Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's ExperienceAlger, Horatio, Jr.
General
Driven from Home; Or, Carl Crawford's Experience
Alger, Horatio, Jr.
Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Didactic fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Juvenile fiction; Runaway teenagers -- Juvenile fiction
“Yes, I think I may venture to take a five, and, as I might not be able
to change it right away, I will take a one to send for a ticket. Then I
will put the wallet back in the man’s pocket.”
So far, all went smoothly, and Leonard was proceeding to carry out his
intention when, taking a precautionary look at the man on the ground, he
was dumfounded by seeing his eyes wide open and fixed upon him.
Leonard flushed painfully, like a criminal detected in a crime, and
returned the look of inquiry by one of dismay.
“What--you--doing?” inquired the victim of inebriety.
“I--is this your wallet, sir?” stammered Leonard.
“Course it is. What you got it for?”
“I--I saw it on the ground, and was afraid some one would find it, and
rob you,” said Leonard, fluently.
“Somebody did find it,” rejoined the man, whose senses seemed coming
back to him. “How much did you take?”
“I? You don’t think I would take any of your money?” said Leonard, in
virtuous surprise.
“Looked like it! Can’t tell who to trust.”
“I assure you, I had only just picked it up, and was going to put it
back in your pocket, sir.”
The man, drunk as he was, winked knowingly.
“Smart boy!” he said. “You do it well, ol’ fella!”
“But, sir, it is quite true, I assure you. I will count over the money
before you. Do you know how much you had?”
“Nev’ mind. Help me up!”
Leonard stooped over and helped the drunkard to a sitting position.
“Where am I? Where is hotel?”
Leonard answered him.
“Take me to hotel, and I’ll give you a dollar.”
“Certainly, sir,” said Leonard, briskly. He was to get his dollar after
all, and would not have to steal it. I am afraid he is not to be praised
for his honesty, as it seemed to be a matter of necessity.
“I wish he’d give me five dollars,” thought Leonard, but didn’t see his
way clear to make the suggestion.
He placed the man on his feet, and guided his steps to the road. As he
walked along, the inebriate, whose gait was at first unsteady, recovered
his equilibrium and required less help.
“How long had you been lying there?” asked Leonard.
“Don’t know. I was taken sick,” and the inebriate nodded knowingly at
Leonard, who felt at liberty to laugh, too.
“Do you ever get sick?”
“Not that way,” answered Leonard.
“Smart boy! Better off!”
They reached the hotel, and Leonard engaged a room for his companion.
“Has he got money?” asked the landlord, in a low voice.
“Yes,” answered Leonard, “he has nearly a hundred dollars. I counted it
myself.”
“That’s all right, then,” said the landlord. “Here, James, show the
gentleman up to No. 15.”
“Come, too,” said the stranger to Leonard.
The latter followed the more readily because he had not yet been paid
his dollar.
The door of No. 15 was opened, and the two entered.
“I will stay with the gentleman a short time,” said Leonard to the boy.
“If we want anything we will ring.”
“All right, sir.”
“What’s your name?” asked the inebriate, as he sank into a large
armchair near the window.
“Leonard Craig.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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