CHAPTER XXI.
FRANKLIN BELL'S MISSION.
"Chicago! All out!"
With a rumble and a roar, the long train from New York ran into the large depot, and came slowly to a stop. Already, the numerous passengers were on their feet, and now they crowded to the platforms.
Among the number was Franklin Bell. The bustle and confusion about the place, at once reminded him of New York City. There were the cab drivers and the baggage men, all on the lookout for business, and out on the street were the newsboys and gutter merchants, crying their wares, and doing what they could to make sales.
Franklin had been advised by Belden Brice, to secure board at some private house, and now he started out with his satchel in his hand, leaving his trunk on check at the depot.
"Paper, sir?" cried a newsboy. "News, Herald, Times, Inter-Ocean!"
"I'll take a paper," returned Franklin.
He at once turned to the advertisments he wished to see. There were a goodly number of them, and after looking them over carefully, he selected half a dozen to try.
After this he inquired his way to the nearest of the places. It was quite a walk, and when he arrived at, the house, its look from the exterior, was such that the young electrician did not care to venture inside.
The second call was not better, and by this time it was past the noon hour. Feeling hungry, Franklin resolved to get a lunch before proceeding with his search. A tidy looking restaurant was close at hand, and this he entered and took a seat at one of the numerous tables.
At a table close by, sat two young men conversing earnestly. They paid no attention to Franklin, and he could not help but hear what they had to say while he was eating.
"Yes, Jack, I am sorry to see you go back to Denver," said one of the two young men. "I thought you were going to remain in Chicago all summer. Mrs. Gould will be sorry to lose you."
"So she said."
"She has already lost two of her other boarders."
"Perhaps she will be able to get somebody in my place. She'll have to advertise."
Franklin had been an interested listener to the foregoing conversation, and now when the two young men arose he also left his chair, and tapped one of them on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," he said, "but I could not help but hear what you just said about one of you leaving his boarding house. I just came to Chicago, and have been hunting for a place."
The two young men looked at Franklin earnestly for a moment, and then the one called Walter replied:
"My friend here, Jack Fanwood, is going to leave to-night, and you may be able to get his room."
"So I thought. Would you mind telling me something of the place?"
"It is a very good boarding house. I have boarded there over two years, and I would not wish for anything better. Of course we put on no style, but everything is clean and comfortable, and Mrs. Gould sets an excellent table."
"That would just suit me. How much does she charge?"
"That would be according to the room. From six to ten dollars, I presume, and that includes washing and mending, for Mrs. Gould tries to make her place a regular home for her boarders."
"I would like that. If you will give me her address, I will call upon her at once, and see if I can make arrangements with her."
"I am going back to the house now," said Jack Fanwood. "You see, my friend here, Walter Robinson, and myself do not take our noonday meal at the house, that is the reason we are not there now. May I ask your name?"
Franklin told him, and after settling up, the young electrician and his new acquaintance, left the restaurant, and proceeded to Mrs. Gould's boarding house, which was six blocks distant.
Franklin found the house all that he wished, and Mrs. Gould a motherly old lady, no one could help loving. She was delighted to think Jack Fanwood had brought her a possible boarder to take his place, and a bargain for a large hall bedroom, at eight dollars per week was made on the spot. Franklin was to have breakfast and dinner at the house, and Mrs. Gould was to pack him up a lunch for noon time, as soon as he procured a situation where he could not come home at that hour.
As soon as this arrangement was completed, Franklin took a cable car down to the depot, and had his trunk sent up to the house.
"Now I'll take a walk around to the works of the H. Y. Smith Co. and see how the situation looks," he said to himself, as he consulted his watch and found that it still lacked ten minutes of four o'clock. "There is nothing like getting to work without delay when something is to be done."
Belden Brice had given him the address of the works. It was on the opposite side of the Chicago river, and to get to it. Franklin had to cross one of the numerous street bridges.
At length, Franklin arrived at a large yard surrounded by a high stone wall. In the rear of the yard was a two-story factory, all of a hundred feet long. There was a constant hammering, and a dull hum from within.
"This is the place," he said to himself, as he read the big sign suspended in a semi-circle over the gateway leading into the yard. "Evidently they are busy, by the way things sound. I wonder if they would say anything if I walked into the yard, and took a look around?"
He hesitated for a moment, and then, seeing no one in sight, entered the yard and made his way slowly toward the factory.
The offices were at one end, and not wishing to call there just yet, the young electrician turned towards the opposite end. Here the shipping department was situated, and at a platform several feet high, backed by big sliding doors, two large two-horse trucks were being loaded with small boxes, which Franklin knew must each contain one of the batteries upon which Belden Brice was supposed to receive a royalty.
The men who were loading the trucks, several in number, paid no attention to Franklin, and the young electrician gradually drew nearer, to learn if possible, where the batteries were to be sent.
He knew that the boxes ought to be marked in some way, but soon learned that every one of them was free of any directions whatever.
"They can't be shipping them anywhere," he said to himself. "Perhaps they are only transferring them to some storehouse attached to the factory."
The shippers were very slow in their work, and it was nearly five o'clock before the two trucks were loaded and ready to be sent off.
"I have half a mind to follow those trucks and learn where the batteries are taken," Franklin went on to himself, as the drivers, after consulting the head shipping clerk, mounted to their seats and took up the reins. "Mr. Brice wanted me to learn all I could, and I can't think of anything else to do to-day. It's almost quitting time."
With a snap of his whip, one of the truck drivers began to start up his horses. The load was a heavy one, and the shoes of the animals slipped time and again on the smooth stones, with which the factory yard was paved.
"Git up there, consarn you!" cried the truckman, savagely. "Git up, I say, or I'll take the hide clean off of you!"
And standing on his seat, he brought down the whip with all force on the back of first one horse and then the other.
The horses tried their best, but could not budge the truck, and seeing this, the truckman grew more savage than ever, and lashed the poor brutes right and left with his heavy whip.
"We'll see if you won't go!" he raved. "Take that! and that! and that! No bit of hoss flesh ever got the best of Hank Bitters!"
"Say, Hank, don't kill the critters," called out the second truckman, with some show of humanity. "They mean well enough, but the load is a leetle too heavy for them."
"Oh, give us a rest," returned the first truckman, surlily. "I know how to manage them every time."
"If you get down in front of them, they may go better."
"No, they won't. They're a couple of lazy brutes, and I'm going to teach 'em a lesson they won't forget in a hurry!"
"What are you going to do?" asked the shipping clerk, as he came out on the' platform to see what was the trouble.
"I'll show you," howled the infuriated truckman, as he threw down the whip and the reins, and clambered once more to the ground.
It was evident that he had been drinking heavily, for no sooner had he reached the ground than he began to stagger painfully from side to side.
But he managed to keep his feet, and a moment later, jumped up on the platform and disappeared into the shipping room.
"What's he gone for now?" asked the other truckman, curiously.
"Hang me if I know," muttered the shipping clerk. "Hank's got 'em on to-day."
He had hardly spoken, before the half drunken truckman emerged upon the platform once more. In his right hand he held a large stamping iron which was heated red hot.
He sprang down and rushed towards the horses with his cruel instrument of torture, but before he could reach them, Franklin stopped him and hurled him to the ground.