Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune, Jr. Horatio Alger [good books for high schoolers .txt] 📗
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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One evening about this time Edward Granger, who still occupied the small apartment adjoining, came into Chester’s room, looking agitated.
“What is the matter?” asked Chester. “Have you had bad news?”
“Yes; I have had a letter from Mr. Wilson, of Portland, whom you recollect we met about a year ago.”
“I remember him.”
“I will read you his letter. You will see that I have reason to feel anxious.”
The letter ran as follows:
“Dear Edward: I promised to send you any news I might pick up about your mother and her promising husband. Trimble is indulging in liquor more than ever, and I don’t see how he can stand it unless he has a cast iron constitution. From what I hear he has never given up trying to get your mother’s property into his hands. She has held out pretty firm, but she may yield yet. I hear that he is circulating reports that you are dead. In that case he thinks she may be induced to make a will leaving her property to Mr. Trimble; having, as I believe, no near relatives, so that he would seem to be the natural heir.
“I may be doing Trimble an injustice, but I think if such a will were made she wouldn’t live long. Your stepfather is in great straits for money, it seems, and he might be tempted to do something desperate. As far as I can hear, Abner Trimble’s plan is this: He took a pal of his around to the house who had been in New York recently, and the latter gave a circumstantial account of your dying with typhoid fever. Evidently your mother believed it, for she seemed quite broken down and has aged considerably since the news. No doubt her husband will seize this opportunity to induce her to make a will in his favor. Here lies the danger; and I think I ought to warn you of it, for your presence here is needed to defeat your stepfather’s wicked plans. Come out at once, if you can.
“Your friend,
“Nathaniel Wilson.”
“What do you think of that, Chester?” asked Edward, in a troubled voice.
“I think it very important. Your mother’s life and your interests both are in peril.”
“And the worst of it is that I am helpless,” said Edward, sadly. “I ought to go out there, but you know how small my salary is. It has required the utmost economy to live, and I haven’t as much as five dollars saved up. How can I make such a long and costly journey?”
“I see the difficulty, Edward, but I need time to think it over. To-morrow afternoon come in and I may have some advice to give you.”
“I know that you will advise me for the best, Chester.”
“There is a good deal in age and experience,” said Chester, smiling.
When Edward left the room Chester took from his pocket a letter received the day previous, and postmarked Tacoma. It was to this effect:
“Mr. Chester Rand.
“Dear Sir: We learn that you own five lots on Main Street, numbered from 201 to 205. We have inquiries as to three of those lots as a location for a new hotel, which it is proposed to erect at an early date. We are, therefore, led to ask whether you are disposed to sell, and, if so, on what terms. We should be glad to have a personal interview with you, but if it is impracticable or inconvenient for you to come on to Tacoma we will undertake, as your agents, to carry on the negotiations.
“Yours respectfully,
“Dean & Downie,
“Real Estate Agents.”
“Why shouldn’t I go to Tacoma?” thought Chester. “I can probably sell the lots to better advantage than any agents, and should be entirely unable to fix upon a suitable price unless I am on the ground. In case I go on, I can take Edward with me, and trust to him to repay the money advanced at some future time.”
The more Chester thought of this plan the more favorable it struck him.
He went the next day to the office of The Phœnix, and after delivering his sketches, said: “I should like leave of absence for two months. Can you spare me?”
“Does your health require it, Mr. Rand?” asked the editor.
“No,” answered Chester, “but I own a little property in Tacoma, and there are parties out there who wish to buy. It is important that I should go out there to attend to the matter.”
The editor arched his brows in astonishment.
“What!” he said. “An artist, and own real estate? This is truly surprising.”
“I didn’t earn it by my art,” replied Chester, smiling. “It was a bequest.”
“That accounts for it. I suppose, under the circumstances, we must let you go; but why need you give up your work? Probably ideas and suggestions may come to you while you are traveling. These you can send to us by mail.”
“But I can’t do enough to earn the salary you pay me.”
“Then we will pay according to the amount you do.”
“That will be satisfactory.”
“Do you need an advance for the expenses of your journey?”
“No; I have some money laid by.”
“Another surprise! When do you want to start?”
“As soon as possible. I will not come to the office again.”
“Then good luck and a pleasant journey.”
When Edward Granger came into his room later in the day, Chester said: “Day after to-morrow we start for Oregon. Ask your employers to hold your place for you, and get ready at once.”
“But the money, Chester?” gasped Edward.
“I will advance it to you, and you shall repay me when you can.”
CHAPTER XXXV.
PREPARING FOR THE JOURNEY.
No sooner had Chester decided upon his Western journey than he telegraphed to Dean & Downie, of Tacoma:
“I will call upon you within two weeks.”
Mrs. Rand was much surprised when Chester, coming home unexpectedly, announced his intentions.
“Do you want me to take you with me, mother?” asked Chester, with a smile.
“I am afraid I could not help you much. But you are not used to traveling. You may take the wrong cars.”
Again Chester smiled.
“I have spent over a year in the city, mother,” he said. “I have got along pretty well in the last twelve months, haven’t I?”
“Yes; but suppose you were to fall sick, with no one to look after you?”
“I didn’t tell you that I am going to have company. Edward Granger, who was born in Oregon, and is three years older than myself, will go with me.”
“Then I shall feel easier. He knows the way, and can look after you.”
Chester was secretly of opinion that he was more competent to look after Edward, but did not say so. He saw that his mother was easier in mind, and this relieved him.
Before he started from New York he called to see Mr. Fairchild. On Fourteenth Street he fell in with Felix Gordon.
“How are you getting along, Felix?” he asked.
“Pretty well. Mr. Fairchild has raised me to six dollars a week.”
“I am glad of it. That shows he is satisfied with you.”
“I try to please him. I began to think that is the best policy. That is why you have succeeded so well.”
“Do you ever hear from Mr. Mullins?”
“No; but I know where he is.”
“Where? Of course you know that I have no wish to injure him.”
“He is somewhere in Oregon, or perhaps in Washington Territory.”
Washington had not at that time been advanced to the dignity of a State.
“That is curious.”
“Why is it curious?”
“Because I am going to start for Oregon and Washington to-night.”
“You don’t mean it! What are you going for?”
“On business,” answered Chester, not caring to make a confidant of Felix.
“Won’t it cost a good deal of money?”
“Yes; but I expect to get paid for going.”
“What a lucky fellow you are!” said Felix, not without a trace of envy. “I wish I could go. I like to travel, but I have never had a chance.”
Mr. Fairchild was equally surprised when told of Chester’s plans.
“Are you going as an artist?” he asked.
“No; as a real estate man,” answered Chester. “I own a few lots in Tacoma, and have a chance of selling a part of them.”
Then he went into particulars.
“I congratulate you. I have only one piece of advice to offer. Make careful inquiries as to the value of property. Then ask a fair price, not one that is exorbitant. That might drive the hotel people to seeking another site for their house.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fairchild; I will remember your advice.”
“The journey is an expensive one. If you need two or three hundred dollars I will loan it to you cheerfully.”
“Thank you very much, but I have more money saved up than I shall require.”
“I see you are careful and provident. Well, Chester, I wish you every success.”
“I am sure of that, Mr. Fairchild. By the way, I hear that your old bookkeeper is in Oregon or Washington.”
“Who told you?”
“Felix. Have you any message for him if I happen to meet him?”
“Say that I have no intention of prosecuting him. If he is ever able I shall be glad to have him return the money he took from me. As to punishment, I am sure he has been punished enough by his enforced flight and sense of wrongdoing.”
CHAPTER XXXVI.
A GREAT SURPRISE.
From New York to Tacoma is a long journey. Over three thousand miles must be traversed by rail, but the trip is far from tiresome. Chester and his companion thoroughly enjoyed it. All was new and strange, and the broad spaces through which they passed were full of interest.
They stopped at Niagara Falls, but only for a few hours, and spent a day in Chicago. Then they were whirled onward to St. Paul and Minneapolis, and later on over the broad plains of North Dakota and through the mountains of Montana.
“I never thought the country was so large before,” said Chester to Edward. “You have been over the ground once before.”
“Yes; but part of it was during the night, It is pleasant to see it once more. Many of the places have grown considerably, though it is only two years since I came from Portland.”
Chester made some agreeable acquaintances. An unsociable traveler misses many of the profitable results of his journey, besides finding time hang heavily on his hands.
Just after leaving Bismarck, in North Dakota, Chester’s attention was called to an old man, whose white hair and wrinkled face indicated that he had passed the age of seventy years.
The conductor came through the car, collecting tickets. The old man searched for his, and an expression of dismay overspread his face.
“I can’t find my ticket,” he said.
“That is unfortunate. Where did you come from?”
“From Buffalo.”
“When did you last see your ticket?”
“I stopped over one night in Bismarck, and had to share my room with a young man, for the hotel was crowded. I think he must have picked my pocket of the ticket.”
“Did you know the ticket was missing when you boarded the train?”
“No, sir. I did not think to look.”
“Your case is unfortunate. How far are you going?”
“To Tacoma. I have a son there.”
“I am afraid you will have to pay the fare from here. I have no discretion in the matter, and cannot allow you to ride without a ticket.”
“Don’t you believe my ticket was stolen?” asked the old man, in a state of nervous agitation.
“Yes, I believe it. I don’t think a man of your age would deceive me. But I cannot let you travel without paying for another.”
“I haven’t money enough,” said the old man, piteously. “If you will wait till I reach Tacoma my son will give me money to pay you.”
“I am not allowed to do that. I think you will have to get out at the next station.”
The old man was much agitated.
“It is very hard,” he sighed. “I—I don’t know what to do.”
Chester had listened to this conversation with great sympathy for the unfortunate traveler, on account of his age and apparent helplessness.
“How much is the fare to Tacoma from
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