The Hand-Made Gentleman: A Tale of the Battles of Peace — John Shaqi
The Hand-Made Gentleman: A Tale of the Battles of PeaceBacheller, Irving
History
The Hand-Made Gentleman: A Tale of the Battles of Peace
Bacheller, Irving
United States -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction
It was almost a shock to me--his unexpected honesty and my good-fortune.
After all, he could not be so bad as I had thought him.
“Broke and lookin' for a job, I suppose?” he queried, with a smile.
“I've only a little money, and don't know yet what I'm going to do.”
“How would you like to earn fifty dollars to-day?”
Fifty dollars! It was a great sum! I could go home with it and possibly
pay my fine, if that were necessary. But how so much in a day if it were
honest money?
“It will take nerve,” he said. “I guess you're not brave enough.”
“You're wrong there. I'm brave enough for any work--if it's honest.”
“Oh, it's as honest as my aunt Maria,” he assured me.
I knew that venerable lady, and on the score of honor it seemed rather
promising.
“It's as safe as standing here on the sidewalk, but, old boy, it will
take some nerve,” he went on. “It will take more nerve than I've got,
and I'm no squab at that.”
“What is it?” I asked, burning with curiosity.
“Well, you've heard of the chap who's going to walk a rope across the
rapids? It will be way up in the air. You can just see it now, down
the river there, hanging between the cliffs. Looks like a spider's
thread--but, say, it weighs a ton. I've been helping 'em hang it. The
old man wants to carry some light, nervy chap on his shoulders when he
makes the trip. There's only one that's used to the game, and he's on a
spree, and they're stuck--can't find a fellow game enough for the job.”
It is hard to separate a boy from his folly--not all the schools in the
world can help much; and for a long time it is like a sword hanging over
his head.
I jumped at the offer, for had I not determined for her sake to fear no
peril?
“Come on, then,” said Bony. “He'll want to try you, and there's no time
to lose.”
I went to Sam and Fannie, and promised to see them at the inn at six.
“Look out for scamps, boy,” Sam whispered. “Keep your eye peeled.”
I assured him that I would do so, and hurried down the high shore with
Bony.
I wonder, sometimes, that I let myself go on. Well, there is something
deep in it which I do not profess to understand. The spirit of the time
was in me, and I was like ten thousand others. Men loved the perils
of adventure those days. No speculation was too reckless for them, no
hazard too fearful, no enterprise too difficult. The risks of the desert
and the plains and the battle-field had schooled us for that kind of
business.
Well, I had learned one thing, at least, since the last lesson--that
a good heart may be in a rough body. Remember--you children of
luxury--that some rather hard-handed people have been my friends.
ADVENTURE X.--WHICH IS THE ADVENTURE OF CRICKET ON THE HEMPEN BRIDGE
[Illustration: 9114]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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