CHAPTER VIII.
GRAHAM IN HIS TRUE COLORS.
Tom strayed into a street leading from the main thoroughfare. Presentlyhe came to a brilliantly-lighted liquor saloon. As he paused in front ofthe door, a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder, and, looking up, hemet the glance of a well-dressed gentleman, rather portly, whoseflushed face and uncertain gait indicated his condition. He leanedrather heavily upon Tom, apparently for support, for he seemed to havebeen drinking more than was good for him.
"My young friend," he said, "come in and take a drink."
"Thank you, sir, but I would rather not," said Tom, startled.
"It won't hurt you. It don't hurt me."
As he uttered these last words he came near falling. In his effort tosave himself he clutched Tom by the arm, and nearly pulled him over. Ourhero was anxious to get away.
"Are you sure it don't hurt you?" he could not help saying.
"Do you think I'm drunk?" demanded the other.
"I think you've taken more than is good for you, sir," Tom answeredbravely.
"I guess you're right," muttered the gentleman, trying to stand upright."The drink's gone to my legs. That's strange. Does it ever go to yourlegs?"
"I never drink, sir."
"You're a most extraor'nary young man," hiccoughed Tom's newacquaintance.
"I must bid you good-night, sir," said our hero, anxious to get away.
"Don't go. I can't get home alone."
"Where do you live, sir?"
"I live in the country."
"Are you staying at a hotel?"
"Yes--Pittsburg House. Know Pittsburg House?"
"Yes, sir. I am staying there myself. Shall I lead you there? You'dbetter not drink any more."
"Jus' you say, my young frien'. You know best."
It was not a pleasant, or, indeed, an easy task to lead home theinebriate, for he leaned heavily on Tom, and, being a large man, it wasas much as our hero could do to get him along. As they were walkingalong Tom caught sight of his roommate, Milton Graham, just turning intoa saloon, in company with two other young men. They were laughingloudly, and seemed in high spirits. Graham did not recognize Tom.
"I hope he won't come home drunk," thought our hero. "It seems to me itis fashionable to drink here."
Tom's experience of city life was very limited. It was not long beforehe learned that Pittsburg was by no means exceptional in this respect.
He ushered his companion safely into the hotel, and then a servant tookcharge of him, and led him to his room. Tom sat up a little whilelonger, reading a paper he found in the office, and then went to bed.
"I suppose Mr. Graham will come home late," he said to himself. "I mustleave the door unlocked."
He soon went to sleep. How long he slept he did not know, but suddenlyawoke after an interval. Opening his eyes he became conscious thatGraham had returned. He discovered something more. His roommate,partially undressed, and with his back turned to Tom, was engaged insearching our hero's pockets. This discovery set Tom broad awake atonce. He was not frightened, but rather amused when he thought ofGraham's disappointment. He did not think it best to speak, butcounterfeited sleep.
"I wonder where the boy keeps his money," he heard Graham mutter."Perhaps it is in his coat pocket. No, there is nothing but ahandkerchief. He's more careful than I gave him credit for. Perhaps itis under his pillow."
He laid down the clothes, and approached the bed. Tom, with some effort,kept his eyes firmly closed.
Graham slid his hand lightly under the pillow, but withdrew it with allexclamation of disappointment.
"He must have some money," he muttered. "Ah, I have it! It is in hisvalise."
He approached Tom's valise, but it was locked. He drew out a bunch ofkeys, and tried one after the other, but in vain. Our hero feared hemight resort to violent means of opening it, and turned in bed. Grahamwheeled round quickly.
Tom stretched, and opened his eyes languidly.
"Is that you, Mr. Graham?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Graham nonchalantly, proceeding to undress himself."Have you been abed long?"
"I don't know," answered Tom. "What time is it?"
"Haven't you got a watch?"
"No, I am not rich enough."
"It is one o'clock. I hadn't seen my friend for a long time, andcouldn't get away till late. By the way, have you got a key about you? Ican't open my carpetbag."
Tom thought of suggesting the bunch of keys in Graham's pocket, butdecided not to.
"My key is in my pants' pocket."
"Suppose you get it," said Graham. "I don't like to feel in anotherperson's pocket. There might be some money there."
This was very scrupulous for one who had already searched all Tom'spockets thoroughly.
Our hero got up, and got the key for his roommate.
"No, it won't fit," said the young man, after a brief trial. "It is toolarge."
Tom replaced the key in his pocket, confident that Graham would in thecourse of the night use it to open his valise. This, however, did nottrouble him.
"He won't think it worth while to steal my shirts or stockings," hereflected, "and the handkerchiefs are not worth taking."
"It will be rather awkward if I can't find my keys," said Grahamcraftily. "I keep my money in my valise."
He thought his unsophisticated companion would reveal in turn where hekept his money; but Tom only said, "That is a good place," and, turningover, closed his eyes again.
During the night Tom's valise was opened, as he ascertained in a simpleway. In the morning he found that the key was in the right hand-pocketinstead of the left, in which he had placed it.
Upon Graham's last failure he began to suspect what Tom had done withhis money.
"The boy isn't so green as I thought," he said to himself. "Curse hisprudence! I must get the money somehow, for I am precious hard up."
He got up early, when Tom was yet asleep, and went down to the office.
"Good morning," he said to the clerk affably.
"Good morning, sir."
"My young friend and roommate left his money with you last night. Pleasedeliver it to me."
"What is the number of your room?" asked the clerk quietly.
"No. 16. Tom Nelson is my roommate."
"Why doesn't he come for it himself?" inquired the hotel clerk, with asearching glance at Graham.
"He wishes me to buy his steamboat ticket," answered Graham coolly. "Heis going down the river in my charge."
"Are you his guardian?"
"Yes," answered Graham, with cool effrontery. "He is the son of anacquaintance of mine, and I naturally feel an interest in the boy."
"He told me he never met you till yesterday."
Graham was rather taken aback, but he recovered himself quickly.
"That's pretty cool in Tom," he returned, shrugging his shoulders. "Iunderstand it, though."
"I am glad you do," said the clerk sarcastically, "for it doesn't lookto me at all consistent with what you represent."
"The fact is," said Graham plausibly, "Tom has a feeling ofindependence, and doesn't like to have it supposed that he is underanybody's protection. That accounts for what he told you. It isn'tright, though, to misrepresent. I must give him a scolding. I am in alittle of a hurry, so if you will kindly give me the boy's money----"
"It won't do, Mr. Graham," said the clerk, very firmly. "The money wasput in our charge by the boy, and it will be delivered only to him."
"You seem to be very suspicious," said Graham loftily. "Hand me my bill,if you please. I will breakfast elsewhere."
The bill was made out, and paid. Five minutes later Milton Graham, withan air of outraged virtue, stalked out of the hotel, quite forgettingthe young friend who was under his charge.
When Tom came down-stairs he was told of the attempt to get possessionof his money.
"I am much obliged to you for not letting him have it," he said. "Hesearched my clothes and valise during the night, but
I said nothing, forI knew he would find nothing worth taking."
"He is a dangerous companion. If you ever meet him again, I advise youto give him a wide berth."
"I certainly shall follow your advice. If you had not warned me againsthim he would have stolen my money during the night."