Read Dave Dashaway the Young Aviator; Or, In the Clouds for Fame and Fortune Page 8


  CHAPTER VII

  ROBBED

  “Well that’s the hardest part of it over and done with,” declared Dave,as he walked into the railroad depot at Brompton.

  The youth felt pretty much encouraged. His foot had mended, he hadearned ten dollars, and had won a good friend. He had got safely awayfrom Brookville by a route his pursuers would never suspect him oftaking.

  “More than all, best of all,” spoke Dave with longing and satisfaction,“I’m well started for Fairfield and the airships.”

  Dave found the depot almost deserted. A few travelers were nodding onthe benches in the passengers room, waiting for a late local train goingnorth. The ticket office was closed, but the depot policeman was onduty. Dave approached this official.

  “What about a train for Fairfield?” he spoke.

  “Last one gone two hours ago.”

  “When is the next train?”

  “8:15 A. M.”

  Dave was disappointed. That was nearly a third of a day ahead. It wouldbe a long wait, but he decided to make the best of it. He selected asnug seat in a dark corner and began to nod before he was aware of it.

  “Here, rout out,” sounded a gruff voice in his ear, and he was shakenrudely.

  “Oh—yes, I was asleep,” mumbled Dave, recognizing the depot policeman.

  “Going to close up. No more trains either way to-night,” he said.

  “But I’m waiting for the Fairfield train.”

  “Can’t do it here. Against the rules. Come back in the morning.”

  “Where can I go?”

  “Why, to a hotel, of course. There’s lots of them within a stone’sthrow.”

  Dave got to his feet and out of the depot. He had unexpectedly receiveda great deal more money than it would take to get him to Fairfield. Hetreasured his little hoard, though. The idea of saving the price of anight’s lodging had pleased him.

  “What do I care for a bed,” he told himself as he came out of the depotinto the starry night. “I can sleep anywhere,” and Dave made for thedeep entrance to a store and sat down upon its step. Almost instantly,however, a policeman in uniform stepped out of the deep shadow of aneighboring doorway, on the lookout for stragglers.

  “You’ll have to move on, sonny,” he said.

  “All right,” assented Dave with a comical smile. “I wouldn’t hurt thoseiron steps, though.”

  Dave walked on till he came to a big building. It bore the sign: “EmpireHotel.” Glancing in at the lobby with its elegant appointments Daveshrugged his shoulders and walked on.

  “That’s too rich for my blood, even if I do feel like a millionaire,” hesmiled. “Something more modest for me.”

  Finally Dave reached a respectable appearing hotel that looked secondclass and cheap. He entered the lobby and went up to the clerk’s desk.

  “How much do you charge for a night’s lodging?” he asked.

  “Fifty cents.”

  “I guess I’ll stay, then.”

  “Got any baggage?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Any references?”

  “I should say not!” Dave told himself, and he walked away when the clerkhad explained that they never took in transients without baggage or anintroduction from a responsible party.

  Dave sauntered about leisurely now. He made up his mind to walk aboutall night. At the end of an hour, however, the unfamiliar stonepavements began to remind him of his weak ankle. He noticed anilluminated sign running out from a shabby looking building. It read:“Rooms—twenty-five and fifty cents.”

  “That sounds all right,” reflected Dave, and he ascended a stairwaylighted up by a smoking oil lamp at its top.

  A drowsy, sleepy-eyed young man was lounging in a broken chair behind adesk. At its side were a lot of pigeon holes, and some holding keys.

  “I want to stay here all night,” stated Dave.

  “No one’s hindering you, is there?” observed the young man. “Whatprice?”

  “Twenty-five cents.”

  The young man ran his eye over a portion of the pigeon holes andannounced:

  “Single rooms at that price all gone.”

  “And the best room is fifty cents?”

  “You’ve got it.”

  “That’s too much.”

  “Better go to Tom’s Lodging House,” sneered the fellow. “You’ll find afine ten-cent crowd there, if that’s your style. Tell you, if you don’tmind sharing a room with a boy like yourself I can accommodate you.”

  “Two beds?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Pay it.”

  Dave drew out his money. The young man grumbled at having to change afive dollar but that was soon got through with. Then he handed Dave akey with an iron strip to it, that prevented lodgers from putting it intheir pockets and forgetting to return it.

  “Room 58, fourth floor,” advised the young man, and lounged back intohis chair again. “Be sure to put out your light when you go to bed.”

  Dave climbed up two more flights of rickety stairs. The air of the placewas close. One floor was divided up into as many as a hundred littlebunks, and the snoring was disturbing.

  “I wish I hadn’t come here,” thought Dave, but he kept on to the fourthfloor, made out 58 on a door, and unlocked it and entered a room withone window.

  The light in the hall showed a lamp on a table. There were two narrowbeds in the room, and they did not look particularly uncomfortable. Whenhe lighted the lamp, Dave glanced over at the cot that was occupied.

  Near it was a chair, and over this hung some shabby garments. Dave had aplain view of the sleeping inmate of the bed, and he did not like theface at all. It had a red scar on one cheek, the hair was straggling anduntidy, and, taken altogether, the boy made Dave think of a crowd ofyoung roughs who had run up against him and tried to provoke him into aquarrel in his early midnight wanderings.

  Dave opened the window of the room to let in fresh air, then heundressed. He drew a chair up against his bed and folded his clothesacross it. Then he blew out the light.

  “Feels good to stretch out human like once more, sure enough,” said Davecontentedly.

  Then he groped about on the chair until he found his coat and drew outthe pocket book belonging to Robert King, Aviator.

  “I want to make sure of that,” he mused. “My own money, too. I’llquietly put it all in the pocket book and slip it under my pillow. Thenno one can play any tricks on me without waking me up.”

  Dave worked in the dark. He fished out the bills from his pocket. Thenhe got hold of the silver change he had received down stairs. It wascomposed mainly of dimes and nickles. Just as he was strivingnoiselessly to transfer the handful to the pocket book, bang! rattle!tap! went half a dozen rolling nickles out of his hand.

  “Hello, what’s that?” challenged a sharp suspicious voice, and Dave knewthat the noise made by the falling coins had awakened the sleeper in theother bed.

  Dave was bound to answer. He slipped the pocket book under his pillow,and held tightly the coins remaining in his hand to prevent them fromjingling together.

  “It’s me,” he replied.

  “Who’s me?”

  “Roomer—just come in.”

  “You’re a boy, aren’t you?”

  “Like yourself.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “I did not register,” replied Dave evasively.

  “Humph! don’t want to be sociable, eh? Well, shut up, then.”

  With a grunt the occupant of the other cot seemed to flounce over andresume his slumbers. Dave did not like the sound of his voice any betterthan he had the look of his face. He hoped the fellow had not heard thecoins drop on the floor. Dave reached out cautiously, groped about,managed to locate several nickels, placed these noiselessly in thepocket book, and was glad that things had quieted down.

  Somehow he felt disturbed and uneasy. He knew that the place was sec
ondclass, and probably housed a good many rough characters. He made up hismind that he would keep awake until daylight, then go back to therailroad depot. He heard two and then three o’clock strike from someneighboring bell tower. By four o’clock he was fast asleep.

  In a dreamy sort of a daze, his next waking action was lying with hiseyes closed and counting seven strokes of a bell.

  “Oh, dear, this won’t do at all,” cried Dave, leaping from the bed tothe floor. “Why, I’ll miss the train to Fairfield if I don’t move sharp.Hello—hello!”

  Dave came to a standstill, posed like a statue. He stared at the chairby the side of the bed. His clothes were gone!

  He rubbed his eyes and looked again. In their stead, lying scatteredcarelessly on the floor, were the clothes belonging to his boy roommate.

  In a second a dreadful flash of dismay and fear came to Dave’s mind. Hesprang at the bed he had just left and lifted the pillow quickly.

  “Gone! All gone!” he gasped turning cold all over. “I’ve been robbed!”

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