On the Missouri Steamer. Page 11.

THE UPWARD AND ONWARD SERIES.

PLANE AND PLANK;

OR,

THE MISHAPS OF A MECHANIC.

BY

OLIVER OPTIC,

AUTHOR OF "YOUNG AMERICA ABROAD," "THE ARMY AND NAVY STORIES,"
"THE WOODVILLE STORIES," "THE BOAT-CLUB STORIES," "THE
STARRY FLAG STORIES," "THE LAKE-SHORE
SERIES," ETC.

WITH FOURTEEN ILLUSTRATIONS.

BOSTON:

LEE AND SHEPARD.

NEW YORK:

CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM.

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871,

By WILLIAM T. ADAMS,

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington.

ELECTROTYPED AT THE

BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,

19 Spring Lane.

TO

MY YOUNG FRIEND

GEORGE W. HILLS

This Book

IS AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED.

[PREFACE.]

"Plane and Plank" is the second of The Upward and Onward Series, in which the hero, Phil Farringford, appears as a mechanic. The events of the story are located on the Missouri River and in the city of St. Louis. Phil learns the trade of a carpenter, and the contrast between a young mechanic of an inquiring mind, earnestly laboring to master his business, and one who feels above his calling, and overvalues his own skill, is presented to the young reader, with the hope that he will accept the lesson.

Incidentally, in the person and history of Phil's father the terrible evils of intemperance are depicted, and the value of Christian love and earnest prayer in the reformation of the unfortunate inebriate is exhibited.

Though the incidents of the hero's career are quite stirring, and some of the situations rather surprising, yet Phil is always true to himself; and those who find themselves in sympathy with him cannot possibly be led astray, while they respect his Christian principles, reverence the Bible, and strive with him to do their whole duty to God and man.

Harrison Square, Boston,

June 7, 1870.

[CONTENTS.]

TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PLANE AND PLANK;

OR,

THE MISHAPS OF A MECHANIC.

[CHAPTER I.]

IN WHICH PHIL MAKES THE ACQUAINTANCE OF MR. LEONIDAS LYNCHPINNE.

"What do you think you shall do for a living, Phil Farringford, when you arrive at St. Louis?" asked Mr. Gracewood, as we sat on the hurricane deck of a Missouri River steamer.

"I don't care much what I do, if I can only get into some mechanical business," I replied. "I want to learn a trade. I don't think I'm very vain when I say that I have about half learned one now."

"Perhaps you have half learned several," added my excellent friend, with a smile. "I have no doubt you will make a good mechanic, for you are handy in the use of tools; and you have been thrown so much upon your own resources that you are full of expedients."

"I am always delighted when I have a difficult job to do. Nothing pleases me so much as to study up the means of overcoming an obstacle," I added.

"The first qualification for any pursuit is to have a taste for it. You will make a good mechanic."

"I am only afraid that after I have learned a trade, I shall not care to work at it."

"That won't do," protested Mr. Gracewood. "You mustn't keep jumping from one thing to another. Frequent change is the enemy of progress. You must not be fickle."

"But, after I have learned my trade, or rather finished learning it, there will be no more difficulties to overcome."

"Yes, there will. What trade do you mean to learn?"

"The carpenter's, I think."

"There may be an infinite variety in the trade."

"I know there may be, but there is not. One house must be very much like every other one, I don't think I could be contented to keep doing the same thing over and over again."

"If you wish to succeed, you must stick to your trade, Phil Farringford."

"Should I stick to it if I can do better at something else?"

"You must, at least, be very sure that you can do better at something else."

"Of course I shall; but, if I learn my trade, I shall always have it to fall back upon."

"That is very true; but I wish to impress it upon your mind that fickleness of purpose is fatal to any real success in morals, in science, and in business."

Our conversation was interrupted by the stopping of the steamer at a wood-yard; for I never lost an opportunity, on those occasions, to take a walk on shore. I was nervously anxious to see everything there was to be seen. All was new and strange; and every day, as the settlements on the banks of the great river increased in number and extent, afforded me a new sensation. As I had been brought up far away from the haunts of civilization, even a house was a curiosity to me; and I gazed with astonishment at the busy scenes which were presented to me in some of the larger towns. At St. Joseph we had taken on board quite a number of passengers, and the scene in the cabin had become much livelier than before.

The addition was not wholly an improvement, for among the new arrivals were not a few gamblers. From this time the tables were occupied by these blacklegs, and such of the passengers as they could induce to join them in the hazardous sport, from early in the morning until late at night. The parties thus engaged were surrounded by a crowd of curious observers, watching the turnings of the game, and perhaps calculating their own chances if they engaged in the wretched business. I had looked on myself with interest, and when I saw a man put five dollars into his pocket on the turn of a card, I thought it was an easy way to make money; but then I had an opportunity to see that it was just as easy a way to lose it.

Mr. Gracewood had called me away from my position near the table, after the gamblers had commenced their operations, and cautioned me never to play for money at any game. He explained to me the nature of the business, and assured me that the gamblers who had come on board at St. Joseph were of the vilest class of men. After his lecture I was not tempted to try my hand with the party at the table. The talk about making and losing money at games of chance introduced the subject of my own finances. I had paid my passage to St. Louis, and had besides nearly one hundred dollars in gold in a shot-bag in my pocket.

While we were talking, I took out the bag, and counted the pieces, as I had done several times on the passage, to assure myself that my funds were all right. My excellent friend told me I must learn prudence, and that I ought not to exhibit my money, especially while we had so many suspicious characters on board. I was alarmed, and looked around to discover who had observed me. One of the passengers, who had come on board at "St. Joe," was promenading the deck, and I had noticed that he passed quite near me several times. He was a young man flashily dressed, but he did not look like a bad man. I put my shot-bag into my pocket, resolved not to show it again, and we continued to discuss the financial question till it led us to the consideration of my future occupation.

The wood-yard where the boat stopped was in a lonely region, and it was just sunset when she touched the shore. Its location was at the mouth of a stream down which the wood was brought in flatboats, though a young forest was growing in the region around the landing. As it was too damp for his wife and daughter to walk, Mr. Gracewood would not go on shore, and I went alone. It was a great luxury to stretch one's legs for an hour on the hard ground after living for weeks on the steamer.

"How long before you leave?" I asked of the captain, as I went over the plank.

"Perhaps not till morning," he replied.

"Do you stay here all night?"

"It's going to be foggy, and I don't think we can run down to Leavenworth, which is not more than seven miles from here. We should have to lie there till morning if we went on."

I was sorry for this, because Mrs. Gracewood had a friend in the place, where we intended to spend the evening, and I was anxious to see the inside of a civilized house. However, we could make the visit the next day, for the boat was to stay several hours at the town. I went on shore, and several of the passengers did the same.

"It's quite smoky on the river," said a young man, coming up to me as we landed.

"Yes; the captain says he shall probably have to lie here till morning," I replied.

"That's too bad," added my companion, the St. Joe passenger whom I had observed on the hurricane deck when I was counting my money. "I meant to go to a prayer-meeting in Leavenworth this evening."

"A prayer-meeting!" I repeated, my interest awakened; for I had heard Mr. Gracewood speak of such gatherings, though I had never attended one.

"When I came up the river three days ago, they were holding them every evening in the chapel; and I am anxious to attend."

"I should like to go very much."

"I think I shall go as it is," continued the young man, looking at his watch.

"How can you go if the boat remains here?"

"I can walk. It is not more than three or four miles across the bend of the river."

"I should like to go with you very much," I answered.

"I should be very glad of your company."

"If you will wait a few moments, I will speak to Mr. Gracewood."

He consented to wait, and I hastened to the saloon. When I had stated my desire, Mr. Gracewood rather objected.

"You don't know the person with whom you are going," said he.

"I think I can take care of myself, sir. But I don't think there can be any danger in going with a young man who is willing to walk four miles to attend a prayer-meeting."

"Perhaps not. I should really like to go to one myself."

"I don't think there can be any danger," interposed Mrs. Gracewood. "If we could get a vehicle here, we would all go."

"There is the captain. I will ask him if one cannot be obtained," said Mr. Gracewood.

The captain said there was no vehicle suitable to convey a lady, but he would send a party of three in the steamer's boat, if they would pay the expenses of the two oarsmen in Leavenworth for the night.

"But can't you send five as well as three?" asked Mr. Gracewood, who did not object to the expense.

"The boat is hardly large enough to carry them besides the two oarsmen. I lost my boat going up the river, and I had to take such a one as I could find," replied the captain.

"But I would rather walk," I added. "I will meet you in the town."

"Very well, Phil Farringford. Go to the landing when you arrive, and wait for us."

I promised to do so, and joined the young man on the shore. We started immediately for our destination, and passing through the grove of young trees, we reached the open prairie, over which there was a wagon track.

"I don't happen to know your name," said my companion.

"Philip Farringford; but my friends call me Phil."

"Farringford; I know a man of that name in St. Louis," replied he. "He used to be a large steamboat owner, but he has gone to ruin now."

"Gone to ruin?"

"Yes, drank hard, and lost all his property. He is a poor, miserable fellow now."

"Had he a family?"

"He had a wife, but she left him years ago. She was a very pretty woman, they say, though I never saw her."

"Did you ever hear that he and his wife were on board a steamer which was burned on the upper Missouri?"

"Never did."

Very likely this man was the owner of the steamer after which I had been named; but it was not probable that he was in any manner related to me. My curiosity was satisfied, or rather my new friend could give me no further information in regard to him.

"There was a steamer of that name burned on the Missouri about eleven years ago," I added.

"Well, I was a boy then, and did not come to St. Louis till years after."

"I should like to ascertain something about that boat, Mr.—You didn't tell me your name."

"Just so; I did not. My name is—my name is Lynchpinne," he replied, with some hesitation, so that I wondered whether he had not forgotten his name—"Leonidas Lynchpinne."

I thought it was a queer name, but an instinct of politeness prevented me from saying so.

"What do you wish to know in regard to that steamer, Phil?" he asked.

"Some of my relations were on board of her, and I should like to ascertain whether they were saved or not."

"Farringford will know all about it, if you can catch him when he is sober, which is not very often. I will help you out with it when we get to St. Louis."

"Thank you, Mr. Lynchpinne. I shall be under very great obligations to you if you can help me."

I thought my new friend was a very obliging young man, and I was glad to know him, especially as he was in the habit of attending prayer-meetings.

[CHAPTER II.]

IN WHICH PHIL MEETS WITH HIS FIRST MISHAP.

Four miles was a short walk to me, and when we reached Leavenworth, I was as fresh as when we started. The town, then in the third year of its existence, had a population of two thousand, and some substantial buildings had already been erected.

"Where is the landing-place?" I asked, as we entered the town.

"It is not far from here," replied Mr. Lynchpinne. "But that boat won't be here for an hour or two yet."

"But I would rather go there at once."

"There is no hurry; but we will go down in a few minutes. I want to inquire at what time the prayer-meeting commences."

"I will go directly to the landing, if you will tell me the way. I won't keep you waiting, and I will see you at the meeting."

"Don't be in a hurry. It is only a little past six, and the boat won't arrive for an hour, certainly. I will go down with you in five minutes," persisted my companion.

"I would not have my friends wait for me a moment," I added.

"We shall have to wait an hour for them. We will go up to the hotel, and engage a room, for we may not find one after the meeting."

He conducted me through the principal street of the town, and I gazed with interest at the shops, houses, and people.

"How much farther have we to go?" I asked, when I judged that the five minutes had expired.

"Only a short distance; but we are going towards the river all the time."

"We passed a hotel just now."

"That is not the one I stop at when I am here. The prices are too high for me. I have money enough, but you know a young man ought to be economical on principle."

I thought this was very good logic, and I fully subscribed to it; for, though I had almost a hundred dollars in my pocket, I wished to save as much as possible of it. Mr. Lynchpinne turned down a cross street, and presently stopped before a large two-story frame house, the lower part of which was a shop of some kind; but it was closed. On the outside of the building there was a flight of stairs leading to the second story.

"We will go up here and inquire about the prayer-meeting," said my new friend. "It won't take but a moment."

"Very well; but don't be long. I will wait here till you come down."

"No; come up."

"I had just as lief wait here."

"But this is the place where we shall sleep. A friend of mine lets out some rooms here to lodgers. We can sleep here for fifty cents each, and it would cost a dollar at the hotel."

"All right; you engage a room for both of us."

"But come up. If you should want to go to bed before I am ready to come in, you won't be able to find your room, if you don't go and look at it now."

I thought we were wasting more time in debating the matter than it would take for me to look at the chamber, and I followed him up the stairs. We entered the building, which was of considerable dimensions. I groped my way, after my friend, through long entries, which were not lighted, until, after turning two corners, he halted and knocked.

"Who's there?" called a voice from within.

"Lynch," replied my guide. "Lynch is the short of Lynchpinne," he added to me.

"Come in!"

I heard the springing of a bolt on the door before it was opened.

"Go in, Phil," said my companion, placing himself behind me, and gently forcing me into the apartment.

The room was not more than twelve feet square.

The only furniture it contained was a chair and a small toilet-table. The former was placed in one corner, and the latter directly in front of it.

"Is there to be a prayer-meeting this evening?" asked Mr. Lynchpinne of the man who sat behind the table.

"Of course."

"At what time?"

"Half past seven. What have you there?" continued the man behind the table.

"A dove who has the yellow."

"Right; we will begin the meeting now then," added the man, producing a little silver box, open on one side, so that I could see it contained a pack of cards.

This was the first intimation I had that anything was wrong. The sight of the cards roused my suspicions, as well they might. I had heard the snap of the bolt as the man locked the door when we entered. I looked about me, and discovered that there were no windows in the room, though there was another door besides that by which we had entered.

"Put that up," said Mr. Lynchpinne. "You know that I never gamble."

"I thought you wanted to open the meeting."

"I don't know what you mean," added my companion, who certainly looked very innocent.

"O, you don't!"

"Of course I don't. My young friend and I must stay in town over night, and we want a room. Have you any left, Redwood?"

"Not a room."

"Can't you find one?" persisted my friend.

"Everything on this floor is let by the week."

"There's the corner room in the attic," said the man who had opened the door when we entered.

"Show it to them, Glynn," added Redwood, who appeared to be the proprietor of the establishment.

"I know where it is. Give me a light, and I won't trouble you," said Lynchpinne.

Glynn opened a door which led to another room, and soon appeared with a rusty iron candlestick, and the stump of a candle, which he lighted.

"Come, Phil, we will see the room," said Lynchpinne, when we were in the entry.

"What sort of a place is this?" I demanded. "I don't like the looks of it."

"Nor I," he replied. "I should judge by the looks that Redwood gambles."

"I think I won't stay here. I don't want to be in a gambling-house."

"Humph! It will be just the same if you go to the hotel. Let us look at the room, at any rate."

"You have seen it before."

"But I wish you to see it; then, if you don't like to stay here, we will go to the hotel."

I followed him up the narrow flight of stairs, and at the end of an entry, which extended the whole length of the building, we entered a chamber. It contained a rude bed, a chair, and a wash-stand.

"Not very elegant accommodations," said Lynchpinne, as we surveyed the room; "but when I can save half a dollar without any real sacrifice of comfort, I do so."

"I had as lief sleep here as anywhere," I replied. "Wouldn't it have been more economical to stay on board the steamer?"

"Doubtless it would; but I wanted to come, and so did you. We will do it as cheap as we can—that's all."

"I'm satisfied."

"Then I will put this candle on the chair, with a couple of matches by the side of it, so that we can come in without any assistance."

"Let us be in a hurry, for I am afraid that boat will get to the landing before we do," I added, impatiently.

"You need not concern yourself about her. We shall have to wait half an hour when we get to the river. But I am all ready."

"So am I."

"I hope you haven't much money about you, Phil," said my companion, as he placed the candle on the chair.

"I have a little. But why do you say that?"

"Because there are a great many bad men about these new towns; and some of them would not scruple to rap you over the head for your money. Besides, there will be a crowd on the steamboat levee, and we may have our pockets picked. I think I shall hide my money in the bed."

Suiting the action to the word, he took his wallet from his pocket, and thrust his arm into the bed up to the shoulder.

"No one will think of looking there for it," he added, as if thoroughly satisfied with what he had done. "I advise you to do the same."

"I don't mean to leave my money here," I replied. "I don't like the looks of the people in this house."

"Nor I: but they will not think of such a thing as looking into the bed for money. Take my advice, Phil."

"No; I think I can take care of what money I have," I answered.

"You haven't been about this region so much as I have, or you wouldn't run any risks," he continued; and I thought he was very persistent about the care of my funds.

"That may be, though I think my money will be safer in my pocket than in that bed. But come, Mr. Lynchpinne. We are wasting our time, and we had better hurry down to the river."

"How much money have you, Phil?" asked my companion.

"I have enough to pay my way for a few days longer," I replied, moving towards the door.

"I hate to see a fellow come into a place like this and lose all his money."

"You needn't trouble yourself at all about it. If I lose it, I won't blame you, for you have certainly given me abundant warning."

"At least put your money in a safe place on your person before we go out."

"It's all right," I answered, placing my hand upon my pocket, where the shot-bag which held my funds was deposited. "But hurry up, and let us go to the landing."

"Is that where you keep your money?" he added. "You are certain to lose it all if you carry it in that pocket. Put it inside your vest, and then button your coat."

"There is no pocket inside of my vest."

"No matter for that. Tie it up in your handkerchief, and fasten it to your suspender. Do anything with it, except to leave it in that pocket."

I rather liked his suggestion, though I was not quite satisfied with the degree of interest he manifested in the safety of my money. I took out the shot-bag, and wrapped it in the handkerchief, and was about to deposit it in the place he had indicated, when, with a sudden spring, he snatched the bag from me, kicked over the chair on which the candle had been placed, and fled from the room. I was in total darkness; but I leaped forward to grapple with the assailant, for I was determined not to lose my money without a struggle to recover it.

I was taken wholly by surprise, for I had not suspected that a young man who was in the habit of attending prayer-meetings would be capable of any dishonest act. As I leaped forward to the door, it was closed before me. The villain had made his calculations beforehand, and moved with greater facility than I could. I heard him lock the door upon me, and I immediately realized that I was a prisoner in the strange house. Then I understood the nature of my kind friend's solicitude about my funds. He had been laboring all this time to induce me to produce my shot-bag, so that he could snatch it from me.

I heard his footsteps in the long entry, as he retreated from the scene of his crime. I took hold of the door, and tried to pull it open; but though it was a sham affair, I did not succeed. If I shouted, I should doubtless call up Redwood, or his assistant; and I came to the conclusion that the house was a den of robbers and gamblers. I decided to exercise my skill still further upon the door.

[CHAPTER III.]

IN WHICH PHIL SLIPS OFF HIS COAT, AND RETREATS IN GOOD ORDER.

It is scarcely necessary for me to say that I was exceedingly indignant at the trick played upon me by Mr. Leonidas Lynchpinne; and I was not at all comforted by the reflection that he had used the cloak of religion to cover his designs. He had seen me counting my gold on board of the steamer; and the wisdom of Mr. Gracewood's advice on that occasion had already been demonstrated. If I had not carelessly exhibited the contents of my shot-bag, the unpleasant event which had happened to me could not have occurred.

I went to work upon the lock of the door. I have said that I am fond of encountering a difficulty; but I must say that the difficulty of opening that door was an exception to the general rule. I did not enjoy it at all. I fingered over it a while in the dark, with no success, and with no prospect of any, till it occurred to me that the candle and the matches which my companion had placed in the chair were available. I felt about the floor till I found them, and soon had a little light on the subject. The partition was a very superficial piece of work, and I saw that, if I could not spring the bolt of the lock, I could pull the door open.

The door did not come within half an inch of the threshold, and there was a space equally wide at the top. I pulled the bottom out with my fingers till I could thrust the handle of my knife in at the side. The door was thin, and sprang easily under the pressure. When I got a fair hold, I pulled it open, tearing out the fastening from the frame of the door. The creaking and cracking produced by the operation amounted to a considerable noise; but I made haste to use the advantage I had gained before any of the villanous occupants of the house discovered me.

Taking the candle in my hand, I walked through the long entry towards the stairs by which I had come up. But I had gone but half the distance before I discovered the man Glynn hastening in the opposite direction. He was a burly fellow, and I suddenly experienced a feeling of regret that I was not on the other side of him, for I was satisfied that any conquest I might gain over him would be by the use of my legs rather than my fists.

"What's that noise here?" demanded Glynn, halting in the middle of the passage.

"I made some noise in opening the door of the room."

"Lynch says some one is breaking into the rooms. Are you the one?"

"No; I didn't break in; I broke out. But if you will excuse me, I will go, for I am in a hurry to get to the river."

"Never saw a rogue yet that was not in a hurry."

"What do you mean by that?" I demanded.

"Some one has been breaking into our rooms, and I only want to catch the fellow that did it."

"I am not the fellow."

"Lynch says you are."

"Where is Lynch?"

"Gone out; I don't know where. What have you been doing up here?"

"I have been robbed of my money by the fellow you call Lynch; and I only want to get hold of him," I replied.

"That won't go down here," said Glynn, shaking his head.

"Well, I shall go down, any how."

"Not yet, till I see what you have been about here," added he, as he took me by the wrist, and walked in the direction from which I had just come.

Fully persuaded that I should make nothing by resistance, I determined to await my opportunity, rather than spend my strength in a useless battle, in which I was liable to have my head broken. He led me to the room I had just left, the door of which was open. The splintered door-frame betrayed my operations at once.

"Did you do that?" demanded Glynn, savagely.

"I did."

"Then you are the chap I've been looking for," said he, squeezing my wrist till the bones crackled.

"Lynch snatched my money, and then locked me into the room, while he ran away. That's the whole story."

"I tell you that won't go down," added Glynn, giving me a rude shake.

"Isn't this the room to which you sent him and me, and didn't you give him the key?"

"And didn't you break down this door? That's what I want to know."

"I have said that I did; and I have explained the reason of it."

"Redwood may settle the business to suit himself. Come down to the office."

He walked me through the long entry, and down the stairs to a room adjoining that we had entered before. Glynn explained to the man I had seen with the silver box in his hand, and who was doubtless the proprietor of the house, what had occurred in the attic.

"I see," said Redwood. "This is a very pretty story; and this boy wants to hurt the reputation of the house by declaring that he has been robbed here. As you say, Glynn, that won't go down."

"But it is true," I protested.

"You know it isn't true. How old are you, boy?"

"Thirteen."

"How much money did you lose?" asked Redwood, with an obvious sneer.

"Nearly a hundred dollars."

"In wildcat bank notes, I dare say."

"No, sir, in gold."

"That's a likely story! Boys of thirteen don't travel round much in these times with a hundred dollars in gold in their trousers' pockets."

"But I had the money, and I have been robbed in this house."

"I don't believe a word of it. But you have been breaking down my doors, and trying to get into my rooms. There isn't much law here, but you shall try on what little there is."

"I can prove all I say by my friends on board of the steamer."

"It's too late to do anything to-night, Glynn. You must keep him till morning. Lock him up in No. 10."

"I'm not going to be locked up in No. 10," I protested, my indignation getting the better of my discretion, for I could not help thinking of Mr. Gracewood and his family fretting and worrying about me all night; and a sense of the injustice to which I was subjected stung me to the soul.

"Perhaps you are not; but we'll see," replied Redwood, with his hand on the knob of the door which opened into the room I had first entered with Lynchpinne, and in which I heard voices.

"Is the man I came with in there?" I asked, pointing to the door.

"No; take him round to No. 10, Glynn."

"Come along, youngster," said the man, as he seized me by the collar of my coat, and dragged me out into the entry.

I was powerless in the grasp of the stout fellow, and he led me along the entry till we had almost reached the door by which we had entered the building. At a door on the right, marked No. 10, in red chalk, my custodian halted. Setting his candlestick upon the floor, he applied the key to the door, for he still held me by the collar with one hand. I had no taste whatever for being locked up in No. 10, which I saw was an inner chamber, like the gambling apartment I had first visited.

While Glynn was unlocking the door, a piece of strategy occurred to me, which I instantly adopted. Like the prudent shipmaster, who is sometimes compelled to cut away a mast to save the ship, I was obliged to sacrifice my coat to obtain my liberty. Throwing my arms behind me, I slipped out of the garment, and sprang to the outside door, leaving the coat in the hands of Glynn. Fortunately the door was ajar, and throwing it open, I fled down the stairs with a celerity which doubtless astonished my burly jailer.

"Stop, you rascal!" shouted Glynn; but, without pausing to consider the polite invitation, I promptly declined it.

"The next instant the iron candlestick struck me in the back, but inflicted no damage upon me. It was followed by another missile, which I did not identify, and then by my coat. I do not think the fellow meant to return the garment I needed so much on a cool night; but, having it in his hand, he threw it at me, as he had everything else within his reach. I grasped the coat, and ran down the street, closely pursued by Glynn. Finding I was attracting the attention of people in the street, two or three of whom attempted to stop me when they saw a man was pursuing me, I turned into a cross street. I ran with my coat on my arm, and soon distanced my clumsy pursuer. I turned several times, but I had no idea where I was or whither I was going, and I soon found myself out on the prairie.

Phil escapes from Glynn. Page 40.

No one was near me, and I was satisfied that Glynn had abandoned the chase. I put on my coat, and walked leisurely in the direction which I thought would lead me to the river. I was vexed and discouraged at the loss of my money. My first mishap gave me some experience of the disadvantages of civilization, for in the field and forest from which I had come, we had no gamblers, or thieves, except the Indians. It would be a very pretty story to tell Mr. Gracewood, that I had not been smart enough to take care of myself, in spite of my boast to that effect, and that I had lost all my money, except a little change in silver, which I carried in my vest pocket. It was exceedingly awkward and annoying, and I was almost ashamed to meet my excellent friend.

I continued to walk, keeping the houses of the town on my left, expecting soon to see the river. But it seemed to me that the longer I walked, the more I did not see it, and the less became the probability that I should see it. In a word, I could not find any river, and I concluded that I was journeying away from it, instead of towards it. The houses on my left diminished in number, and I saw that all the lights were behind me. I thought that, by this time, Glynn had given up the chase, and was probably busy in attending to the wants of the gamblers in Redwood's den. Turning to the left, I walked towards the centre of the town, and soon struck a broad street, which had been laid out, and on which an occasional house had been erected.

This course brought me to the middle of the place, and in front of the hotel. I ventured to inquire the way to the river. Taking the direction pointed out to me, I reached the landing-place without further difficulty. I found the place where the steamers stopped, but there was no boat to be seen. I visited every point above and below the landing; I inquired in shops and offices, and of everybody I met; but I could not discover the steamer's boat, and no one had seen it or heard of it. It was very strange, and I was perplexed, but not alarmed. A trip of seven miles in a boat, even in the evening, was not a very perilous undertaking, and I was not willing to believe that any accident had happened to my friends.

I had seen a clock in one of the stores where I had called, and I knew it was half past eight. The boat must have arrived at least an hour before, if it had come at all; but I had almost reached the conclusion that my friends had abandoned the excursion. But if they had come, Mr. Gracewood would go to the prayer-meeting, expecting to find me there, and I went in search of such a gathering.

[CHAPTER IV.]

IN WHICH PHIL ENDEAVORS TO REMEDY HIS FIRST MISHAP.

I went up to the centre of the town, where I had seen a church; but it was closed, and all its windows were dark. I inquired for the other churches, and visited the rest of them; but I could find no prayer-meeting. Those whom I asked had not heard of any meetings. By this time I concluded that I was an idiot to believe that the prayer-meeting was anything but a ruse on the part of Mr. Leonidas Lynchpinne, otherwise Lynch, which was probably his true name, and which he had doubtless extended for my especial benefit.

I was disgusted, and heartily wished I had not left the steamer. I made up my mind that it was not safe to trust any stranger, even if he said he was in the habit of attending prayer-meetings; but I ought to add that I have always found it safe to trust those who really attend them, and really take an interest in them. I had been duped, deceived, robbed. I wanted my money back, and I was quite as anxious to see Lynch as I was Mr. Gracewood.

I walked up to the hotel, and looked at every body I saw in the public rooms, hoping that my fellow-passenger had concluded to pay a dollar for his lodging, instead of fifty cents at the gambling den, which I thought he now could afford to do, with his funds replenished with the contents of my shot-bag. He was not there, and I went over towards the house where I had been robbed. I approached the locality very cautiously, for I was not anxious to confront the burly Glynn.

I examined the building at a respectful distance, and tried to fix the location of the attic chamber where Lynch had plundered me; but I had twisted about so many times in the long entries that I was unable to do so. Occasionally a man, or a party of men, went up the steps, and I supposed them to be the lodgers in the house. I watched those who went in and those who came out, in the hope that I might see Lynch. I did not see him, and perhaps it was just as well for me that I did not, for, as I felt then, I should certainly have "pitched into him."

I could not do anything to help myself. I was tempted to arm myself with a club and go into the lodging-house in search of the rascal who had robbed me; but this would have been very imprudent. It was possible that Lynch was still in the house, and that he would occupy the room in the attic. I could not help thinking that Redwood was his confederate, and that my money would be shared between them. They seemed to understand each other perfectly, and I recalled the remark of my companion, incomprehensible to me when it was uttered, that I was "a dove with the yellows." A dove is the emblem of innocence, and the yellows I took to be a metaphor, based upon the color of the pieces in my shot-bag.

It was clearly more prudent for me to wait till the next morning before I attempted to do anything; and, having satisfied myself of the correctness of my conclusion, I decided to wait, with what patience I could, for the assistance of my friends the next day. The night was advancing, and I had no place to sleep. I had not money enough left to pay even for a cheap lodging; and it was rather cool to camp on the ground without a blanket. But I had a berth on board of the steamer, if I could find my way back to her. I was not so tired that I could not walk four miles.

I started for the wood-yard, and, with less difficulty than I expected, I found the road over the prairie. As I trudged along in the darkness, I thought of all the events of the evening. It was a pity that the world contained any such rascals as "Mr. Leonidas Lynchpinne;" but I was confident that the next time I met one of his class I should be a match for him, and would not even go to a prayer-meeting with him. It was possible that this worthy had returned to the steamer, relying upon Redwood to retain me till after the steamer had left the town; but I did not depend much upon finding him in his state-room.

Reaching the wood-yard, I went on board of the steamer. Though it was nearly midnight, the gamblers on board were still plying their infamous vocation. I went to the table, and satisfied myself that Lynch was not among them. I visited the state-room which Mr. Gracewood had occupied with me since we left Council Bluffs, where the number of passengers increased so that I could no longer have a room to myself. He was not there; and there was no light in the room occupied by his wife and daughter. I was not willing to believe they had left the boat till I obtained this evidence.

The bar of the steamer was still open, for wherever the gamblers were whiskey was in demand. I asked the bar-keeper where the captain was, and learned that he had retired; but the clerk was still up, and I soon found him, for I wished to ascertain where Lynch's room was.

"Well, Phil, you are up late," said the clerk, as I walked up to him; and in the long trip I had become well acquainted with him.