CHAPTER XXXI.
DANGEROUS MOUNTAIN TRAVELING.
Both Matt and Andy began to smell a mouse, as the saying is, and they lost no time in questioning not only the German, but several other people that remained around the wagon.
The young auctioneers soon learned that a rival party of auctioneers with a large two-horse wagon had stopped at the town during the entire previous week, and sold goods which were next to worthless, for the highest prices to be obtained. They had been cool and shrewd men, thoroughly dishonest, and they had swindled every one who had had dealings with them.
"And where did they go to?" asked Andy, of the German, after the matter had been talked over for some time.
"Ve ton't know. Of ve did ve vould tar an' fedder clem, py chiminy!" was the emphatic reply.
"That settles it, we won't be able to do any business here," said Matt, and though they remained in Bethlehem the remainder of that day and all of the next, his words proved true. Only a few trifles were sold, and these at prices that did not reimburse them for the trouble of handling.
Seeing that it would not pay to remain in the town longer, they started once more on the road, and by the end of the week found themselves established in a store in Allentown, and doing quite a good business.
While in this city Andy made a trip to Philadelphia, and had several more cases of goods shipped on, which Matt was careful to procure before they might be stolen from the freight depot. The wagon was also sent to a repair shop and thoroughly overhauled, for the roads beyond Allentown promised to be rougher than those heretofore traversed.
Both Matt and Andy were curious to know more about the rival auctioneers, and they wondered if they would meet the men. Nothing had been heard of them in Allentown, so that their business in that city was not injured. They did fairly well, although a strike in some of the mills made business duller than it would otherwise have been.
But both of the partners thought they had no cause for complaint. During the time they had been away from home they had cleared, above all expenses, one hundred and seventy-two dollars, which, equally divided, was eighty-six dollars apiece—not a fortune, but still an amount which Matt at least viewed with considerable satisfaction.
"If we do as well right straight through," he said, as he and Andy talked it over on their way to Lehighton and Mauch Chunk, "we will have quite an amount to place to our credit in the bank by the time we reach New York again."
"I am in hopes that we will do even better as cold weather comes on," returned Andy. "Folks seem to buy more then—I don't know why. And besides, after stopping at Mauch Chunk, we will only go to large places, for I think it will pay to skip the smaller ones."
"I don't know but what you are right. I know one thing that I am going to do when I get to Mauch Chunk—that is, if business continues good."
"And what is that?"
"I am going to buy a post-office order and send Miss Bartlett the money she so kindly loaned me. Won't she be surprised to get it back so soon?"
"No doubt of it, Matt. It was very kind of her to loan it to you. I suppose you are going to pay her the interest"
"For the full year," finished the boy. And at Christmas, if I can do it, I'm going to make her some sort of a nice present. She is the only friend I had left in New York."
"A very nice young lady," returned Andy, and then he went on, with a short laugh: "I wonder what old Caleb Gulligan would say if he knew of our prosperity?"
"And I wonder what Mr. Randolph Fenton would say if he knew how I was doing? I hope when I write to Miss Bartlett that she lets him know," went on Matt. "I suppose he thought that after he discharged me I would go to the dogs."
"Yes, men like him very often imagine the world cannot possibly get along without them. I reckon you are glad that you are no longer in his employ."
"Glad isn't a strong enough word, Andy. It makes me shudder to look back at the times I spent in his offices, being bossed around and scolded from morning to night."
"I think traveling around has done us both a deal of good, Matt. I feel stronger than I have in years, and you look the picture of health, barring those bruises you received from Barberry and his companions."
"Oh, I feel fine! Outdoor life always did agree with me. When I was in Fenton's offices I felt very much like a prisoner in a jail. I wouldn't go back to that life again for the world!"
Thus the talk ran on, from one subject to another. Andy had given his young partner the full particulars of his own roving life, and in return Matt had related everything concerning himself, and the two felt as if they had known each other for years; in fact, as Matt once stated later on, they were more like brothers than mere partners in business.
Andy was deeply interested in the fact of Mr. Lincoln's disappearance, and he wondered nearly as much as did Matt himself if the unfortunate man would ever turn up again.
As for the boy, he could not bring himself to believe that his parent was dead, and although he rarely mentioned his father's name, he was constantly on the watch for him, and often when they were stopping at a place he would go off on what he termed a "still hunt," hoping thereby to pick up a stray bit of information which would put him on the right track to learn of his father's whereabouts.
The drive up through Walnut Port to Lehigh Gap was very nice. At the latter place they stopped over night, and then pushed on to Lehighton, sometimes along the river, and then by way of a road through and around the mountains.
"This scenery is just grand!" cried Matt, as they were driving on about ten o'clock in the forenoon. "Just look at that mountain over yonder! And see how the river winds along through the valley below here!"
"It is very fine, indeed!" returned Andy. "But I'll tell you what: I would rather be on horseback than in the wagon. It seems to me that some of the bends around the mountain side are positively dangerous."
"Oh, I guess not, Andy. Why, look, there is a regular wagon road. If other wagons can pass along here, I fancy we can do so, too."
"Other wagons may not be as heavy as ours, with that big case tied on behind. Don't you notice how Billy slips every once in a while?"
"Well, we might have had him shod sharp when we had the wagon overhauled," returned Matt slowly, as he noticed for the first time that Billy did slip more than usual. "We can have it done daring our stop at Mauch Chunk or at Lehighton, if it becomes necessary. Maybe we are on the wrong road again."
"Well, certainly this road is growing worse instead of better," said Andy soberly. "Just look at that turn ahead! The road isn't over ten feet wide, and it slopes down to that steep hill"
"Drive as close to the inside wall as you can," was Matt's somewhat nervous reply, as he saw the possible danger ahead. "Steady now, Billy, steady!"
The horse moved along slowly up to the curve which ran around the mountain side. As Andy had said, the road at this point was scarcely ten feet wide, and on the other side was a steep downward slope, terminating below at a tiny brook filled with loose rocks.
The curve was reached, and the two were just congratulating themselves upon having passed the dangerous spot in safety, when a large bird, flying from a near-by bush, frightened Billy and caused him to shy to one side.
In another instant the wagon was at the very edge of the slope!