it wasn't for my friend, Mr. Bradner, here. By the way, I want you to give him the best in the house. He's a great friend of mine. Treat him well."
"Of course we shall. We were just going to give him a good room—er—ahem, Mr. Bradner, will you please register?" and he swung the book around on the desk, dipping a pen in an ink bottle at the same time.
Roy hesitated, and smiled just a little. He was contrasting the treatment he might have received if Mr. De Royster had not been there.
"What's the matter?" asked the jewelry salesman, seeing that something unusual had taken place.
"Oh, nothing much," replied Roy. "They took me for a member of a Wild West show, I guess, and they were a little doubtful whether they'd let me bunk here or not."
"Ahem! All a mistake! It was the bell boy's fault," said the clerk, somewhat embarrassed.
"Here, Number twenty-six, take the gentleman's grip. Any friend of yours, Mr. De Royster, is doubly welcome here. We can give you a fine room, Mr. Bradner."
"All right," replied Roy, good naturedly. "I'll take one."
"I'll select it for you," put in Mr. De Royster, as he was in some doubt as to Roy's finances, and he did not want to take too extravagant an apartment.
Roy was soon shown to a pleasant room, Mortimer accompanying him. Every one connected with the hotel seemed anxious to aid the boy from the ranch, now that it was shown he had wealthy friends. Roy thought De Royster must be a person of some influence. He was partly right, though the influence came more from the rich and respected relatives of the young jewelry salesman, than from himself. However, it answered the same purpose.
"I am sorry you were annoyed by that clerk, my dear chap," said De Royster, when he was seated in the room he had selected for Roy. "I was unavoidably detained, speaking to a friend I met, don't you know."
"It's all right," replied Roy. "It all adds to my experience, and I expect to get a lot of it while I'm in the East."
"What are your next plans?"
"Well, I hardly know. I have certain business to do for my father, but I hardly know how to set about it."
"Perhaps I can tell you."
"I wish you could."
"If it is a secret don't tell me," said De Royster, noting that Roy hesitated.
"It is a sort of a secret mission. I'm here to round up a man, and see what sort of branding marks he has on him—that is, whether he's honest or not."
"That is a queer mission for a boy like you to be sent on."
"Perhaps, but my father had no one else. I will tell you as much as I can, and see what you have to say."
Thereupon Roy told his friend about the real estate matter, and Mr. Annister's connection with it, though he mentioned no names.
"Let me consider it a bit," said the dude, when Roy had finished. The latter began to think his friend was more capable than had at first appeared, and, in spite of his rather affected talk, could be relied upon for good advice.
"Here is what I would do, in your place," said De Royster, at length. "I would get my hair cut, order a new suit of clothes or perhaps two and appear as much as possible like a New Yorker, don't you know. You say you don't want that man to know you are here from the ranch. Well, he certainly would if you appeared before him as you are now. But, if you—er—well, we'll say 'spruce up' a bit, you can be sure he'll never connect you with the West. Then you can make whatever inquiries you like."
"That's good advice. I'll follow it. I'm much obliged to you."
"Don't mention it, my dear chap. Now, old man"—(Roy thought it was strange to be addressed as "old man")—"I've got to go. I'll leave you my card, and address, and, if you get into trouble, why, telephone or call on me. Now, good luck."
He shook hands with Roy and left. The boy from the ranch was a little lonesome after De Royster had gone, but he knew he would from now on, very probably have to rely on himself, and he decided to start in at once.
After supper he went to the hotel barber shop, and had his hair cut to the length it was worn by New Yorkers. He wanted to go out and get a new suit, but he knew the clothing stores would not be open at night.
His trunk arrived the next morning, and, having arranged his things in his room, the boy from the ranch set out to buy some new garments, following De Royster's advice.
"Well, I certainly don't look like a cowboy now," thought Roy, as he surveyed himself in the glass, after the change. "Now to call on Mr. Annister. I don't believe he'll suspect me of being on his trail."
A little later Roy was on his way down-town, having inquired from the clerk how to get to the office of the real estate agent. He was soon at the place, a big office building, in which several firms had their quarters.
He got in the express elevator, which went up at a speed that took away his breath, and was let out at the twentieth floor, where the real estate agent had his rooms.
"Is Mr. Annister in?" Roy asked the office boy.
"I don't know. What's your business?"
"My business is with Mr. Annister."
"What's your name?"
"That doesn't matter. Tell Mr. Annister I called to see him regarding the renting of some property on Bleecker street," for that was where the building was located in which Roy and his father were interested.
"All right. I'll tell him, but I don't believe he'll see you," replied the office boy, not very good-naturedly, as he went into an inner room. In a little while he returned and said:
"Walk in. He'll see you a few minutes, but he's very busy."
A few seconds later Roy stood in the presence of Caleb Annister.
CHAPTER XIV
ROY'S TRICK
"What can I do for you, sir?" asked the real estate agent as Roy entered. "Take a chair."
Caleb Annister had been a little curious to see the young man whom his office boy described. He could not imagine what was wanted, but he scented a possible customer to engage some of the offices in the structure, for which he collected the rents.
"I want to make some inquiries regarding an office in your Bleeker street building," said Roy, for such was the designation of the property in question.
"Ah, yes. You are going to open an office, perhaps?"
"I may." This was the truth as Roy's father had said, if the agent was found to be dishonest, a new one, with an office in the Bleecker street building might be engaged.
"Aren't you rather young to go in business?"
"Perhaps, but I am representing other persons. Have you any offices to rent in that building?"
"A few."
"What do they rent for?"
It was Roy's idea to make inquiries in the guise of a possible tenant, and, see what prices Mr. Annister was charging. What his next move was you shall very soon see.
"Well, young man, rents are very high in that building. It is in a good neighborhood, where property is increasing in value all the while, and we have to charge high rents. Besides there is a good demand for offices there."
This, Roy thought, was not the sort of information Mr. Annister had sent to Mr. Bradner at the ranch.
"Do you own the building?" asked the western lad, wanting to see what the agent would say.
"No, but I am in full charge. It would be no use for you to see the owner, as he leaves everything to me. He would not give you any lower rent rate than I would. Besides, he lives away out West, and never comes to New York."
"Can you give me an idea of what the rents are for such offices as are vacant?" asked Roy, trying not to let any Western expressions slip into his talk, as he wanted to pose as a New Yorker.
"Is it for yourself?"
"No, for parties I represent."
"I can give you a list of such offices as are vacant, with the prices, and you can go and see them. The janitor will show them to you, if I send him a note."
"That will do very well."
Caleb Annister went over some books, and soon handed Roy a list of room numbers, with the prices at which they rented by the month. It needed but a glance at the list, and a rapid calculation on the part of Roy, who was quick at figures, to see that if the entire building rented in the same proportion, the income from it was much larger than what his father was receiving. Clearly there was something wrong, and he must find out where it was.
"I shall look at these offices," he said, "and let you know whether or not they will suit my friend."
"What is the name?" asked Mr. Annister, preparing to write a note to the janitor.
Now Roy was "up against it" as he put it. He did not want to give his name, or Mr. Annister would suspect something at once, and, possibly, put some obstacles in his way. Nor did he want to tell an untruth, and give a false name. Finally he saw a way out of the difficulty.
He decided to give De Royster's name, as he had an idea that if Mr. Annister proved to be dishonest, as it seemed he was, the young jewelry salesman could be induced to take the agency of the building, at least until he had to begin his travels again. To do this De Royster would need an office in the building, so it would be no untruth for Roy to give his name, and say he was looking for apartments for him. He knew his friend would consent. So he said:
"You may make out the note in the name of Mortimer De Royster."
"De Royster? That is a good name. I know some of the family."
Mr. Annister wrote the note, and gave it to Roy, not asking his name. In fact, the real estate man took his caller to be an office boy for Mr. De Royster, for business men in New York frequently send their office helpers on errands of importance, and this was no more than the average office boy could do.
With the note Roy went to the Bleecker Building, as it was called. He found the janitor, who readily showed him the vacant offices.
"Aren't rents rather high here?" asked Roy.
"That's what they are. But this is a good location for business men, and they're willing to pay for it," answered the man.
"Have you no cheaper offices than these?"
"No. In fact all the others cost more. Some men have several rooms, and they pay a good price."
"How many offices, or sets of offices, have you in this building? I should think it would keep you busy looking after them."
"It does," replied the janitor, who, like others of his class, liked a chance to complain of how hard they worked. "There are more than a hundred offices in this building."
"And are most of them rented?"
"All but the five I showed you. I tell you the man who owns this building has a fine thing out of it. He must make a lot over his expenses."
"Who owns it?" asked Roy, wanting to see how much the janitor knew.
"I couldn't tell you. Mr. Annister never told me. He hires me. I guess he must have an interest in the property."
"Yes, entirely too much of an interest in it," thought Roy. "He has some of my interest, and I'm going to get it back."
There was one thing more he wanted to know.
"Are the tenants good pay?" he asked.
"They have to be, young man. If they get behind a month Mr. Annister puts them out. That's why those five offices are vacant. But they'll soon be rented. You'd better hurry if you want one."
"My friend will think it over," answered the boy from the ranch.
He had found out what he wanted to know. The property, instead of decreasing in value as Mr. Annister had said, was increasing. Nearly every office was rented at a good price, and the tenants were prompt pay, save in a few instances. It did not require much calculation to see that the income from the property was nearly double what Mr. Annister reported it to be to Mr. Bradner. That meant but one thing. The dishonest agent was keeping part of the rent for himself, and sending false reports to Roy's father.
But it was one thing to know this, and another to prove it. Roy left the building, thanking the janitor for his trouble, and started back toward Mr. Annister's office.
"I wonder what I had better do?" he thought.
CHAPTER XV
CALEB ANNISTER IS SURPRISED
Perhaps, if Mr. Bradner had known just the extent of the rascality of his agent, he might not have sent Roy to investigate. But, at the worst, he only imagined that perhaps the man might be careless in collecting the rents, which would account for the small income from the property.
Roy certainly had a difficult task before him, and he hardly knew how to undertake it. Should he confront Caleb Annister with the evidence of his dishonesty, or would it be better to wait a while? He had all the proof he needed; but what would be the outcome? That was what puzzled Roy.
Finally, with a decision characteristic of him, and following his nature, which was influenced by the openness of action associated with the West, he made up his mind.
"I'll go right back and see him," reasoned the boy, "tell him who I am, show him that I know he's been cheating us, and demand that he make good the money he has taken. Then I'll see how he acts. If he pays back the rent money he has retained I guess dad will not be hard on him. If he doesn't—"
Roy knew his father was a man who would have his rights if there was any way of getting them. He had half a notion to telegraph his father for instructions, but he wanted to do the work all alone, if he could.
When he got back to the office where Mr. Annister had his rooms, the boy in the outer apartment did not stop Roy to ask him his business. He at once announced him to the agent, who told Roy to come in. The boy from the ranch nerved himself for what was coming. He felt just as he used to when, for the first time, he mounted a new bucking bronco. There was no telling just what the animal would do. Likewise he did not know how Caleb Annister would act when he exposed his rascality.
"Well, did you see the offices?" asked the real estate man.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you like them? We think they are the best in New York."
"They are very fine. The rents are higher than I thought to find them."
"Perhaps, but you must know there is a good demand for offices in that neighborhood. I could have rented them several times, since they were vacant, but I wanted to get good tenants, who would pay."
"You have no cheaper offices you could let Mr. De Royster have?"
"None. In fact I am thinking of raising the rents of those."
Roy wondered if he and his father would get any of the increase.
"That property must be quite valuable," he went on.
"It is."
Roy now felt that the real estate agent had convicted himself. There was need of no further evidence. It was time to make the disclosure.
"Mr. Annister," said Roy. "Perhaps I had better introduce myself. Here is my card."
He handed over one on which he had written his name, and the address of his father's ranch, as well as that of the hotel where he was stopping.
For a moment the agent did not know what to do, as he looked at the bit of pasteboard. His face became pale, then red, then pale again. Next he smiled, in a sickly sort of way.
"So you are Roy Bradner, son of James Bradner, eh?" he asked, slowly.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, that's—that's a pretty good joke," went on the agent. "A pretty good joke."
Roy could not quite see it.
"You come East here, and pretend to want an office in the building your father owns, and you take me in completely. That is a good joke. But I see what you are after."
"That will save a lot of explanation then, Mr. Annister."
"I see what you want," the agent went on. "You wanted to find out in a quiet way, if I was properly looking after your father's property. So you come here, and don't let me know who you are. It's a good joke. But I guess you found I was looking after your interests; didn't you? You found me faithful to my trust. Now you can go back and tell your father that I am looking well after his affairs. That's what you can do. When are you going back?"
"I don't know!" exclaimed Roy boldly, "but when I do go back I will tell my father that you are a swindler, and that you are cheating him—and me also—out of our rent money."
"What's that?" cried Mr. Annister, his face fairly purple with rage. "You dare call me a swindler! I'll have you arrested for insulting me! Leave my office at once! How dare you address me in that manner?"
"I dare because I'm right," replied Roy coolly. "You can't bluff me, Mr. Annister. I see through your game. I now demand that you pay back all the money you have retained, or I shall make a complaint against you."
The bold and fearless bearing of the boy had its effect on the real estate agent. He saw he had to deal with a lad, who, if he had had no previous business experience, was capable of looking after his own interests.
"Perhaps you will kindly explain," said the agent, in a tone he meant to be sarcastic, but which did not deceive Roy.
"Certainly. I accuse you of charging high rents for the offices in the Bleecker Building, and with sending my father only about half of what you collect!"
"Oh! So that's the game; is it?" asked the agent, with a sneer. "Perhaps you know how much I take in as rent for the offices in that building?"
"I can pretty nearly figure it out," and Roy mentioned a sum that was so near the mark that Mr. Annister was startled.
"And perhaps you know what the expenses are, the taxes, the water rent, the insurance and so forth?"
"No, but I know what you charged my father for those items, and, taking them out, at your figures, and also your commission, it would leave a larger sum than we ever received."
Mr. Annister saw that he was dealing with no novice, even if the lad was from the western ranch. He resolved to proceed on a different plan.
"You may think yourself very smart," he said to Roy, "but you do not understand New York real estate."
"I understand enough for this case, I think."
"I'm afraid not," and the agent smiled. He was beginning to get command of his nerves. "You see there are many expenses you do not know of."
"You never mentioned them to my father."
"No, I could not. Besides, how do I know that your father sent you to make these inquiries? I do not even know you are Roy Bradner. You may be an impostor."
"I think I can soon prove to you who I am. As for my authority, there is a letter from my father to you, instructing you to turn this business over to me at my demand."
He handed Mr. Annister a letter to this effect written by Mr. Bradner, and properly executed before a notary public. The rascally agent knew the signature of Mr. Bradner only too well.
But he was not going to give up so easily.
"Any one can write a letter, and forge a signature," he said.
"Then you think I forged my father's name?" and a dangerous look came into Roy's eyes. It was a look such as that when he stopped the runaway horse.
"I don't care to have any further conversation with you," said Mr. Annister, sneeringly. "I do not recognize your authority. How do I know you are Roy Bradner? You will have to bring me better proof than this. Besides, even if you are who you say you are, that does not say you understand this renting business. It is very complicated. There are many charges I have to meet which makes the amounts received for rent much less than you have figured. Besides, the property is in bad shape, it needs repairs, and it is going down in value."
"You said a little while ago that it was increasing."
The agent started. He saw he had made a mistake.
"Oh, well," he said impatiently. "You are only a boy; you can't understand it."
"I may be only a boy, but I think I understand what is going on, and that is that you are cheating my father and me. I was in the building to-day. It is in excellent repair."
"Don't you dare accuse me of cheating!" exclaimed Mr. Annister, but his tone was not as blustering as it had been.
"I believe that is the truth."
"What do you intend to do?" inquired the agent, as he saw that Roy was firm. "Not that it makes any difference to me, for I shall communicate with your father, but I do not want you to come here and annoy me."
He was beginning to be afraid of what Roy might disclose.
"I intend to make you return the money you have unlawfully retained. I believe it is called embezzling, and is a criminal offense. But I will give you a little time. I shall call here a week from to-day. If, by that time, you do not have what I consider a proper sum ready to send to my father I shall consult with the police."
"Pooh! The police will never interfere. This is a civil matter—not criminal."
"I think it is criminal. But I will wait one week. In the meanwhile I shall write to my father and see what he advises me to do. But I shall report all the facts in the case."
"Get out of my office!" exclaimed the now angry and frightened real estate agent. "I believe you are an impostor. If you annoy me again I shall have you arrested!"
