after another followed the president’s lead, the president himself making the rounds bareheaded, and gathering the contributions in his hat.
“Oh, sir!” said Harry, as soon as he understood what was going forward, “don’t reward me for what was only my duty. I should be ashamed to accept anything for the little I have done.”
“You may count it little to save the lives of a train full of people,” said the president, dryly, “but we set a slight value upon our lives and limbs. Are you rich?”
“No, sir.”
“So I thought. Well, you needn’t be ashamed to accept a little testimonial of our gratitude. You must not refuse.”
When all so disposed had contributed, the president gathered the bills from the hat and handed the pile to Harry.
“Take them, my boy,” he said, “and make good use of them. I shall owe you a considerable balance, for I value my life at more than twenty dollars. Here is my card. If you ever need a friend, or a service, call on me.”
Then the president gave directions to the engineer to run back to the preceding station, where there was a telegraph office, from which messages could be sent in both directions to warn trains of the washout.
Harry was left with his hands full of money, hardly knowing whether he was awake or dreaming.
One thing seemed to him only fair—to give the owner of the tablecloth some small share of the money, as an acknowledgment for the use of her property.
“Here, Madam,” said Harry, when he had retraced his steps to the house, “is your tablecloth, for which I am much obliged. It saved the train.”
“Well, I’m thankful! Little did I ever think a tablecloth would do so much good. Why, it only cost me a dollar and a quarter.”
“Allow me to ask your acceptance of this bill to pay you for the use of it.”
“Land sakes! why, you’ve given me ten dollars!”
“It’s all right. It came from the passengers. They gave me something too.”
“You didn’t tell me your name.”
“My name is Harry Vane.”
“Do you live round here? I never heerd the name afore.”
“I’ve just come to the village. I’m going to live with John Fox.”
“You don’t say! Be you any kin to Fox?”
“Not very near. He’s my guardian.”
“If he hears you’ve had any money give you, he’ll want to take care of it for you.”
This consideration had not occurred to Harry. Indeed, he had for so short a time been the possessor of the money, of which he did not know the amount, that this was not surprising.
“Well, good-morning!” he said.
“Good-morning! It’s been a lucky mornin’ for both of us.”
“I must go somewhere where I can count this money unobserved,” he said to himself.
Not far away he saw a ruined shed.
Harry entered the shed, and sitting down on a log, took out the bills, which he had hurriedly stuffed in his pocket, and began to count them.
“Almost three hundred dollars!” murmured Harry, joyously. “It has been, indeed, a lucky morning for me. It has nearly doubled my property.”
The question arose in his mind: “Should he give this money to Mr. Fox to keep for him?”
“No,” he decided, “I won’t give him this money. I won’t even let him know I have it.” Where, then, could he conceal it? Looking about him, he noticed a little, leather-covered, black trunk, not more than a foot long, and six inches deep. It was locked, but a small key was in the lock.
Opening the trunk he found it empty. The lock seemed in good condition. He made a pile of the bills, and depositing them in this receptacle, locked the trunk and put the key in his pocket.
Now for a place of concealment.
Harry came out of the shed, and looked scrutinizingly around him. Not far away was a sharp elevation surmounted by trees. The hill was a gravelly formation, and therefore dry. At one point near a withered tree, our hero detected a cavity, made either by accident or design. Its location near the tree made it easy to discover.
With a little labor he enlarged and deepened the hole, till he could easily store away the box in its recess, then covered it up carefully, and strewed grass and leaves over all to hide the traces of excavation.
“There that will do,” he said, in a tone of satisfaction.
He had reserved for possible need fifteen dollars in small bills, which he put into his pocketbook.
John Fox had heard the news in the post office, and started off at once for the scene of danger.
“How’d they hear of the washout?” he asked, puzzled.
“I heerd that a boy discovered it, and signaled the train,” said his neighbor.
“How did he do it?”
“Waved a shawl or somethin’.”
“That don’t seem likely; where would a boy find a shawl?”
His informant looked puzzled.
“Like as not he borrowed it of Mrs. Brock,” he suggested.
Mrs. Brock was the woman living in the small house near by, so that the speaker’s surmise was correct. It struck John Fox as possible, and he said so.
“I guess I’ll go and ask the Widder Brock,” he said. “She must have seen the train, livin’ so near as she does.”
“I’ll go along with you.”
The two men soon found themselves on Mrs. Brock’s premises.
“Good-mornin,’ Mrs. Brock,” said John Fox.
“You’ve come nigh havin’ a causality here.”
“You’re right there, Mr. Fox,” answered Mrs. Brock. “I was awful skeered about it, for I thought my Nancy might be on the train. When the boy run into my yard–”
“The boy! What boy?” asked Fox, eagerly.
“It was that boy you are guardeen of.”
“What, Harry Vane?” ejaculated Fox, in genuine surprise.
“Tell me all about it, Mrs. Brock.”
“Well, you see, he ran into my yard all out of breath, and grabbin’ a red tablecloth from the line, asked me if I would lend it to him. ‘Land sakes!’ says I, ‘what do you want of a tablecloth?’”
“‘The track’s
