Bob Chester's Grit; Or, From Ranch to Riches — John Shaqi
Bob Chester's Grit; Or, From Ranch to RichesWebster, Frank V.
General
Bob Chester's Grit; Or, From Ranch to Riches
Webster, Frank V.
Ranch life -- Juvenile fiction
"To deliver an order to one of my guardian's customers."
"Are you honest?"
"I hope so, sir," replied Bob, his face expressing surprise that his
probity should be questioned.
The man who had hailed Bob Chester appeared to be about twenty-five
years old, and his clothes were well-fitting, giving him the air of a
man of means. With him were two other men; one of whom, several years
older, was also well dressed. The third member of the group was entirely
different from the others. His clothes were grotesque, and bore every
trace of having been purchased in some country store. His derby hat was
green-black, and apparently a size too small, judging from the manner in
which it rested on his head. Had not his appearance bespoken that he was
a stranger come from the country to see the sights of New York, his
face, sunburned and honest, would have proclaimed him as one
unaccustomed and unfamiliar with the wiles of a great city.
Prior to his having been addressed, the boy who had given his name as
Bob Chester had noticed the difference between the three men as they
stood in earnest conversation on the sidewalk, and instinctively he had
been attracted by the frankness of the countryman's face. He had been
wondering why the two New Yorkers were so interested in the other man,
but the unexpectedness of his being accosted had driven all thought from
his mind, and he had given his answers as though compelled by the
searching glance the younger of the two men had directed at him.
All three watched him intently, and as he made his answer that he hoped
he was honest, the elder of the New Yorkers exclaimed:
"I think he will do, Harry."
"Well, if you say so, all right," returned the other, and then turning
to Bob, he asked:
"Would your guardian object seriously if you did not deliver your order
for about half an hour?"
"I don't know. Saturday is always a busy day at the store, and Mr.
Dardus always scolds me if I don't get right back. It doesn't make any
difference to him how far I have to go, he always thinks I should be
back within fifteen minutes after I have started. So I'd rather not
delay--because I don't like to be scolded," added the boy, as though by
way of apologizing for his refusal.
"Well, if we gave you a dollar, don't you think you could stand the old
man's scolding, if you were half an hour late?" asked the elder of the
New Yorkers, at the same time putting his hand in his pocket and drawing
forth a large roll of bills, which he opened ostentatiously. The figures
were so large that Bob's eyes seemed as though they would pop out of his
head, so eagerly did they scan them. The man extracted a dollar bill.
The sight of so much money in the possession of one man fairly
hypnotized the boy, and he replied:
"Do you mean you will give me a whole dollar if I will wait here half an
hour?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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