A Boy's Fortune; Or, The Strange Adventures of Ben BakerAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
A Boy's Fortune; Or, The Strange Adventures of Ben Baker
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Adventure and adventurers -- Juvenile fiction; Fortune -- Juvenile fiction
"The boy is discharged," said the officer. He added, sharply:
"Officer Flynn, I expect the truth from you in future. The boy
you have arrested is much more respectable in appearance than his
accuser, and, under the circumstances, I cannot attach any credit to
your charge against him. Be more careful in future."
With sullen reluctance, the officer, who is a type of a considerable
number on the force, but not of all, released Ben.
Our hero walked up to the gentleman whose testimony had been of so
much value to him, and warmly thanked him.
"I was in a bad scrape," he said, "and I don't know how I would have
come out of it if you had not spoken for me."
"I chanced to see you in charge, and followed as soon as I could,"
said Mr. Woodbury. "What luck are you meeting with in New York, Ben?"
"Not much, yet; but don't say anything to mother about your meeting
me here, or she may be worried. I shall make every effort to get
something to do here. If I can't, I may be obliged to go home."
"Well, Ben, I wish you good luck. I must now leave you, as I have
several business calls to make."
Ben emerged from the station-house feeling that he had made a lucky
escape. The boys who had followed him (Mike and his friends) had
vanished, on finding that things did not turn out as they expected,
fearing that they might get into trouble themselves.
"I see," said Ben to himself, "that I must keep my eyes wide open in
New York. I used to think that an innocent person need not fear the
police, but I don't find it exactly so."
He strolled back to Broadway, and mingled once more with the busy
crowds. The same thought came to him, as to so many in his position,
"Everybody seems to have something to do except me. Why am I alone
idle?"
When Ben reached the Metropolitan Hotel he paused for a moment at
the entrance. As he stood there a gentleman passed out hurriedly.
As his eyes fell upon Ben his face lighted up, and a sudden plan
presented itself to his mind.
"Boy," he said, "do you live in New York?"
"I expect to, if I can find anything to do."
"Where do you come from?"
"Sunderland."
"Where is that?"
"In Connecticut."
"How far away is it?"
"About forty miles."
"What relatives have you living?"
"A mother and sister in the country."
As the gentleman did not inquire whether he had relatives in New
York, Ben did not see fit to volunteer information, particularly as
he did not care to claim relationship with an uncle and cousin who
were evidently ashamed of him.
"You are in search of a position, are you?" asked the gentleman.
"Yes, sir."
"And you are not particular what you do?"
"No, sir, as long as it is honest."
"Yes, I think he will do," soliloquized the gentleman, regarding
Ben intently. "He is the same size and shape, and has a similar
expression. It will be easy to mistake him for Philip."
Ben only caught part of this soliloquy, and of course he did not
understand it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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