in which bobby gets into a scrape, and tom spicer turns up again

bobby had a poorer opinion of human nature than ever before. it seemed almost incredible to him that words so fairly spoken as those of tom spicer could be false. he had just risen from a sick bed, where he had had an opportunity for long and serious reflection. tom had promised fairly, and bobby had every reason to suppose he intended to be a good boy. but his promises had been lies. he had never intended to reform, at least not since he had got off his bed of pain. he was mortified and disheartened at the failure of this attempt to restore him to himself.

like a great many older and wiser persons than himself, he was prone to judge the whole human family by a single individual. he did not come to believe that every man was a rascal, but, in more general terms, that there is a great deal more rascality in this world than one would be willing to believe.

with this sage reflection, he dismissed tom from his mind, which very naturally turned again to the air castle which had been so ruthlessly upset. then his opinion of "the rest of mankind" was reversed; and he reflected that if the world were only peopled by angels like annie lee, what a pleasant place it would be to live in. she could not tell a lie, she could not use bad language, she could not steal, or do anything else that was bad; and the prospect was decidedly pleasant. it was very agreeable to turn from tom to annie, and in a moment his air castle was built again, and throned on clouds of gold and purple. i do not know what impossible things he imagined, or how far up in the clouds he would have gone, if the arrival of the train at the city had not interrupted his thoughts, and pitched him down upon the earth again.

bobby was not one of that impracticable class of persons who do nothing but dream; for he felt that he had a mission to perform which dreaming could not accomplish. however pleasant it may be to think of the great and brilliant things which one will do, to one of bobby's practical character it was even more pleasant to perform them. we all dream great things, imagine great things; but he who stops there does not amount to much, and the world can well spare him, for he is nothing but a drone in the hive. bobby's fine imaginings were pretty sure to bring out a "now or never," which was the pledge of action, and the work was as good as done when he had said it.

therefore, when the train arrived, bobby did not stop to dream any longer. he forgot his beautiful air castle, and even let annie lee slip from his mind for the time being. those towns upon the kennebec, the two hundred books he was to sell, loomed up before him, for it was with them he had to do.

grasping the little valise he carried with him, he was hastening out of the station house when a hand was placed upon his shoulder.

"got off slick—didn't i?" said tom spicer, placing himself by bobby's side.

"you here, tom!" exclaimed our hero, gazing with astonishment at his late companion.

it was not an agreeable encounter, and from the bottom of his heart bobby wished him anywhere but where he was. he foresaw that he could not easily get rid of him.

"i am here," replied tom. "i ran through the woods to the depot, and got aboard the cars just as they were starting. the old man couldn't come it over me quite so slick as that."

"but you ran away from home."

"well, what of it?"

"a good deal, i should say."

"if you had been in my place, you would have done the same."

"i don't know about that; obedience to parents is one of our first duties."

"i know that; and if i had had any sort of fair play, i wouldn't have run away."

"what do you mean by that?" asked bobby, somewhat surprised, though he had a faint idea of the meaning of the other.

"i will tell you all about it by and by. i give you my word of honor that i will make everything satisfactory to you."

"but you lied to me on the road this morning."

tom winced; under ordinary circumstances he would have resented such a remark by "clearing away" for a fight. but he had a purpose to accomplish, and he knew the character of him with whom he had to deal.

"i'm sorry i did, now," answered tom, with every manifestation of penitence for his fault. "i didn't want to lie to you; and it went against my conscience to do so. but i was afraid, if i told you my father refused, up and down, to let me go, that you wouldn't be willing i should come with you."

"i shall not be any more willing now i know all about it," added bobby, in an uncompromising tone.

"wait till you have heard my story, and then you won't blame me."

"of course you can go where you please; it is none of my business; but let me tell you, tom, in the beginning, that i won't go with a fellow who has run away from his father and mother."

"pooh! what's the use of talking in that way?"

tom was evidently disconcerted by this decided stand of his companion. he knew that his bump of firmness was well developed, and whatever he said he meant.

"you had better return home, tom. boys that run away from home don't often amount to much. take my advice, and go home," added bobby.

"to such a home as mine!" said tom, gloomily. "if i had such a home as yours, i would not have left it."

bobby got a further idea from this remark of the true state of the case, and the consideration moved him. tom's father was a notoriously intemperate man, and the boy had nothing to hope for from his precept or his example. he was the child of a drunkard, and as much to be pitied as blamed for his vices. his home was not pleasant. he who presided over it, and who should have made a paradise of it, was its evil genius, a demon of wickedness, who blasted its flowers as fast as they bloomed.

tom had seemed truly penitent both during his illness and since his recovery. his one great desire now was to get away from home, for home to him was a place of torment. bobby suspected all this, and in his great heart he pitied his companion. he did not know what to do.

"i am sorry for you, tom," said he, after he had considered the matter in this new light; "but i don't see what i can do for you. i doubt whether it would be right for me to help you run away from your parents."

"i don't want you to help me run away. i have done that already."

"but if i let you go with me, it will be just the same thing. besides, since you told me those lies this morning, i haven't much confidence in you."

"i couldn't help that."

"yes, you could. couldn't help lying?"

"what could i do? you would have gone right back and told my father."

"well, we will go up to mr. bayard's store, and then we will see what can be done."

"i couldn't stay at home, sure," continued tom, as they walked along together. "my father even talked of binding me out to a trade."

"did he?"

bobby stopped short in the street; for it was evident that, as this would remove him from his unhappy home, and thus effect all he professed to desire, he had some other purpose in view.

"what are you stopping for, bob?"

"i think you had better go back, tom."

"not i; i won't do that, whatever happens."

"if your father will put you to a trade, what more do you want?"

"i won't go to a trade, anyhow."

bobby said no more, but determined to consult with mr. bayard about the matter; and tom was soon too busily engaged in observing the strange sights and sounds of the city to think of anything else.

when they reached the store, bobby went into mr. bayard's private office and told him all about the affair. the bookseller decided that tom had run away more to avoid being bound to a trade than because his home was unpleasant; and this decision seemed to bobby all the more just because he knew that tom's mother, though a drunkard's wife, was a very good woman. mr. bayard further decided that bobby ought not to permit the runaway to be the companion of his journey. he also considered it his duty to write to mr. spicer, informing him of his son's arrival in the city, and clearing bobby from any agency in his escape.

while mr. bayard was writing the letter, bobby went out to give tom the result of the consultation. the runaway received it with a great show of emotion, and begged and pleaded to have the decision reversed. but bobby, though he would gladly have done anything for him which was consistent with his duty, was firm as a rock, and positively refused to have anything to do with him until he obtained his father's consent; or, if there was any such trouble as he asserted, his mother's consent.

tom left the store, apparently "more in sorrow than in anger." his bullying nature seemed to be cast out, and bobby could not but feel sorry for him. duty was imperative, as it always is, and it must be done "now or never."

during the day the little merchant attended to the packing of his stock, and to such other preparations as were required for his journey. he must take the steamer that evening for bath, and when the time for his departure arrived, he was attended to the wharf by mr. bayard and ellen, with whom he had passed the afternoon. the bookseller assisted him in procuring his ticket and berth, and gave him such instructions as his inexperience demanded.

the last bell rang, the fasts were cast off, and the great wheels of the steamer began to turn. our hero, who had never been on the water in a steamboat, or indeed anything bigger than a punt on the river at home, was much interested and excited by his novel position. he seated himself on the promenade deck, and watched with wonder the boiling, surging waters astern of the steamer.

how powerful is man, the author of that mighty machine that bore him so swiftly over the deep blue waters! bobby was a little philosopher, as we have before had occasion to remark, and he was decidedly of the opinion that the steamboat was a great institution. when he had in some measure conquered his amazement, and the first ideas of sublimity which the steamer and the sea were calculated to excite in a poetical imagination, he walked forward to take a closer survey of the machinery. after all, there was something rather comical in the affair. the steam hissed and sputtered, and the great walking beam kept flying up and down; and the sum total of bobby's philosophy was, that it was funny these things should make the boat go so like a race horse over the water.

then he took a look into the pilot house, and it seemed more funny that turning that big wheel should steer the boat. but the wind blew rather fresh at the forward part of the boat, and as bobby's philosophy was not proof against it, he returned to the promenade deck, which was sheltered from the severity of the blast. he had got reconciled to the whole thing, and ceased to bother his head about the big wheel, the sputtering steam, and the walking beam; so he seated himself, and began to wonder what all the people in riverdale were about.

"all them as hasn't paid their fare, please walk up to the cap'n's office and s-e-t-t-l-e!" shouted a colored boy, presenting himself just then, and furiously ringing a large hand bell.

"i have just settled," said bobby, alluding to his comfortable seat.

but the allusion was so indefinite to the colored boy that he thought himself insulted. he did not appear to be a very amiable boy, for his fist was doubled up, and with sundry big oaths, he threatened to annihilate the little merchant for his insolence.

"i didn't say anything that need offend you," replied bobby. "i meant nothing."

"you lie! you did!"

he was on the point of administering a blow with his fist, when a third party appeared on the ground, and without waiting to hear the merits of the case, struck the negro a blow which had nearly floored him.

some of the passengers now interfered, and the colored boy was prevented from executing vengeance on the assailant.

"strike that fellow and you strike me!" said he who had struck the blow.

"tom spicer!" exclaimed bobby, astonished and chagrined at the presence of the runaway.