CHAPTER XXXII.
AN INTERESTING LETTER.
To Andy and Matt it looked as if the entire turnout must slide down the hillside to the bottom, there to be smashed into a hundred pieces.
It was small wonder, therefore, that both gave a loud cry of alarm and that both caught at the lines to lead Billy away from the danger so imminent.
The horse continued to move ahead, but instead of drawing closer to the inside, he walked upon the very outer edge of the road.
"I'll lead him!" cried Andy, and while Matt continued to hold the lines, he sprang out and caught Billy by the bridle.
Ordinarily, the faithful animal would have come along willingly, but he now seemed to grow obstinate, and pulled back when Andy caught hold. The wagon stopped, and then the rear wheels were sent partly down the slope.
"Pull him up!" cried Matt. "Pull him, Andy!"
"He won't come!" gasped Andy, tugging at the bridle with might and main.
"But he must come! The wagon will go down in another second!"
"I can't help it, I can't make him come," panted Andy, between his clinched teeth, as he renewed the struggle to bring the wagon up on the level once more.
Tying the lines fast, Matt sprang out. He had seen a loose stone of fair size close at hand, and this he now picked up. Running around to the rear of the wagon, he placed it on the sloping ground so that one of the wheels was blocked from further slipping.
"Good!" cried Andy. "Can you find another stone?"
"I'm going to push on the other wheel. Get up, Billy, get up there!"
Matt placed his shoulder to the wheel, and exerted all of his strength, and seeing this, Andy also urged the horse. Billy gave a tug—there was a moment's strain—and then the turn-out rolled up once more upon the level road.
"Thank goodness for that!" burst out Andy. "I thought for a moment that it was a goner!"
"So did I, Andy. You had better lead him until we reach a safer bit of the road."
"I intend to do that. And after this I'll know enough to lead him around such a bend, instead of taking such a dangerous chance."
Only a hundred feet further on the mountain road left the proximity of the slope, and then the two once more climbed up on the seat. Billy, the horse, did not appear to be in the least disturbed over the adventure, but Matt and Andy were bathed in a cold perspiration which did not leave them until some time after.
At Lehighton, where they stopped for dinner, they determined to drive right through to Mauch Chunk, four miles further on. Many people from the former place did their trading at Mauch Chunk, and the young auctioneers thought they would catch just as much trade by not stopping on the way.
At Mauch Chunk a stop was made for three days, and during that time there were several excursions to the place from New York and Philadelphia, the city folks coming up to see the autumnal beauties of Glen Onoko and the various mountains through which the Switchback gravity road runs. These crowds helped business some, and the stay proved nearly as profitable as the one at Easton had been.
On the first day at Mauch Chunk Matt procured the money order of which he had spoken, and sent it to Ida Bartlett, with a long letter, in which he thanked her for her kindness, and gave her an account of the trip since leaving the metropolis. He stated that if she wished to write to him within the week to address the letter to Wilkesbarre, or, on the following week to Scranton, as they were bound for both places.
During their spare hours both Andy and Matt took the ride on the gravity road and enjoyed it very much. The rhododendrons were out in full bloom, and Matt wished he could send Ida Bartlett a bunch of the beautiful flowers.
They were soon once again on the road. But Billy's shoes had been carefully attended to, and now they were very careful whenever they came to a spot that looked at all dangerous.
"One scare is enough," was the way Andy put it, and Matt thoroughly agreed with him.
After leaving Mauch Chunk they passed through Penn Haven and Leslie Run, and so on to White Haven. At the latter place they stopped for two days, but found it very unprofitable, as there was little or no money afloat.
"Well, we have to take the bad with the good," said Andy, in reply to Matt's remark concerning the dullness of trade. "We cannot expect to make money wherever we go. If that was to be done, I reckon there would be many other auctioneers in the field."
"That reminds me: I wonder what has become of those auctioneers we heard of in Bethlehem?"
"I'm sure I don't know. But it is likely that we will hear from them again, sooner or later."
On leaving White Haven for Wilkesbarre, they struck the first snow-storm of the season. It was not a heavy storm, and yet, as the wind blew in their faces, the drive of thirty miles proved anything but pleasant. They were glad enough when the city was reached, and they were able to put up the turn-out at a livery stable and warm up around the office stove.
"We won't be able to travel much longer, if this keeps on," remarked Andy. "We'll have to pick out some place to settle down in for the winter."
"Have you any place in view?" asked Matt, with interest.
"I've had my eye on Middletown, New York State. That's a lively place, and it gets a trade from a good many miles around."
"Do you think we can make it?"
"I think so. We can go from Scranton to Carbondale, and Honesdale, and so on through Lackawaxen and Port Jervis. By taking that route we can stop on the way and still reach Middletown inside of two weeks."
"Well, I shouldn't like to miss a letter from Miss Bartlett, if it was sent."
"You can leave directions to forward it if it comes after we are gone. The post-office authorities will willingly send the letter wherever you direct."
"Perhaps she has already written."
"If you think so, why don't you call at the post-office and find out?"
"I will—as soon as we have had something to eat and drink."
They passed over to the Commercial Hotel, and after brushing up, entered the dining-room. Here a late dinner was served for them, and it is needless to say that both did full justice to all that was set before them.
After they had finished Andy went off to hunt up an empty store, and Matt, after securing directions, walked off to the post-office.
To his delight, there was a letter for him, and addressed in Ida Bartlett's hand. As it was the first letter he had received since being on the road, the reader can understand his curiosity to master its contents. Standing back in an out-of-the-way spot of the corridor, he split open the envelope with his penknife, and was soon reading that which had been written.
The letter surprised him not a little, After acknowledging the receipt of the money order and congratulating him upon his evident success, Ida Bartlett wrote as follows:
"And now, Matt, I am going to tell you something that I think will interest you even more than it does me. It is about Mr. Fenton and the mining shares which he once sold your father. Last week Mr. Gaston, the bookkeeper, had a quarrel with Mr. Fenton, and was discharged. Before he left, however, he and Mr. Fenton had some high words, which I, being in the next office, could not help hearing.
"During this quarrel something was said about the shares sold to William Lincoln, and Mr. Gaston said that if the papers in connection with the shares which your father had bought could be recovered, he would expose Mr. Fenton. I could not understand the whole drift of the matter, but Mr. Fenton seemed to be glad that your father was missing—he said he was most likely dead—and that the papers had disappeared with him.
"Do you know anything of the papers? Mr. Gaston has gone to Boston, but I could write to him if you think that Mr. Fenton is a swindler and that you can get back any money which he may have defrauded your father out of. I myself am going to leave Mr. Fenton's employ on the first of next month, having secured a better place with another firm of brokers. Let me hear from you again as soon as possible. I hope if he has any money belonging to your father you can get it."