Chapter XXIII The Train Boy by Jr. Horatio Alger
A CATASTROPHE
"All the latest magazines and papers! Harper's, Frank Leslie's, the New York Weekly!"
Of course the speaker was Paul, and he was making his rounds on the succeeding day in the Milwaukee train.
"Come here, my boy. Let me see what you have got."
The speaker was an elderly gentleman, with gray hair and beard, tall and portly. His handsome suit of the finest broadcloth, the solid gold chain, as thick almost as a cable, that spanned his waistcoat, and his general air, indicated prosperity and wealth.
Paul recognized him as a frequent traveler on his train. He even knew his name, and was aware that he was a substantial Chicago manufacturer, who had a branch establishment at Milwaukee.
The name of Alexander Bradford was well known in business circles, and his name was at any time good at the bank where he dealt for a hundred thousand dollars, while the sum of his wealth was generally estimated at considerably over a million.
"Certainly, Mr. Bradford," answered Paul, politely, as he approached the rich man with alacrity.
"Ha, you know my name," said Mr. Bradford.
"Oh, yes, sir; I have seen you often on the train."
"I can return the compliment, my young friend," said Bradford, smiling, "but I am not familiar with your name."
"My name is not quite so well known as yours, Mr. Bradford. I am Paul Palmer, at your service!"
"Paul Palmer! The name sounds very well, my boy. Some day it may be well known, too. I was not very conspicuous myself at your age. Come, now, how much do you manage to earn in the course of a week?"
"I seldom fall short of seven dollars. Sometimes I get up as high as ten."
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
"At your age I was earning about half as much as you."
"But you didn't depend on it, sir?"
"Yes, I did. I was a poor boy; had to paddle my own canoe, just as you are doing—had a mother to help, too."
"I have a mother and sister to assist," returned Paul.
"You don't say so?" Mr. Bradford remarked, surveying Paul with increased interest. "Then your father is not living?"
"No, sir."
"I see you are a good boy. Do you give most of your wages to your mother?"
"Yes, sir."
"And you don't think it hard, eh? You don't feel as if you'd rather spend it on yourself, eh?"
"If my mother didn't need it, I should certainly like to spend a little more on myself, but I am glad to feel that I am able to take care of her."
"That's well, my boy; I quite approve of that. By the way—it was you, I believe, who caught the pickpocket that took Miss Dearborn's money?"
"Yes, sir. Were you on the train at the time?"
"Yes; I was in the same car. It did you a great deal of credit. You are evidently sharp."
"Thank you, sir."
"I suppose you don't always expect to be a train boy?"
"I think I shall have to retire by the time I reach fifty, sir; I can't very well pass for a boy then."
"Ho, ho!" laughed the old gentleman, appreciating the joke. "I should say not. And what are you looking to do in place of it?"
"I should like to get a place in a counting-room or store," said Paul; "but at present I couldn't afford to take such a situation."
"It would lead to more."
"Yes, sir; but I could not expect at first to earn more than half as much as I do on the train. While I have my mother and sister to support, I do not dare to make a change."
"Very true," said the old gentleman, thoughtfully.
Remaining silent, Paul was about to move on, when Mr. Bradford called him back.
"Stay, my young friend," he said; "I haven't made a purchase yet."
He selected an illustrated paper and a magazine, and drew from his vest-pocket a two-dollar bill, which he handed to our hero.
"Ten and thirty-five are forty-five," said Paul, in a business-like tone. "I must give you a dollar and fifty-five cents in change."
"Never mind, Paul," said Mr. Bradford, waving his hand. "Keep it for yourself, or, rather, give it to your mother."
"Thank you, sir," said Paul, gratefully, for the gift was equal to his profits for a good day's work.
He was about to resume his walk through the car when there was a sudden shock.
Passengers were hurled from their seats; there were screams of fright and pain, and a confusion hard to describe.
The train had run off the track!