Facing the World
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Horatio Alger >> Facing the World
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FACING THE WORLD
By
HORATIO ALGER, JR.
PREFACE
Horatio Alger, Jr., in "Facing the World," gives us as his hero a boy
whose parents have both died and the man appointed as his guardian is
unjust and unkind to him. In desperation he runs away and is very
fortunate in finding a true friend in a man who aids him and makes him
his helper in his work as magician.
They travel over the country and have many interesting experiences,
some narrow escapes and thrilling adventures.
CHAPTER I
HARRY RECEIVES A LETTER
"Here's a letter for you, Harry," said George Howard. "I was passing
the hotel on my way home from school when Abner Potts called out to me
from the piazza, and asked me to bring it."
The speaker was a bright, round-faced boy of ten. The boy whom he
addressed was five or six years older. Only a week previous he had
lost his father, and as the family consisted only of these two, he was
left, so far as near relatives were concerned, alone in the world.
Immediately after the funeral he had been invited home by Mr. Benjamin
Howard, a friend of his father, but in no manner connected with him by
ties of relationship.
"You can stay here as long as you like, Harry," said Mr. Howard,
kindly. "It will take you some time to form your plans, perhaps, and
George will be glad to have your company."
"Thank you, Mr. Howard," said Harry, gratefully.
"Shall you look for some employment here?"
"No; my father has a second cousin in Colebrook, named John Fox.
Before he died he advised me to write to Mr. Fox, and go to his house
if I should receive an invitation."
"I hope for your sake, he will prove a good man. What is his
business?"
"I don't know, nor did my father. All I know is, that he is considered
a prosperous man. This letter is from him."
It was inclosed in a brown envelope, and ran as follows:
"HARRY VANE: I have received your letter saying that your father wants
me to be your guardeen. I don't know as I have any objections, bein' a
business man it will come easy to me, and I think your father was wise
to seleck me. I am reddy to receave you any time. You will come to
Bolton on the cars. That is eight miles from here, and there is a
stage that meats the trane. It wouldn't do you any harm to walk, but
boys ain't so active as they were in my young days. The stage fare is
fifty cents, which I shall expect you to pay yourself, if you ride.
"There is one thing you don't say anything about--how much proparty
your pa left. I hope it is a good round sum, and I will take good care
of it for you. Ennybody round here will tell you that John Fox is a
good man of business, and about as sharp as most people. Mrs. Fox will
be glad to see you, and my boy, Joel, will be glad to have someone to
keep him company. He is about sixteen years old. You don't say how old
you are, but from your letter I surmise that you are as much as that.
You will find a happy united famerly, consistin' of me and my wife,
Joel and his sister, Sally. Sally is fourteen, just two years younger
than Joel. We live in a comfortable way, but we don't gorge ourselves
on rich, unhelthy food. No more at present. Yours to command,
"JOHN FOX."
Harry smiled more than once as he read this letter.
"Your relative isn't strong on spelling," remarked Mr. Howard, as he
laid the letter on the table.
"No, sir; but he appears to be strong on economy. It is a comfort to
know that I shall not be injured by 'rich, unhelthy food.'"
"When do you mean to start for Colebrook?" asked Mr. Howard.
"To-morrow morning. I have been looking at a railroad guide, and I
find it will bring me to Colebrook in time for supper."
"We should be glad to have you stay with us as long as possible,
Harry."
"Thank you, Mr. Howard, I don't doubt that, but the struggle of life
is before me, and I may as well enter upon it at once."
At four o'clock in the afternoon the conductor of the train on which
Harry was a passenger called out Bolton.
Harry snatched up his carpetbag, and made his way to the door, for
this was the place where he was to take the stage for Colebrook.
Two other passengers got out at the same time. One was an elderly man,
and the other a young man of twenty-five. They appeared to be father
and son, and, as Harry learned afterward they were engaged in farming,
"Any passengers for Colebrook?" inquired the driver of the
old-fashioned Concord stage, which was drawn up beside the platform.
"There's Obed and me," said the old farmer.
"May I ride on the seat with you?" asked Harry of the driver.
"Sartain. Where are you going?"
"To Colebrook."
"Then this is your team."
Harry climbed up with a boy's activity, and sat down on the broad
seat, congratulating himself that he would have a chance to see the
country, and breathe better air than those confined inside.
Soon the driver sat down on the box beside him, and started the
horses.
"You're a stranger, ain't you?" he remarked, with an inquisitive
glance at his young traveling companion.
"Yes; I've never been here before."
"Are you going to the tavern?"
"No; I'm going to the house of Mr. John Fox. Do you know him?"
"I reckon everybody round here knows John Fox."
"I don't know him. He is to be my guardian."
"Sho! You'll have a queer guardeen."
"Why queer?"
"The fact is, old John'll cheat you out of your eye teeth ef he gets a
chance. He's about the sharpest man round."
"He can't cheat me out of much," returned Harry, not especially
reassured by this remark. "What is the business of Mr. Fox?"
"Well, he's got some land, but he makes his livin' chiefly by tradin'
hosses, auctioneerin', and such like."
"What sort of a woman is Mrs. Fox?"
"She's a good match for the old man. She's about as mean as he is."
"Mr. Fox wrote me that he had two children."
"Yes, there's Joel--he's about your age. He's a chip of the old
block--red-headed and freckled, just like the old man. I don't believe
Joel ever spent a cent in his life. He hangs on to money as tight as
ef his life depended on it."
"There's a girl, too, isn't there?"
"Yes, Sally. She looks like her ma, except she's red-headed like her
pa."
"I'm glad to know something of the family, but I'm afraid I shan't
enjoy myself very much among the Foxes."
With such conversation Harry beguiled the way. On the whole, he
enjoyed the ride. There were hills and here and there the road ran
through the woods. He could hear the singing of birds, and,
notwithstanding what he had heard he felt in good spirits.
At length the stage entered the village of Colebrook. It was a village
of moderate size--about two hundred houses being scattered over a
tract half a mile square. Occupying a central position was the tavern,
a square, two-story building, with a piazza in front, on which was
congregated a number of villagers. After rapidly scanning them, the
driver said:
"Do you see that tall man over there leanin' against a post?"
"Yes."
"That's your guardeen! That's John Fox himself, as large as life, and
just about as homely."
CHAPTER II
THE DANGER SIGNAL
The man pointed out to Harry as his guardian was tall, loosely put
together, with a sharp, thin visage surrounded by a thicket of
dull-red hair. He came forward as Harry jumped to the ground after
descending from the elevated perch, and said: "I reckon this is Harry
Vane?"
"That is my name, sir."
"Glad to see you. Just take your traps, and come along with me.
Mrs. Fox will have supper ready by the time we come."
Harry was not, on the whole, attracted by the appearance of his
guardian. There was a crafty look about the eyes of Mr. Fox which
seemed to make his name appropriate. He surveyed his young ward
critically.
"You're pretty well grown," he said.
"Yes, sir."
"And look stout and strong."
"I believe I am both."
"My boy, Joel, is as tall as you, but not so hefty. He's goin' to be
tall like me. He's a sharp boy--Joel."
"By the way, you didn't write how much property your father left."
"After the funeral bills are paid, I presume there'll be only about
three hundred dollars left."
Mr. Fox stopped short and whistled.
"Father hadn't much talent at making money," said Harry, soberly.
"I should say not. Why, that money won't last you no time at all."
"I am old enough to work for a living. Isn't there something I can
find to do in Colebrook?"
"I guess I can give you work myself--There's always more or less to do
'round a place. I keep a man part of the time, but I reckon I can let
him go and take you on instead. You see, that will count on your
board, and you don't want to spend your money too fast."
"Very well, sir. There's only one thing I will stipulate; I will wait
a day or two before going to work. I want to look about the place a
little."
While this conversation was going on, they had traveled a considerable
distance. A little distance ahead appeared a square house, painted
yellow, with a barn a little back on the left, and two old wagons
alongside.
"That's my house," said John Fox. "There's Joel."
Joel, a tall boy in figure, like his father, came forward and eyed
Harry with sharp curiosity.
"How are ye?" said Joel, extending a red hand, covered with warts.
"Pretty well, thank you," said Harry, not much attracted to his new
acquaintance.
"Here's Sally, too!" said John Fox. "Sally, this is my ward, Harry
Vane."
Sally, who bore a striking family resemblance to her father and
brother, giggled.
Mrs. Fox, to whom Harry was introduced at the supper table, was as
peculiar in her appearance and as destitute of beauty as the rest of
the family.
The next day, Harry, feeling it must be confessed, rather homesick,
declined Joel's company, and took an extended stroll about the town.
He found that though the railway by which he had come was eight miles
distant, there was another, passing within a mile of the village. He
struck upon it, and before proceeding far made a startling discovery.
There had been some heavy rains, which had washed out the road for a
considerable distance, causing the track to give way.
"Good heavens!" thought Harry, "if a train comes over the road before
this is mended, there'll be a wreck and loss of life. What can I do?"
Just across the field stood a small house. In the yard the week's
washing was hung out. Among the articles was a red tablecloth.
"May I borrow that tablecloth?" asked Harry, in excitement, of a woman
in the doorway.
"Land sakes! what for?" she asked.
"To signal the train. The road's washed away."
"Yes, yes; I'm expectin' my darter on that train," answered the woman,
now as excited as our hero. "Hurry up! the train's due in fifteen
minutes."
Seizing the tablecloth, Harry gathered it quickly into a bundle and
ran back to the railroad. He hurried down the track west of a curve
which was a few hundred feet beyond the washout, and saw the train
coming at full speed. He jumped on a fence skirting the tracks, and
waved the tablecloth wildly.
"Will they see it?" he asked himself, anxiously.
It was an anxious moment for Harry as he stood waving the danger
signal, uncertain whether it would attract the attention of the
engineer. It did! The engineer, though not understanding the meaning
of the signal, not knowing indeed, but it might be a boy's freak,
prudently heeded it, and reversing the engine, stopped the train a
short distance of the place of danger.
"Thank God!" exclaimed Harry, breathing a deep sigh of relief.
The engineer alighted from the train, and when he looked ahead, needed
no explanation.
"My boy!" he said, with a shudder, "you have saved the train."
"I am glad of it, sir. My heart was in my mouth, lest you should not
see my signal."
By this time the passengers, whose curiosity had been roused by the
sudden halt, began to pour out of the cars.
When they saw the washout, strong men turned pale, and ladies grew
faint, while many a fervent ejaculation of gratitude was heard at the
wonderful escape.
"We owe our lives to this boy!" said the engineer. "It was he who
stood on the fence and signaled me. We owe our deliverance to
this--tablecloth."
A small man, somewhat portly, pushed his way up to Harry.
"What is your name, my lad?" he asked, brusquely.
"Harry Vane."
"I am the president and leading stockholder of the road, and my
property has come very near being the death of me. Gentlemen"--here
the president turned to the group of gentlemen around him--"don't you
think this boy deserves a testimonial?"
"Yes, yes!" returned the gentlemen, in chorus.
"So do I, and I lead off with a subscription of twenty dollars."
One after another followed the president's lead, the president himself
making the rounds bareheaded, and gathering the contributions in his
hat.
"Oh, sir!" said Harry, as soon as he understood what was going
forward, "don't reward me for what was only my duty. I should be
ashamed to accept anything for the little I have done."
"You may count it little to save the lives of a train full of people,"
said the president, dryly, "but we set a slight value upon our lives
and limbs. Are you rich?"
"No, sir."
"So I thought. Well, you needn't be ashamed to accept a little
testimonial of our gratitude. You must not refuse."
When all so disposed had contributed, the president gathered the bills
from the hat and handed the pile to Harry.
"Take them, my boy," he said, "and make good use of them. I shall owe
you a considerable balance, for I value my life at more than twenty
dollars. Here is my card. If you ever need a friend, or a service,
call on me."
Then the president gave directions to the engineer to run back to the
preceding station, where there was a telegraph office, from which
messages could be sent in both directions to warn trains of the
washout.
Harry was left with his hands full of money, hardly knowing whether he
was awake or dreaming.
One thing seemed to him only fair--to give the owner of the tablecloth
some small share of the money, as an acknowledgment for the use of her
property.
"Here, Madam," said Harry, when he had retraced his steps to the
house, "is your tablecloth, for which I am much obliged. It saved the
train."
"Well, I'm thankful! Little did I ever think a tablecloth would do so
much good. Why, it only cost me a dollar and a quarter."
"Allow me to ask your acceptance of this bill to pay you for the use
of it."
"Land sakes! why, you've given me ten dollars!"
"It's all right. It came from the passengers. They gave me something
too."
"You didn't tell me your name."
"My name is Harry Vane."
"Do you live round here? I never heerd the name afore."
"I've just come to the village. I'm going to live with John Fox."
"You don't say! Be you any kin to Fox?"
"Not very near. He's my guardian."
"If he hears you've had any money give you, he'll want to take care of
it for you."
This consideration had not occurred to Harry. Indeed, he had for so
short a time been the possessor of the money, of which he did not know
the amount, that this was not surprising.
"Well, good-morning!" he said.
"Good-morning! It's been a lucky mornin' for both of us."
"I must go somewhere where I can count this money unobserved," he said
to himself.
Not far away he saw a ruined shed.
Harry entered the shed, and sitting down on a log, took out the bills,
which he had hurriedly stuffed in his pocket, and began to count them.
"Almost three hundred dollars!" murmured Harry, joyously. "It has
been, indeed, a lucky morning for me. It has nearly doubled my
property."
The question arose in his mind: "Should he give this money to Mr. Fox
to keep for him?"
"No," he decided, "I won't give him this money. I won't even let him
know I have it." Where, then, could he conceal it? Looking about him,
he noticed a little, leather-covered, black trunk, not more than a
foot long, and six inches deep. It was locked, but a small key was in
the lock.
Opening the trunk he found it empty. The lock seemed in good
condition. He made a pile of the bills, and depositing them in this
receptacle, locked the trunk and put the key in his pocket.
Now for a place of concealment.
Harry came out of the shed, and looked scrutinizingly around him. Not
far away was a sharp elevation surmounted by trees. The hill was a
gravelly formation, and therefore dry. At one point near a withered
tree, our hero detected a cavity, made either by accident or design.
Its location near the tree made it easy to discover.
With a little labor he enlarged and deepened the hole, till he could
easily store away the box in its recess, then covered it up carefully,
and strewed grass and leaves over all to hide the traces of
excavation.
"There that will do," he said, in a tone of satisfaction.
He had reserved for possible need fifteen dollars in small bills,
which he put into his pocketbook.
John Fox had heard the news in the post office, and started off at
once for the scene of danger.
"How'd they hear of the washout?" he asked, puzzled.
"I heerd that a boy discovered it, and signaled the train," said his
neighbor.
"How did he do it?"
"Waved a shawl or somethin'."
"That don't seem likely; where would a boy find a shawl?"
His informant looked puzzled.
"Like as not he borrowed it of Mrs. Brock," he suggested.
Mrs. Brock was the woman living in the small house near by, so that
the speaker's surmise was correct. It struck John Fox as possible, and
he said so.
"I guess I'll go and ask the Widder Brock," he said. "She must have
seen the train, livin' so near as she does."
"I'll go along with you."
The two men soon found themselves on Mrs. Brock's premises.
"Good-mornin,' Mrs. Brock," said John Fox.
"You've come nigh havin' a causality here."
"You're right there, Mr. Fox," answered Mrs. Brock. "I was awful
skeered about it, for I thought my Nancy might be on the train. When
the boy run into my yard----"
"The boy! What boy?" asked Fox, eagerly.
"It was that boy you are guardeen of."
"What, Harry Vane?" ejaculated Fox, in genuine surprise.
"Tell me all about it, Mrs. Brock."
"Well, you see, he ran into my yard all out of breath, and grabbin' a
red tablecloth from the line, asked me if I would lend it to him.
'Land sakes!' says I, 'what do you want of a tablecloth?'"
"'The track's washed away,' he said, 'and I want to signal the train.
There's danger of an accident.' Of course, I let him have it, and he
did signal the train, standin' on the fence, and wavin' the
tablecloth. So the train was saved!"
"And did he bring back the tablecloth?"
"Of course, he did, and that wasn't all. He brought me a ten-dollar
bill to pay for the use of it."
"Gave you a ten-dollar bill!" exclaimed John Fox, in amazement. "That
was very wrong."
"You hadn't no claim on the money if you are his guardeen. A
collection was took up by the passengers, and given to the boy, and he
thought I ought to have pay for use of the tablecloth, so he gave me a
ten-dollar bill--and a little gentleman he is, too."
"A collection taken up for my ward?" repeated Fox, pricking up his
ears. "Well, well! that is news."
John Fox was already on his way back to the road. He was anxious to
find his ward.
CHAPTER III
HARRY DISAGREES WITH HIS GUARDIAN
Harry and his guardian met at the dinner table. Mrs. Fox had provided
a boiled dinner, to which Harry was ready to do justice.
Mr. Fox seemed unusually pleasant.
"I find, Harry," he said, clearing his throat, "that you have already
been distinguishing yourself."
"Then you heard of the narrow escape of the train?" said Harry.
"Yes, I heard that but for your presence of mind, and Mrs. Brock's
tablecloth, there would have been a smash-up."
"What on earth are you talkin' about, John Fox?" demanded his wife,
curiously.
"Well, you see, Maria, the rain of last night washed away part of the
railroad track, and the train would have been plunged into a gully if
our young boarder here hadn't seen the danger, and, borrowin' a
tablecloth from Mrs. Brock, signaled the train."
"You don't say?"
"That isn't all," resumed John Fox. "The passengers took up a
contribution, and I expect gave quite a handsome sum to our young
friend."
"How much did the folks give you?" asked Joel eagerly.
"I've got fifteen dollars left," he replied. "I gave some money to
Mrs. Brock for the use of the tablecloth."
John Fox looked disappointed and disgusted.
"You don't mean to say," he ejaculated, sharply, "that you gave away
almost half of your money for the use of an old tablecloth that would
be dear at a dollar?"
"If I hadn't had the tablecloth, I couldn't have attracted the
engineer's attention," said Harry, mildly.
There was a little more conversation on the subject, but Harry
remained tranquil, and did not appear disturbed by the criticisms
elicited by his conduct. He heartily hoped that his guardian's family
would not find out how large a sum he had received.
When dinner was over, Harry was about to leave the house, when John
Fox said, insinuatingly: "Don't you think you'd better give me that
money to keep for you? It will be safer in my hands."
"Thank you, Mr. Fox," said Harry, "but I think I can take care of it
myself."
"Fifteen dollars is a good deal of money for a boy like you to carry
round with you," said his guardian.
"I don't think I shall lose it, sir," replied the boy.
"Perhaps not, but you will be tempted to spend it wastefully."
John Fox didn't look amiable. He was in doubt whether he might not
properly take from his ward the money by force, but it occurred to him
that it would be better not to assert his authority quite so soon.
"We will speak of this again," he said.
"It is well I didn't bring all the money home. I wonder how soon
Mr. Fox will make another attempt to secure the sum I have with me,"
thought Harry.
The attempt was made that same night.
Harry was afraid he would be expected to occupy the same room with
Joel, in which case he could hope for no privacy, and would be unable
to conceal his money, which he had little doubt his guardian intended
to secure, either by fair means or foul. It chanced, however, that
Joel slept in a small bedroom opening out of his parents' chamber. So
Harry was assigned an attic room, in the end of the house, the sides
sloping down to the eaves. It was inferior to the chambers on the
second floor, but our hero was not disposed to complain. He valued
solitude more than superior finish.
Harry's suspicion was roused by the circumstance that his guardian did
not again refer to his money, nor did he manifest any disappointment
at his ward's declining to intrust him with it.
During the evening, Joel brought out a backgammon board, and proposed
to Harry to play. If there would have been anything to read Harry
would have preferred entertaining himself in that way, but Mr. Fox
didn't appear to be literary. There were a few books in the house, but
they were not of an attractive character.
Partly in backgammon, partly in conversation with the son and heir of
the Foxes, the time passed till half-past eight o'clock.
"Joel, you can go to bed," said his mother. "It is half-past eight."
Joel yawned, and interposed no objection.
"You may as well go, too, Harry," said Mrs. Fox.
"I am ready to go to bed," said Harry.
In fact, he felt rather sleepy, and anticipated little pleasure in
sitting up in the far from exciting company of Mr. and Mrs. Fox.
"Joel!" said his mother, "take this candle and show Harry upstairs in
the attic chamber."
"Yes, mam."
So, preceded by Joel, Harry went up two flights of stairs to the attic
room reserved for him. It was the only room that had been finished
off, and the garret outside looked dark and forbidding.
"I would be scared to sleep up here," said his companion.
"I shall not be at all frightened, Joel," said Harry.
"Good-night. Just hold the candle while I go downstairs."
When he was fairly all alone, Harry began to look about him, to
ascertain in what kind of quarters he was to pass the night. To begin
with he examined the door, he ascertained that it was a common latch
door, and there was no lock. There was nothing to prevent anyone
entering the room during the night. There was a small cot bed in one
corner, a chair, and an old wooden chest. There was no bureau nor
washstand. The absence of the latter annoyed Harry.
He learned afterward that he was expected to go downstairs and wash in
a large basin in the kitchen sink--wiping his face on a brown, roll
towel which was used by the entire family. This was quite
unsatisfactory to Harry, who was scrupulously neat in his tastes.
"This isn't a palace exactly," Harry said to himself.
Then came the thought, "What was he to do with his money?"
Now, it so happened that Harry was the possessor of two
pocketbooks--one--shabby, and well worn, which he had failed to throw
away on buying another just before he left home. In connection with
this, a scheme for outwitting Mr. Fox came into his mind. He folded up
a fragment of newspaper, and put it into the old pocketbook, bulging
it out till it looked well filled, and this he left in the pocket of
his pantaloons.
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