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CHAPTER XXIII.
ESCAPE

Humpy made up his mind to accept our hero's offer. Fifty dollars was to him a small fortune, and he saw no reason why he should not earn it. The brutal treatment he had received from Smith removed all the objections he had at first felt.

Now, how was he going to fulfil his part of the compact?

To release Rufus would be comparatively easy. He happened to know that the key of his own room in the attic would also fit the door of the chamber in which our hero was confined. The difficulty was to get possession of the tin box. He did not even know where it was concealed, and must trust to his own sagacity to find out.

To this end he watched his employer carefully whenever he got a chance to do so without being observed, hoping he might take the box out from its place of concealment. Finally Smith noticed the boy's glances, and said, roughly, "What are you looking at, boy? Do you think you shall know me the next time you see me?"

Humpy did not reply, but this made him more careful.

In the morning he took up our hero's breakfast, meeting Martin on his way downstairs.

"Well," said Rufus, eagerly, as he entered the room, "have you found out anything about the box?"

"Not yet," said Humpy. "I'm tryin' to find where he's hid it. I can let you out any time."

"How?"

"I've got a key that fits this lock."

"That's well, but I'd rather wait till I can carry the box with me."

"I'll do what I can," said Humpy. "I'm goin' to watch him sharp. I'd better go down now, or maybe he'll be suspectin' something."

Humpy went downstairs, leaving Rufus to eat his breakfast. On his way down his attention was drawn by angry voices, proceeding from the room in which he had left Smith. He comprehended at once that Smith and Martin were having a dispute about something. He stood still and listened attentively, and caught the following conversation:—

"The boy tells me," said Martin, doggedly, "that there was four hundred dollars in the box. You only gave me fifty."

"Then the boy lies!" said Smith, irritated.

"I don't believe he does," said Martin. "I don't like him myself, but he aint in the habit of telling lies."

"Perhaps you believe him sooner than you do me."

"I don't see where the three hundred dollars went," persisted Martin. "Considerin' that I did all the work, fifty dollars was very small for me."

"You got half what there was. If there'd been more, you'd have got more."

"Why didn't you wait and open the box when I was there?"

"Look here," said Smith, menacingly, "if you think I cheated you, you might as well say so right out. I don't like beating around the bush."

"The boy says there was four hundred dollars. Turner told him so."

"Then Turner lies!" exclaimed Smith, who was the more angry, because the charge was a true one. "The box is just as it was when I opened it. I'll bring it out and show you just where I found the money."

When Humpy heard this, his eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation. Now, if ever, he would find out the whereabouts of the tin box. Luckily for him the door was just ajar, and by standing on the upper part of the staircase he could manage to see into the room.

He saw Smith go to a desk at the centre of one side of the room, and open a drawer in it. From this he drew out the box, and, opening it, displayed the contents to Martin.

"There," said he, "that's where I found the money. There was a roll of ten ten-dollar bills. I divided them into two equal parts, and gave you your share. I was disappointed myself, for I expected more. I didn't think you'd suspect me of cheating you. But I don't want any fuss. I'll give you ten dollars off my share, and then you can't complain."

So saying, he took out a ten from his pocket-book, and handed it to Martin.

"Are you satisfied now?" he asked.

"I suppose I shall have to be," said Martin, rather sullenly, for he was by no means sure of the veracity of his confederate.

"It's all I can do for you at any rate," said Smith. "And now suppose we take breakfast. I shall want you to go to Newark to-day."

He replaced the box in the drawer, and, locking it, put the key in his pocket.

By this time Humpy thought it would do to reappear.

"Where've you been all the time?" asked Smith, roughly.

"The boy upstairs was talkin' to me."

"What did he say?"

"He asked what was your business."

"What did you tell him?"

"I told him I didn't rightly know; but I thought you was a manufacturer."

"Right, Humpy; you're a smart boy," laughed Smith. "You know a thing or two."

The boy showed his teeth, and appeared pleased with the compliment.

"What else did he ask?"

"He asked, would I let him out?"

"Did he, the young rascal? And what did you tell him?"

"Not for Joe!"

"Good for you! There's a quarter;" and Smith offered the boy twenty-five cents.

"If he'd done that yesterday instead of hittin' me," thought Humpy, "I wouldn't have gone ag'inst him."

But the money came too late. Humpy had a brooding sense of wrong, not easily removed, and he had made up his mind to betray his employer.

The breakfast proceeded, Humpy waiting upon the table. When the meal was over, Smith gave Martin some instructions, and the latter set out for Newark, which was to be the scene of his operations during the day. About half an hour later Smith said, "Humpy, I've got to go down town; I may be gone all the forenoon. Stay in the house while I am gone, and look out, above all, that that boy upstairs don't escape."

"Yes, sir," said Humpy.

When Smith left, the coast was clear. There were none in the house except Rufus and the boy who was expected to stand guard over him. The giant had gone to Philadelphia on some business, precisely what Humpy did not understand, and there was nothing to prevent his carrying out his plans.

He had two or three old keys in his pocket, and with these he eagerly tried the lock of the drawer. But none exactly fitted. One was too large, the other two were too small.

Humpy decided what to do. He left the house, and went to a neighboring locksmith.

"I want to get a key," he said.

"What size?"

"A little smaller than this."

"I must know the exact size, or I can't suit you. What is it the key of?"

"A drawer."

"I can go with you to the house."

"That won't do," said Humpy. "I've lost the key, and I don't want the boss to know it. He'd find out if you went to the house."

"Then I'll tell you what you can do. Take an impression of the lock in wax. I'll give you some wax, and show you how. Then I'll make a key for you."

"Can you do it right off? I'm in a great hurry."

"Yes, my son, I'll attend to it right away."

He brought a piece of wax, and showed Humpy how to take an impression of a lock.

"There," said he, laughing, "that's the first lesson in burglary."

Humpy lost no time in hurrying back and following the locksmith's instructions. He then returned to the shop.

"How soon can I have the key?"

"In an hour. I'm pretty sure I've got a key that will fit this impression with a little filing down. Come back in an hour, and you shall have it."

Humpy went back, and seeing that there were some traces of wax on the lock, he carefully washed them off with soap. A little before the hour was up, he reported himself at the locksmith's.

"Your key is all ready for you," said the smith. "I guess it will answer."

"How much is it?"

"Twenty-five cents."

Humpy paid the money, and hurried to the house, anxious to make his experiment.

The locksmith's assurance was verified. The key did answer. The drawer opened, and the errand-boy's eyes sparkled with pleasure as they rested on the box. He snatched it, hastily relocked the drawer, and went up the stairs two at a time. He had the key of his attic room in his pocket. With this he opened the door of the chamber, and, entering triumphantly, displayed to Rufus the tin box.

"I've got it!" he ejaculated.

Rufus sprang to his feet, and hurried up to him.

"You're a trump!" he said. "How did you get hold of it?"

"I haven't time to tell you now. We must be goin', or Mr. Smith may come back and stop us."

"All right!" said Rufus; "I'm ready."

The two boys ran downstairs, and, opening the front door, made their egress into the street, Rufus with the tin box under his arm.

"Where will we go?" asked Humpy.

"Are you going with me?"

"Yes, I want that money."

"You shall have it. You have fairly earned it, and I'll see that you get it, if I have to pay it out of my own pocket."

"I shan't go back," said Humpy.

"Why not?"

"He'll know I let you out. He'll murder me if I go back."

"I'll be your friend. I'll get you something to do," said Rufus.

"Will you?" said the hunchback, brightening up.

"Yes. I won't forget the service you have done me."

Rufus had hardly got out these words when Humpy clutched him violently by the arm, and pulled him into a passageway, the door of which was open to the street.

"What's that for?" demanded Rufus, inclined to be angry.

Humpy put his finger to his lip, and pointed to the street. On the opposite sidewalk Rufus saw Smith sauntering easily along with a cigar in his mouth.

CHAPTER XXIV.
HOW RUFUS GOT BACK

It happened that Smith espied the man whom he wished to meet, from the car-window, just as it turned into Canal Street. He got out, therefore, and, adjourning to a whiskey saloon, the two discussed a matter of business in which they were jointly interested, and then separated. Thus Smith was enabled to return home sooner than he had anticipated. He little suspected that his prisoner had escaped, as he walked complacently by on the opposite sidewalk.

"It's lucky I saw him," said Humpy. "He might have nabbed us."

"He wouldn't have nabbed me," said Rufus, resolutely. "He'd have found it hard work to get me back."

"He's stronger than you," said Humpy, doubtfully.

"I'd have called a copp, then," said Rufus, using his old word for policeman.

"He'll kill me if he ever gets hold of me," said Humpy, shuddering. "He horsewhipped me yesterday."

"Then he's a brute," said Rufus, who could not help feeling a degree of sympathy for the deformed boy, who had done him such good service.

"He never did it before," said Humpy. "That's what made me turn against him."

"And you won't go back to him?"

"Never!" said Humpy, decidedly. "He'll know I let you out."

"What's your name?" asked Rufus, remembering that he had never heard the name of his guide.

"They call me Humpy," said the deformed boy, flushing a little. He had got hardened to the name, he thought; but now that Rufus asked him, he answered with a feeling of shame and reluctance.

"Haven't you another name? I don't like to call you that."

"My name is William Norton, but I've most forgot it, it's so long since anybody ever called me so."

"Then I'll call you so. I like it better than the other. Have you made up your mind what to do, now you've left your old place?"

"Yes, I'm going out West,—to Chicago maybe."

"Why do you leave New York?"

"I want to get away from him," said William, indicating his old employer by a backward jerk of his finger. "If I stay here, he'll get hold of me."

"Perhaps you are right; but you needn't go so far as Chicago. Philadelphia would do."

"He goes there sometimes."

"What will you do in Chicago?"

"I'll get along. There's a good many things I can do,—black boots, sell papers, smash baggage, and so on. Besides, I'll have some money."

"The fifty dollars I am to give you?"

"I've got more besides," said Humpy, lowering his voice. Looking around cautiously, lest he might be observed, he drew out the calico bag which contained his savings, and showed to Rufus.

"There's twenty dollars in that," he said, jingling the coins with an air of satisfaction. "That'll make seventy when you've paid me."

"I'm glad you've got so much, William. Where did you get it all?"

"I saved it up. He paid me fifty cents a week, and gave me an extra quarter or so sometimes when he felt good-natured. I saved it all up, and here it is."

"When did you begin saving?"

"Six months ago. I used to spend all my money for oysters and cigars, but somebody told me smokin' would stop me from growin', and I gave it up."

"You did right. I used to smoke sometimes; but I stopped. It don't do a boy any good."

"Are you rich?" asked Humpy.

"No. What makes you ask?"

"You wear nice clo'es. Besides, you are goin' to pay me fifty dollars."

"I'm worth five hundred dollars," said Rufus, with satisfaction.

"That's a good deal," said Humpy, enviously. "I'd feel rich if I had so much."

"You'll be worth a good deal more some time, I hope."

"I hope so, but it'll be a good while."

While this conversation had been going on, the boys had been walking leisurely. But Rufus, who was anxious to restore the tin box as soon as possible, now proposed to ride.

"We'll jump aboard the next car, William," he said. "I'll pay the fare."

"Where are you goin'?"

"To Mr. Turner's office, to return the box."

"He won't think I had anything to do with stealin' it, will he?"

"No; I'll take care he doesn't."

They jumped on board the next car, and before long reached the termination of the car route, at the junction of Vesey Street and Broadway.

"Where's the place you're goin' to?" asked Humpy.

"In Wall Street. We'll be there in ten minutes."

The boys proceeded down Broadway, and in rather less than ten minutes, Rufus, followed by Humpy, entered his employer's office.

His arrival created a sensation.

"I am glad to see you back, Rufus," said Mr. Turner, coming forward, and shaking his hand cordially.

The clerks left their desks, and greeted him in a friendly manner.

"I've brought back the tin box, Mr. Turner," said Rufus. "I told you I'd get it back, and I have," he added, with pardonable pride.

"How did you recover it? Tell me all about it."

"This boy helped me," said Rufus, directing attention to Humpy, who had kept himself in the background. "But for him I should still be a prisoner, closely confined and guarded."

"He shall be rewarded," said the banker. "What is his name?"

"William Morton."

Mr. Turner took the boy's hand kindly, dirty though it was, and said, "I will bear you in mind, my lad," in a tone which made Humpy, who before felt awkward and uncertain of a welcome, quite at his ease.

"Now for your story, Rufus," said the banker. "I am curious to hear your adventures. So you were a prisoner?"

"Yes, sir," answered Rufus, and forthwith commenced a clear and straightforward account of his experiences, which need not be repeated. He wound up by saying that he had promised Humpy fifty dollars in return for his assistance.

"Your promise shall be kept," said Mr. Turner. "I will pay you the money now, if you wish," he added, turning to Humpy. "I would advise you to put most of it in a savings-bank, as you are liable to be robbed, or to lose it."

"I'll put it in as soon as I get to Chicago," said Humpy.

"Are you going there?"

Rufus explained why the boy wished to leave New York.

"Do you want to start at once?"

"I'd like to."

"Then, Rufus, I think you had better go with him, and buy his ticket. You may also buy him a suit of clothes at my expense."

"Thank you, sir," said Humpy, gratefully.

"If you can spare me, Mr. Turner," said Rufus, "I would like to go home first, and let them know that I am safe."

"Certainly. That reminds me that a lady—was it your aunt?—was in the office an hour ago, asking for you."

"It was Miss Manning."

"I promised to let you go home when you appeared, and I think you had better do so at once to relieve the anxiety of your friends."

"Thank you, sir;" and Rufus was about to leave the office, when a thought occurred to him, and he turned back.

"I didn't think to tell you that the money had been taken out," he said.

"So I supposed. I will open the box."

The box being opened, it was discovered also that the government bonds were missing.

"That's too much to lose," said the banker. "What is the number of the house in which you were confined?"

Rufus was able to give it, having judged that it would be wanted.

"I shall give information to the police, and see what can be done towards recovering the bonds."

"Shall I go to the police-office for you, Mr. Turner?"

"No, you can go home at once. Then accompany this boy to a clothing-store, and afterwards to the Erie Railroad Station, where you may buy him a through ticket to Chicago. Here is the necessary money;" and Mr. Turner placed a roll of bills in the hands of our hero.

"Am I to buy the railroad ticket, also, out of this?"

"Yes. William shall have his fifty dollars clear to start on when he gets there."

Miss Manning had nearly got through with the morning lessons, when a quick step was heard ascending the stairs two or three at a time. Rose let drop the arithmetic, from which she had been reciting, and exclaimed, in glad excitement, "That's Rufie, I know it is!"

The door opened, and she was proved to be correct.

"Where've you been, Rufie?" exclaimed his sister, throwing her arms around his neck.

"Mr. Martin carried me off, Rosy."

"I knew he would; but you said you was too big."

"He was smarter than I thought for. Sit down, Rosy, and I'll tell you all about it. Were you anxious about me, Miss Manning?"

"Yes, Rufus. I don't mind saying now that I was, though I would not confess it to Rose, who fretted enough for you without."

So the story had to be told again, and was listened to, I need not say, with breathless interest.

"You won't let him catch you again, will you, Rufie?" said Rose, anxiously, when it was finished.

"Not if I know myself, Rosy," answered Rufus. "That can't be done twice. But I've got to be going. I've got ever so much to do. I'll be back to dinner at six."

He hastened downstairs, and rejoined Humpy, who had been waiting for him in the street.

CHAPTER XXV.
UNPLEASANT DISCOVERIES

Smith did not go home immediately. He intended to do so, but happened to think of an errand, and this delayed him for an hour or two.

When he entered the house, he looked around for his errand-boy, but looked in vain.

"Humpy!" he called out in a voice which could be heard all over the house.

There was no answer. Smith, who was not remarkable for patience, began to grow angry.

"Very likely the young rascal is in his room," he said to himself. "I'll stir him up."

He took the whip and ascended the stairs two or three at a time. Arrived in the attic, he peered into Humpy's room, but, to his disappointment, saw nobody.

"The little villain got tired of waiting, and went out, thinking I couldn't find him out," he muttered. "He shall have a taste of the whip when he comes back."

He went downstairs more slowly than he ascended. He was considerably irritated, and in a state that required an object to vent his anger upon. Under these circumstances his prisoner naturally occurred to him. He had the proper key in his pocket, and, stopping on the second floor, he opened the door of the chamber in which our hero had been confined. His anger may be imagined when he found it untenanted. It was not very dignified, but Smith began to stamp in his vexation, and lash with his whip an unoffending chair in which Rufus ought to have been seated.

"I wish it was that young villain!" muttered Smith, scowling at the chair, and lashing it harder. "I'd teach him to run away! I'd make him howl!"

Smith was considerably discomposed. Things were going decidedly against him. Besides, the escape of Rufus might entail serious consequences, if he should give information to the police about the place of his captivity. A visit from these officials was an honor which Smith felt disposed respectfully, but firmly, to decline. Unfortunately, however, policemen are not sensitive, and are very apt to intrude where they are not wanted. A visit to Smith's abode might lead to unpleasant discoveries, as he very well knew, and he could not easily decide what course it would be best for him to pursue. He inferred at once that Humpy had been bought over, and had released the prisoner, otherwise he would, undoubtedly, have detected or frustrated our hero's attempt to escape. This did not inspire very amiable feelings towards Humpy, whom it would have yielded him great satisfaction to get into his power. But Humpy had disappeared, and that satisfaction was not to be had.

Mingled with Smith's anger was a feeling of surprise. Humpy had been a good while in his employ, and he had reposed entire confidence in his fidelity. He might have continued to do so but for the brutal assault upon the boy recorded in a previous chapter. He did not think of this, however, or guess the effect it had produced on the mind of the deformed errand-boy.

"I think I had better get out of the city a week or two till this blows over," thought Smith. "I guess I'll take the afternoon train for Philadelphia."

This was a wise resolution; but Smith made one mistake. He ought to have put it into effect at once. At that very moment information was lodged at the office of police, which threatened serious consequences to him; but of this he was ignorant. He had no idea that Rufus would act so promptly.

In spite of his anger Smith was hungry. His morning walk had given him an excellent appetite, and he began to think about dinner. As, on account of the unlawful occupation in which he was engaged, he did not think it prudent to employ a cook, who might gossip about his affairs, he generally devolved the task of preparing the dinner upon Humpy, whom he had taught to cook eggs, broil beef-steak, make coffee, fry potatoes, and perform other simple culinary duties. Now that Humpy was gone, he was obliged to do this work himself.

He looked into the pantry, and found half-a-dozen eggs, and a slice of steak. These he proceeded to cook. He had nearly finished his unaccustomed task when the door opened, and Martin returned, with his nose a little redder than usual, and his general appearance somewhat disordered by haste.

"What brings you here so soon?" asked Smith, in surprise. "What's the matter?"

"I came near gettin' nabbed; that's what's the matter," said Martin.

"How did that happen?"

"I went into a cigar-store near the ferry in Jersey City," said Martin, "and asked for a couple of cigars,—twenty-cent ones. I took 'em, and handed in one of your ten-dollar bills. The chap looked hard at it, and then at me, and said he'd have to go out and get it changed. I looked across the street, and saw him goin' to the police-office. I thought I'd better leave, and made for the ferry. The boat was just goin'. When we'd got a little ways out, I saw the cigar man standin' on the drop with a copp at his elbow."

"You'd better not go to Jersey City again," said Smith.

"I don't mean to," said Martin. "Have you got enough dinner for me? I'm as hungry as a dog."

"Yes, there's dinner enough for two, and that's all there is to eat it."

Something significant in his employer's tone struck Martin.

"There's the boy upstairs," he said.

"There isn't any boy upstairs."

"You haven't let him go?" queried Martin, staring open-mouthed at the speaker.

"No, he got away while I was out this morning,—the more fool I for leaving him."

"But there was Humpy. How did the boy get away without his seeing him?"

"Humpy's gone too."

"You don't say!" ejaculated Martin.

"Yes, I do."

"What you goin' to do about it?" inquired Martin, hopelessly.

"I'll half kill either of the little rascals when I get hold of them," said Smith, spitefully.

"I'd give something out of my own pocket to get that undootiful son of mine back," chimed in Martin.

"I'll say this for him," said Smith, "he's a good sight smarter than his father."

"I always was unlucky," grumbled Martin. "I aint been treated right."

"If you had been you'd be at Sing Sing," returned Smith, amiably.

"Smith," said Martin, with drunken dignity, for he was somewhat under the influence of a liberal morning dram, "you'd ought to respect the feelin's of a gentleman."

"Where's the gentleman? I don't see him," responded Smith, in a sarcastic tone. "If you aint too much of a gentleman to do your share of the work, just draw out the table and put the cloth on."

This Martin, who was hungry, did with equal alacrity and awkwardness, showing the latter by over-turning a pile of plates, which fell with a fatal crash upon the floor.

"Just like your awkwardness, you drunken brute!" exclaimed Smith, provoked.

Martin did not reply, but looked ruefully at the heap of broken crockery, which he attributed, like his other misfortunes, to the ill-treatment of the world, and meekly got upon his knees and gathered up the pieces.

At length dinner was ready. Martin, in spite of an ungrateful world, ate with an appetite truly surprising, so that his companion felt called upon to remonstrate.

"I hope you'll leave a little for me. It's just possible that I might like to eat a little something myself."

"I didn't eat much breakfast," said Martin, apologetically.

"You'd better lunch outside next time," said his employer. "It will give you a good chance to change money."

"I've tried it at several places," said Martin; "I could do it better if you'd give me some smaller bills. They don't like to change fives and tens."

After dinner was despatched, and the table pushed back, Smith unfolded his plans to Martin. He suggested that it might be a little unsafe to remain at their present quarters for a week or fortnight to come, and counselled Martin to go to Boston, while he would go to Philadelphia.

"That's the way we'll dodge them," he concluded.

"Just as you say," said Martin. "When do you want me back?"

"I will write you from Philadelphia. You can call at the post-office for a letter in a few days."

"When had I better sell the bond?"

"That reminds me," said Smith. "I will take the box with me."

He went and unlocked the drawer in which the box had been secreted. To his dismay he discovered that it was gone.

"Have you taken the tin box?" he demanded, turning upon Martin with sudden suspicion.

"Isn't it there?" gasped Martin.

"No, it isn't," said Smith, sternly. "Do you know anything about it?"

"I wish I may be killed if I do!" asserted Martin.

"Then what can have become of it?"

"It's my undootiful boy that took it,—I'm sure it is," exclaimed Martin, with sudden conviction.

"He had no key."

"Humpy got him one, then."

Just then Smith espied on the floor some scraps of wax. They told the story.

"You're right," he said, with an oath. "We've been taken in worse than I thought. The best thing we can do is to get away as soon as possible."

They made a few hurried preparations, and left the house in company. But they were too late. A couple of officers, who were waiting outside, stepped up to them, as they set foot on the sidewalk, and said, quietly, "You must come with us."

"What for?" demanded Smith, inclined to show fight.

"You'd better come quietly. You are charged with stealing a box containing valuables."

"That's the man that did it," said Smith, pointing to Martin. "He's the one you want."

"He put me up to it, and shared the money," retorted Martin.

"You're both wanted," said the officer. "You'll have a chance to tell your story hereafter."

As this winds up the connection of these two worthies with our story, it may be added here that they were found guilty, not only of the robbery, but of manufacturing and disseminating counterfeit money, and were sentenced to Sing Sing for a term of years. The bonds were found upon them, and restored to Mr. Vanderpool.

Thus the world persists in its ill-treatment of our friend, James Martin. Still I cannot help thinking that, if he had been a sober and industrious man, he would have had much less occasion to complain.