THE YOUTH'S PAGE

New Zealand Graphic, Volume VIII, Issue 36, 12 September 1891, Page 378

THE YOUTH'S PAGE

THE HELENVILLE BURGLAR.

HE train rolled in two hours late. That meant two hours after dinner-time. • HelenviWe ! Helen!!’ shouted the officious brakeman, as he suspiciously eyed an uneasy passenger in the act of tripping over a basket, two bundles and an umbrella in his haste to leave the sooty car. It was drizzlingly gloomy when Burtt Farrand emerged upon the platform, and the weather was so uncomfortable that he allowed himself to be put into a coach, and, contrary to his usual custom, drove to the hotel. He was a tall, robust young man, about eighteen or nineteen years old, and was dressed very plainly—in fact, rather queerly. Burtt was an enthusiastic mineral collector. He had the best cabinet ever made by a student in his college, and he had come to Helenville during his vacation, to get a few of those gorgeous quartzes for which the Helenville coppermine had been famous. He wore a faded blue, soft felt hat crushed over his eyes, an old blue coat and flannel shirt, blue trousers that had seen their better days in many a mine, and rubber-soled tennis shoes. He carried an old leather bag with just room enough for a few necessities of life, two chisels and his pet four-pound geologist’s hammer. These implements, as they bagged at the bottom, might easily have given the impression of workmen’s tools. As he stepped into the ‘ ’bus,’ he did not notice the unusual crowd on the platform, nor the whispers and gestures that were evidently directed toward him. Had he been listening, he would have heard a station loafer say : ‘ That’s him ! No doubt about it. What cheek !’ ' The coach filled up. Then, for the first time, Burtt noticed that everyone looked at him with fixed and suspicious gaze. ‘ This is very strange !’ he said to himself. I guess these natives have never seen a mineral crank before. I wonder if anything is the matter with my clothes ’’ He took off his hat and examined it shifted uneasily under the prolonged scrutiny, and was vexed with himself that he minded it, and still more so that he finally blushed. When at last the lumbering vehicle stopped in front of the hotel, the crowd seemed disproportionately enormous for so small a place. The jostling men parted, as Burtt thought, respectfully, to let him through when he went to sign his name at the desk.

* Perhaps they take me for a prince travelling incog.,’ he thought. ‘ Dinner, sir ?’ asked the clerk, with a look as if he were inspecting a caged animal. • Will you register ? M —m, guess you won’t need a room here. Take your bag?’ ‘ N-no,' stammered the nonplussed lad. * Y-es,—that is, I’ll have dinner and a room for the night; but I’ll keep my bag, thank you. Which way to the dining-room ? By the way, what’s all this fuss about ? Local election, or has some show come to town ?’ ‘ They say some show has come to town,’answered the clerk, with a sardonic smile. • That so, Bill, eh ?’ he added turning to a brawny, black-haired citizen near Burtt. * Vaas, you’ve hit it. ’ * That s good. I’m glad of it. I’ll hear all about it after dinner. That way, did you say?’ So airily passing the matterover, Burtt Farrand went in to dinner. All eyes followed him as he clung to his bag. * J ust my good luck to get here in time for some excitement !’ So thought Burtt, as he took up the bill of fare. He made up his mind to see the ‘ show,’ whatever it was, in the evening. ■ But how oueerly they act !’ thought he. ‘ I should think they took me for the show.’ In truth, the actions of the people seemed to justify his observation. All the women waiters in the hotel looked at him as he ate his dinner, trying to look unconscious. These girls pointed, whispered, giggled and looked scared. They made themselves thoroughly obnoxious to him. Men, too, seemed to think the dining room a centre of interest. They swarmed through as if it were the hall. A pleasant-looking man came and talked with him as he ate—it was the proprietor of the hotel—and plied him with what seemed to Burtt impertinent |<ersonal questions. Every five minutes the brawny man with the shock of black hair looked in, as if to make sure his game was safe.

To say that these novel proceedings puzzled the simpleminded collector would be making a mild statement, but by the time he had finished his dessert he had made np his mind to enter into the spirit of the fun, whatever it might be, and to carry his part through at all hazards. * What time do they play?’ Burtt nonchalantly, asked the observant clerk after dinner, while eight or ten muscular men hung like leeches on his words. ‘ Oh, pretty soon,’ said the clerk, significantly. * Have you ever been here before ?’ Then be flashed a look at the unconscious boy, and bis question seemed to ring triumphant, as if it were an absolute poser. * Well, no, and if it continues to rain like this, I won’t come here again. Say, do yon fellows have your shows in the afternoon so as to turn in at eight ?’ This was Burtt’s poser. He burst into a hearty laugh, but it was a solo. None of his hearers joined in it. ‘Yes, about once a year. We are glad to have you present when the curtain is rung up. Hey, boys?’ said the sardonic clerk, nodding to the stalwart men behind Burtt. * Couldn’t go on without him !’ one gruff voice growled. This was Sanscrit to Burtt. He puzzled awhile, then threw the conundrum off, and ejaculated, * Oh, bother the rain ! I’ll take a stroll in spite of it. Can you lend me an umbrella 1 Where are the mines ?’ In the enthusiasm of his hobby he easily forgot the situation. He longed to get his hammer at work, and find some fine specimens. The clerk cast an interrogatory look at the big man behind Burtt. The glance was answered with a nod. The hotel official then brought out a huge bombazine wreck, and handed it to Burtt with a sarcastic bow. * It’s a pretty old umbrella, but be sure you bring it back,’ he said, portentously. ‘ Isn’t it rather wet to take a trip to the mines ? Leave your bag, sir ?’ There was another breathless pause in the room. All

sounds seemed hushed when these two talked. Burtt might have been a prince, at least, if silence is a mark of deference.

• Oh, no, not a bit,’ Burtt’s voice cheerfully rang. ‘ I’ve been out in worse weather than this many a time. I’m after specimens, minerals, you know, quartz crystals.’ He emphasised the last two words, as he observed a look of unmistakable incredulity stealing over the face opposite him, and then reflected around the entire room.

* I’ll be back for supper, anyway. Excuse me, gentlemen.’ He had waved the men back. He passed through the collected crowd in the street, motioning them aside with his head and hand. He was a strong, athletic fellow, one of the swell football team.

His eyes gleamed. Things were going too far. He didn’t understand it, but he was not to be fooled with. When they were left behind, he swung up the street toward the mines with a long, easy stride. The rain fell more heavily, but he was glad to get out of the oppressive atmosphere. Soon, breaking into a whistle, he disappeared into the woods. The dumps were not far away. The umbrella scarcely covered him. Specimens seemed scarce, and the drizzle was penetrative. The hottest enthusiasm can be put out by a steady rain. Burtt entered the shaft of the mine with a sneaking motion, for he felt himself watched. He looked around often and though he saw no one, he had a criminal feeling for the first time in his life —the sensation that comes when one suspects that his liberty is being outraged by a paid * shadow. * He felt that he must be out of the possibility of being seen at any cost, so he went deeper into the mine until the daylight was dim. The shaft ran horizontally into the mountain. He saw the reflection from many a facet here and there. Helenville quartzes are peculiar in that they project from their

matrix—that is, from the galenite and chalcopyrite—like quills from a porcupine. They bristle, transparent as glass, from a grey and golden background. They are not large, but perfect, with faces cut as clearly as if they were polished to order by an Amsterdam diamond-cutter. Burtt found no such perfect quartzes here. They had been worked out several years before, and were now rare ; but he picked out the best crystals he had so far seen. He stuffed them into his bag ana pockets and started back to town.

When he emerged upon the highway, his thoughts were directed from his cabinet to an express waggon that seemed to stand ready to meet him. The rain had ceased, and he walked fast and faster, clutching the umbrella under his arm.

‘They seem to be looking for someone,’ he thought, and dismissed the waggon from his mind ; but as he turned down the road, he heard the waggon following. He carelessly turned his head. Every eye in that conveyance was ominously directed upon him. ' Well, well ! They are after me, sure enough ! What on earth are they up to?’ muttered the astonished boy. • We’ll have some fun, any way.’ He quickened his pace. The waggon had four men in it, and they urged the horse, keeping about a hundred yards behind him. Burtt, his eyes dancing with fun, accelerated his pace into a jog-trot. The horse was whipped up. Burtt then broke into a good run. By this time the quadruped was trotting with great speed. * I’ll make them puff for it!’ His college spirit burst forth as he gathered himself for a spurt that his ‘ eleven ’ would have recognized. Away he dashed, breaking down a side street. The horse galloped madly after him, urged by whip and shonts. The boy gained. He turned up to the woods now, forgetting in his excitement that he had no reason to wish to escape.

* Stop him ! There he is !’ rang out from the waggon. * Don’t shoot yet! Cut him off!’ One man, two men, three men joined the hunt. The chase was now all uphill. It grew hard. The bag, the full pockets and the umbrella were heavy. He was handicapped and panting. The running men were left behind, but the waggon now gained rapidly. Should he stop ? Should he give in ? At tnat moment a voice yelled : ‘ Go another step, and we’ll shoot.’ He looked behind. Three revolvers were levelled at him. This was no longer fnn, but dead earnest, and Burtt Farrand stopped. He was of the kind who take pleasantries with a laugh, bnt this had beaten all his experiences of that sort. But he did not lose his self-possession nor his selfconfident smile. At that moment the waggon halted. Three men jumped out and rushed upon him. One seized his — right arm, another his left; both thrust pistols into his face, while the third made desperate dashes at his bulging pockets and bag. The black-haired, burly leader, whom he now recognised, broke in. * Your game is up. You may as well come along • quietly. We’ve got you and the stuff, too,’ glancing at pockets and bag. ‘ Well, who do you think I am ?’ undauntedly asked the prisoner. ‘ We don’t think, we know !' ‘ Know?’said Burtt, sarcastically, ‘what do you know ! Who am I?’ ‘ Why, the third man,’ answered all three, in chorus. ‘ The third what ?’ . * The third crook, the third burglar. ’

‘Oho!’ cried Burtt, the real facts of the situation beginning to dawn upon him for the first time. ‘ You take me for a burglar, do you ? Pray explain yourselves, gentlemen. ’ ‘ Now, it’s no use trying to get out of it,’ their chief continued. * You’re fool enough, to keep on the same clothes, even the same shoes,’ glancing down at the bedraggled but innocent tennis shoes. * Them is the tracks we followed this morning. That so ?* He looked at the others. ‘ Yes,’ answered one. ‘ Them isthe identical tracks that was found in the backyard of the bank and under the store winder. He’s the same chap, sure ’nough. I see him running away before the others were caught. You think you’re mighty cool and safe, cornin’ to town in the first train, innocent like,’ he said, looking at Burtt, * but that didn’t work, hey ’ Not with us. We spotted you last night; that’s the trouble. ’ ‘ Look here!’ Burtt’s face suddenly became serious. • You are making a big, foolish mistake. lam no thief. I am a mineralogist, and the son of the Bev. Dr. W. S. Farrand, of Amlesdale. I never saw this miserable town before, and never will again, and if you don't loosen my arms, and let me go,—l’ll walk quietly enough to the hotel, or ride never fear, —I’ll prosecute you, I’ll sue you for damages!’ He spoke so earnestly and honestly that they halted, looked over him, whispered together and then the leader said :

‘You come with us quietly ; no nonsense, We’ll take the bag. It will be all right, if you're all right.’ They put him into the waggon. He sat on the front seat with the driver. The three stood up behind, resting their hands on the shoulders of the two sitting down. When they reached the town the whole populace evidently was out. The burglar was caught! There were cheers for the elever detective. The people hooted and yelled as the waggon with difficulty made its way to the hotel. Some of them had been on the chase since two o'clock in the morning. They recognized the escaped thief. ‘ Yes, that’s him 1’ ‘ Mighty smart to come back for his plunder !’ • You’re catched, this time !’ ‘ Shall we swing him up, boys ?’ These cries were not calculated to cheer the belated mineralogist. How could he get out of it ? What wouldn't that lawless crowd do in their vengeance ?

At the hotel the excitement was prodigious. All three of the burglars, whose daring theft had convulsed this leaden village, were now captured. What a glory for the local police ! The money and watches could not be far. The confession of this last confederate would locate the spot

-where they were hidden. Perhaps they were in his pockets and big. At that moment the clerk looked up sagaciously at the fallen hero. * I thought you would bring the umbrella back,’ he said. •I guess I needn’t prepare your room here.' A laugh arose at this sally. In despair Burtt beckoned him to come nearer. * Look here,’ he said ; * I must send a telegram off'.’ He dashed a contemptnous look at the sheriff'. * Then take me to the gaol it your peril!’ Hie captors laughed. No one thought that a mistake could have been made. They had forgotten their momentary doubts in the applause of their admirers. The clerk dubiously took the telegram from the boy’s hand and promised to send it. It ran thus : Dr. W. S. Farrand, Editorial Rooms of Amlesdale Religious Influencer. I am in a fix. Have been arrested for a burglar. Put in gaol. Send word immediately or come to identify your son. Burtt Farrand. Burtt slipped a half-crown into the hands of the clerk, who eyed it suspiciously, as if he thought it might be counterfeit. Bdrtt now breathed more freely. Whatever came could not last long. But the possibility of one night in gaol, and of the boys getting hold of the fact that he was arrested as a burglar acted as dampers to his rising buoyancy. He knew it would never be forgotten at college, and he sadly saw in his imagination cartoons in the College News, and squibs in the Junior periodical. ‘ We’ll put him in Number Three,’whispered the gruff, black-haired man, with his hand on Burtt’s arm, to the bank president. ‘ Have you got the cash ?’ was asked quietly, in return. ‘ No. There was rocks in his pockets and bag. A clever dodge to throw us off' the scent. We’ll run it down yet. Don’t you worry.’ * All right,’ was the hopeful response, * Guard him carefully, or the boys will get after him. They are terribly angry now.’ So they were. 11 was best to whip up the jaded horse again. The gaol was at the other end of the town. An egg broke on Burtt’s coat; jeers echoed on all sides. The officers protected him by surrounding him. Two hours and a half after Burtt Farrand had come to Helenville, a happy, hopeful, innocent seeker after quartz crystals, he was locked up in cell Number Three in the town gaol. Never before since a mob had assembled to prevent the painting of the Helenville school-house any other colour than yellow, or at least since the ‘great’ town-meeting was held to decide about continuing to ring the nine o'clock bell, had this tranquil town been thrown into such perturbation. Its only bankand jewellerystore had been completely sacked. Two of theaudaciousvillainshadbeencapturedimmediatelyafterthe robbery. The third, who had been seen and closely pursued by several, had escaped. He had the treasure. Expecting a detective, the populace had turned out to watch the train. Burtt’s irregular appearance, tallying closely, even down to his shoes, with the description of the thief, immediately turned the suspicion of the local police and town against him. He was dogged, permitted to go, as the people supposed, to get his plunder, and now was securely locked

up. During this hubbub, in which the entire village had joined—for real excitement was only to be had there once in two or three years—an old gentleman and a young lady walked up to the desk at the office of the boteland examined the list of arrivals for that day. ‘ Why, father!’ exclaimed the pretty girl, ‘if Burtt Farrand isn’t here '. See, here is his name in bis own writing. He wrote me he might come at any time this summer.’ ‘ That’s good. We’ll hunt him up, answered her father. ‘ What room did yon put Mr Farrand in !’ he said to the clerk, pointing to the name. ‘ That ? Why, that’s no real name ! It’s some bogus alias. He’s the thief ! They have got him in the lock up now. He’s just been carried there. He’s one of the three that made the break last night.’ The old man could only utter an inarticulate ‘ Whew !’ The daughter looked at her father blankly ; then her face gradually brightened, and she finally burst into a hearty laugh. ‘What a splendid joke on Mr Farrand ! He will never hear the last of it. Why, you’ve made a perfectly ridiculous mistake,’ she said, turning to the bewildered clerk. ‘ That is our friend, Burtt Farrand. That’s his handwriting. He is the son of the editor of the Religious Influencer. What a joke on Helenville ! What a joke on Burtt!’ She burst into another peal of laughter in which her father gailv joined. ‘ We will have to get him out immediately,’ said the old gentleman. ‘ Here is a telegram he gave me,’ said the clerk, beginning to look sheepish. ‘ I thought it was a bluff, and didn’t send it. Will you look at it, sir ?’ He produced from his pocket a paper that looked as if it had gone the rounds of fifty dirty hands. This the father and daughter read. The handwriting was Burtt’s, beyond a doubt, and they laughed again.

‘ He has got a pretty specimen this time,’ said the young lady. ‘ Do go and let him out, papa. Hurry !’ In about fifteen minutes Burtt Farrand, looking pale and decidedly the worse for his incarceration, was bowing his thanks to his old friend. In ten minutes more the town had heard of the mistake. Apologies were profuse. The young guest had become the martyr and hero of the hour. ‘ You see, you answered to the description almost to a dot ’ said the hotel proprietor, trying to find an excuse for his part in the matter. ‘ Same complexion, same height, same clothes, same shoes. We thought you supposed you were unrecognised last night and so ventured to town boldly to get your plunder and rescue your pals. When you ran, that settled it. You oughtn’t to have run.’ The ‘ detectives ’ were marched in and mumbled their aP ‘ > He’d S a’ made a good burglar, anyhow,’ said the blackhaired man, as he made his way out again amid the taunts of the fickle crowd. . u . ‘ Well,’ said the proprietor, half to the crowd and half to Burtt, ‘ we’ll have to make it up to you somehow. What do you want by way of a set-off?’ ‘ Quartz crystals,’ said Burtt. ‘ That’s what I came here tO ßurtt remained two or three days at the house of his

hospitable friends, the fact of whose residence there during the summer he had quite forgotten when his difficulty overtook him. When he went to the station to take his departure the town had turned out again; and upon the platform were several bulky boxes marked with his address. All the local hoards of quartz crystals bad been dispoiied of their best specimens for his benefit. They had been brought to the station in the same waggon and by the same horse which had pursued him on the road—both decorated for the occasion. * Well,’ said Burtt, as he glanced at the boxes, * I don’t know but I’m glad I ran, after all !’

Herbert D. Ward.