Adventures Of Tad

AtrniOR of "Pepper Adams,' "Blown Out to Sea," "Paul Ghafton," Etc. [Covvrighted, 1X80, by D. Lothrop ê Co., and PublUhed by Special Arrangement. ,1 C'HAPTER I. iíTV " 'T was ncar the close of a blustering March day, and the seats about the big cylindcr stove in the wai t in groom of the Broad Street station in the city of Philadelphia were in great demand. One of them was occupied by Tad Thorne.who, though he had no business there, was enjoying the warmth as only a small, fourteen-yearold boy can do, after being all day in the city streets crying parlor matches at three cents per box - "two for five." Tad's enjoyment was tempered by a littlc mental worry, as a matter of course. Nobody is entirely happy in this world, and as he warmed himself Tad was obliged to keep a watchful eye on the door of the porter's room opposite. It was the duty of that colored functionary to assist tramps and vagrant boys from the waiting-room, with scant ceremony. "Last night he said he'd bounce me if he caught me here again," mused Tad, advancing first one patched shoe and then the other toward the stove, "but I shouldn't think the Corporation would grudge what little fire it takes to warm me." For a time Tad rcmained in undisturbed comfort. So many persons were constantly coming and going that no one took particular notice of the thinly-dressed,pale-facedlad who occasionally stretched his fingers caressingly toward the glowing coals. "ït's the first time I've been warm clear through sinc last August - I wish't I could hold heat like a hot brick does," Tad soliloquized, as with an involuntary shiver he thought of ha ving to start out in the chilly air again. "Is there no other place where you can go and warm yourself, besides a waiting-room only intended for the-or - patrons of the railroad?" asked a tall, aristocratie - looking gentleman, with iron-gray hair, and a very dignitíed manner, who occupied the next seat to the one in which ïad was sitting. He spoko severely and f rowned at Tad, as though the boy's presence annoyed him. If his address had been more kindlv, Tad'a roply would havo been more respectful. As it was, Tad seowled a 'little. "Hiere s piucos enongh, I s pose - only thcy don't happen to 'low boys who hasn't any business there, round - Bpecially if they ain't drcssed any better'n I ani," he answered, sullenly, glanoing involuntarily down at himself as he spoke. The tall man muttered Boniething about "confounded nuisance," but made no further reply. And as he rose, giving a nervous glanee at the elock, Tad noticed that he wore a long gray ulster, over a very nice suit of clothes, while at one side of the seat he had vacated lay his traveling rug in a shawl-strap, and a small alligatorskin sachel with nickel-plate mountings. Tad was wondering within himself ■whether he ever knew wha it was to be homeless, cold and hungry when he Was a boy, when his mcditations wnv disturbed by the violent ringing of a hand-bell, aoeonijnnied by the hoarse roice of one of the railroad officials calling out Bometbing, of whieh the words "expresa" and "passengers" were alone intelligible to Tad's ear. This was followed by the usual frantic rush toward the great swing doors leading into the depot. The tall gentleman sprang nervously to his feet, and, snatching up his traveling rug, shot through the doorway as tliough he had bat five seconds in wbioh to board a train that did not start for ten minutes, sehedule time. "Hi, there!" eried Tad after him, "you've left your little saehel!" but the gentleman was beyond cali. So, seizing the hand-bag from the next seat, Tad elbowed his way through the throng, into the depot, in hot pursuit of him of the flowing ulster. Just inside the swing doors stood a policeman of imposing presence. He was a largo fat man but extremely zealous, and his professional instincta were at once roused at the sight of a shabbily-dressed boy dodging in and out of the crowd, with a niekel-plated alligator-skin saehel in his hand. ping hastily forward he laid a heavy hand on Tad's shoulder. Now, after the manner of h!s kind, Tad regarded all policemen as natural foes to be feared - and, as far as possible, avoided. So, no sooner did he reeognize the dreaded touch than, slipping eel-liko from his would-be captor' s grasp, Tad, with an inarticulate cry of terror, dove directly under the ■vvheels of the neare.st train. The cars were at a stand-still, of course, but had they been in motion, I am not so sure but Tad would have acted exactly the same, so great was his fear of arrest. True, in theory, conscious innocenee is generally supposed to show a bold front, but unfortunately this is not always the case in practice, particularly in an issue between a big policeman and asmallboy. Tad emerged on the opposite side of the track, with the encouraging cry of "Stop, thief" ringing in his ears, just in time to confront the bluecoated official, who, in some inexplicable wv, had reached the suot as ly as himself. " Thore he is!" shouted a young man, whom Tad had notioed in the waiting-room a little before, and, hesitating for a brief second, the hunted lad, who still clung to the cause of his trouble, sprang upon the platform of a parlor-car attached to the waiting train. Flinging open the door, he darted in, meaning, if possible, to pass through to the other end, where, slipping off, he hoped to be able to lose himself In the crowd. Vain hope! As he hurried between the rows of as jet unoccupied chairs, the rattle of the conductor' s key was heard in the rear door at which he was hoping to escape, while the shuffle of feet, and sound of voices, at the door which he had entered, told Tad that he was fairly trapped. Glancing despairingly about him, Tad's quick eye disco vered at least a temporary hiding-place. Dropping on nis Knees, ne crawlecl behind the nearest of the revolving chairs, which, fortunately for him, was the one next the door of entrance. Concealed by its arching back, Tad made himself as small as possible in the angle formed by the end of the compartment and side of the car, where he awaited the result in fear and trembling. He heard the sound of masculine feet and the rustle of silken skirts, blended with a subdued murmur of voices as the parlor-car began to fill up. A rather stout lady, richly dressed, paused beside the chair behind which Tad was hidden. "It is so warm here, John, I shall not need to keep on my circular," she said, in a somewhat languid tone. Tad could not distinctly see the person thus addressod, but by the way he threw himsolf into the chair and immediately unfolded a newspaper, from behind which he vouchsafed a brief grimt in reply, Tad imagined hiin to be the lady's husband. Suspendingher heavy, fur-lined cloak from a hook at the compartment end, the lady patted and pulled its long folds into place behind the ehair-back, and for a moment Tad's heart almost Btopped beating, as her gloved fingers once or twice actually grazed his hair. But he remalned undiscovered, and, better still, the sheltering garment helped to hide Mm more effectually than before, and, as its owner seated herself with a little sigh of relief, Tad chuokled gleefully as he heard the receding tread of the big policeman, who, after casting a comprehensive glance about the car, was obliged to beat a hasty retreat - because - The cars were in motion! In his excitement the possibility of such a contingency had entirely escaped Tad's mind. He was almost on the point of Berambllng to his feet and calling out to the conductor to stop the train, but, resiembering the unpleasant resulta which would ftobably follow such a procedure, Tad sank helplessly back into h!s niche. He feit as though tho chances were that the conductor wonld not believe his story, and he would probably be given into custody- bag and baggage- at the next station. So, of two evils, he chose the one whioh seemed the least, comforting himaelf with the assurance that the train would probably arrive at its destination very soon, when he could slip off unobserved. The voice of Tad's lady- as he mentally tenned her- disturbcd his perplexod rêverie. "What time do we get in, John, dearf' she asked, as she settled her feet on the comfortable hassock. From behind his paper "John.dear," was understood to matter that, provided the train didn't run off tho truck or over an embankment, they were due about eight a. m. on the following morning in the city of Boston ! " Boston, oh gimminy crickets! I have been and gone and done it now!" gasped poor Tad, who in moments of excitement was apt to use language whicb at other times he rather prided himself on avoiding, because his mother used to disHke it so. Tad had a vague impression tliat Boston was a sort of large country town in a far-off región known as "down Bast" Further than this he knew not, except that it was sometimes called the "Hub," and seemed to be a sort of headquarters for culture - whatever that was - and baked beans. At least so he read in the city papers. But, in his small way, Tad was something of a philosopher. He had not yet learned that through seeming misfortunes the great Fatherhood leads His children in just the way that proves best in the end - this knowledge was to come. All he could do was to keep from useless fretting, and accept the situation as coolly as possible. Therefore, settling down as comfortably as he could, Tad gave himself up to hard thinking, and, quite naturally, his mind went backward as well as forward. Tad's father had been a soldier in the regular army; and when, a few months before, the news had arrived that he was killed in a skirmish with the mans on the frontier, his mother, never very strong, had seemeil to reeeive her own death-blow. She grew paler and thinner, till at length she had to give up werk, f rom laok of gtrength to run her Bewing-machine, which helped to earn their daily bread. And tínally, when the oud came, the sale of the Bewing-machine itself, together with their scanty stock of furniture, barely sufflced to pay the poor woraan's bttrial expenses. It is a common story enough. Hundreds of broken - hearted, overworked, half-starved women all over the land have lived and died after the same fashion, and will till the millennium comes. Yet this fact does not comfort the orphans they leave behind them. Certainly, it was no comfort to Tad, who was nearly wild with grief at the loss of the one being whom he had to love in the wide world. Only for things that his mother said to him before she ien asieep, 1 tear Tad would have drifted into the ways of too many of our city boys who, like him, are left homeless and friendless amid temptation and sin. But the boy had good stuff in him, and, best of all, he held his mothers memory and parting words as something too saered to be forgotten. [ do not claim that he was one of those mmaculate street boys common enough n fiction, but, alas! so rare in fact. By no means. Truth compela me to state that Tad Thorne at the age of fourteen tvas rather rude in speech, quiek-tempered and the owner of a decidedly obstinate disposition, which, however, (ras readily affected by kindly words. STet, do you wonder at his faults? The snly wonder to myself is that Tad did not become a really bad boy; for since his mother's death he had, as one may lay, almost livcd ia the streets. For lad had no home. A friendly newscender gave him lodgings under his periodlcal counter in the city postsffice, in return for which Tad sold papers or ran errands. And in odd moments he had managed to keep soul and body together by blacking boots, peddling matches, carrying valises, holding horses, and a score of other derices known to the average street boy. I have mentioned Tad's faults; now Iet me teil you some of his better qualities. He washonest. cloan-mouthed.and, generalij speaking, truthful, as well as kind-hearted and generous to an extravagant degree. He had attended the night schools - attracted at first by their warmth and comfort - where he learned to read crcditably, spell fairly, ivrite legibly and cipher understandngly. But,with his superiority in many respects over the associates among hom his lot of late had been thrown, Tad, in thinking matters over, had to confess that, in a business point of fiew, he had been any thing but a suceess. The truth is, Tad was not sharp or unscrnpulous enough to compete with his fellows; but this fact he did not recognize. " 1 guess I'm not one of the luoky ones," lie murmurcd, rather ruefully, as he mentally reviewed his many business faltares, wliile tlie swift train, which was bearing him away from the scenc of them all, to fresh fields and pastures new, went thundering on through the darkness toward Boston. Boston! As ïad's thoughts reverted from the past, the name repeated itself over in his mind. " Seems as though I heard mother say once that I had an Aunt Rhoda who lived in Boston, or Bangor, or- anyway, it was a place that began with B, somewhere 'down East,' " mused Tad. Not that he hoped, expected or even desired to meet this, the only relative he knew of in the world. It was enough to remember that she had never held ootnmunicatiou with Mrs. Thorne since her marriage to gome one whom her older sister Rhoda did not like. And a slight oftered to Lis mother was in Tad's eyes an ünpardonable offense. But so much thinking, together with the warmth of the steam-heating pipes at his back and the even, on-rushing movement of the train, began to make Tad droway. Peeping out of his hidingplace, he could see that many of the passengere were disposing themselres for uneasy slumber, and, judging by certain sounds from the chair in front of him, Tad's lady was already in dreamland. So, leaning his head back against the fur-lined cloak which had already served him such a good turn, and, being used to sleeping in all sorts of postures and places, Tad feil fast asleep in no time. Rousing himself at intervals long enough to silently ehange his cramped position, Tad passed the long night in eomparative comfort, until with the dawn of morning all began to shake off their drowsiness, and to struggle into more comfortable positions, as they grumbled about not havIng slept a wink ihiring the night. Tad's lady was not exactly cross, but Tad noticed that she called her husband Mr. Mason, instead of "John, dear," as on the evening before, when she asked him how he had rested. And he also noticed that Mr. Mason's voice was rather sharp as he replied that the confounded chair had giren him three distinct kinks in his backbone, and while economy was well enough in its place, by George! another time he'd have his own way, and take a section in a "sleeper," as sure as his name was John Mason! "So, my lady is 'Mrs. John Masón,'" Tad thought to himself, trying in his imagination to picture her face from the sound of her voiee, and failing entirely. But without well knowing why, he resolved not to forget the name oí the lady -who - as he mentally expressed it- "belonged to the fur-lined eloak. " Other and less pleasant thoughts began to obtriule themselves, as the morning wore on. Now that he was so near his destination, Tad's growing anxiety as to his future movements contrasted rather strongly with his philosophy of the previous evening. "I'llget something to eat, first of all," finally decided Tad, i-esolving not to lay any plans till this important duty had been performed. He had a cash capital of ten cents, together with two boxes of matches as a balance of stock in trade, so that he feit sure of a breakfast - not a luxurious one, it is true - but, like a'stale bun, very filliug for the price. Besides, there was tho sachel - he could readily raise something on it at the pawnbroker's. "But that don't seem to be doing the square thing by the high-toned old party, after all," mused Tad, thoughtfully; "for even if I don't ever run across him again - whieh the needle-in-the-haystack business isn't a circumstance to the chances of doing- the bag isn't mine, after all. I wonder what's inside," he continued, curiously, as he lifted it to his lap- "a box of paper collars, and a tooth-brush, oralot of thousan'-dollar bonds?" But his newly-awakened curiosity remained ungratified. The sachel was securely locked, and its peculiarly-shaped key was probably at that moment in the tall gentleman's pocket, wherever the individual himself might be. [TO BE CONTINUED.]