Phil, the Fiddler by Jr. Horatio Alger (ereader for comics .TXT) 📕

Phil had already made up his mind where to go. Just across the river was New Jersey, with its flourishing towns and cities, settled to a large extent by men doing business in New York. The largest of these cities was Newark, only ten miles distant. There Phil decided to make his first stop. If he found himself in danger of capture he could easily go farther. This plan Paul approved, and it was to be carried into execution immediately.

“I will go down to the Cortlandt Street Ferry with you, Phil,” said Paul.

“I should like to have you, if it will not take you from your business, Paolo.”

“My business can wait,” said Paul. “I mean to see you safe out of the city. The padrone may be in search of you already.”

“I think he will send Pietro to find me,” said Phil.

“Who is Pietro?”

Phil explained that Pietro was the padrone’s nephew and assisted in oppressing the boys.

“I hope he will send him,” said Paul.

Phil looked up in surprise.

“I should like to see this Pietro. What would he do if he should find you?”

“He would take me back.”

“If you did not want to go?”

“I couldn’t help it,” said Phil, shrugging his shoulders. “He is much bigger than I.”

“Is he bigger than I am?”

“I think he is as big.”

“He isn’t big enough to take you away if I am with you.”

Paul did not say this boastfully, but with a quiet confidence in his own powers in which he was justified. Though by no means quarrelsome, he had on several occasions been forced in self-defense into a contest with boys of his own size, and in some instances larger, and in every case he had acquitted himself manfully, and come off victorious.

“I should not be afraid if you were with me, Paolo,” said Phil.

“You are right, Phil,” said Paul, approvingly. “But here we are at the ferry.”

Cortlandt Street is a short distance below the Astor House, and leads to the ferry, connecting on the other side with trains bound for Philadelphia and intermediate places.

Paul paid the regular toll, and passed through the portal with Phil.

“Are you going with me?” asked the little fiddler, in surprise.

“Only to Jersey City, Phil. There might be some of your friends on board the boat. I want to see you safe on the cars. Then I must leave you.”

“You are very kind, Paolo.”

“You are a good little chap, Phil, and I mean to help you. But the boat is about ready to start. Let us go on board.”

They walked down the pier, and got on the boat a minute before it started. They did not pass through to the other end, but, leaning against the side, kept their eyes fixed on the city they were about to leave. They had not long to wait. The signal was heard, and the boat started leisurely from the pier. It was but ten feet distant, when the attention of Paul and Phil was drawn to a person running down the drop in great haste. He evidently wanted to catch the boat, but was too late.

Phil clutched at Paul’s arm, and pointed to him in evident excitement.

“It is Pietro,” he said.

At that moment Pietro, standing on the brink, caught sight of the boy he was pursuing, looking back at him from the deck of the ferry-boat. A look of exultation and disappointment swept over his face as he saw Phil, but realized that he was out of his reach. He had a hand-organ with him, and this had doubtless encumbered him, and prevented his running as fast as he might otherwise.

“So that is Pietro, is it?” said Paul, regarding him attentively in order to fix his face in his memory.

“Yes, Paolo,” said Phil, his eyes fixed nervously upon his pursuer, who maintained his place, and was watching him with equal attention.

“You are not frightened, Phil, are you?”

Phil admitted that he was.

“He will come over in the next boat,” he said.

“But he will not know where you are.”

“He will seek me.”

“Will he? Then I think he will be disappointed. The cars will start on the other side before the next boat arrives. I found out about that before we started.”

Phil felt relieved by this intelligence, but still he was nervous. Knowing well Pietro’s malice, he dreaded the chances of his capturing him.

“He stays there. He does not go away,” said Phil.

“It will do him no good, Phil. He is like a cat watching a canary bird beyond his reach. I don’t think he will catch you to-day.”

“He may go in the cars, too,” suggested Phil.

“That is true. On the whole, Phil, when you get to Newark, I advise you to walk into the country. Don’t stay in the city. He might find you there.”

“I will do what you say, Paolo. It will be better.”

They soon reached the Jersey shore. The railroad station was close by. They went thither at once, and Phil bought a ticket for Newark.

“How soon will the cars start?” inquired Paul of a railway official.

“In five minutes,” was the answer.

“Then, Phil, I advise you to get into the cars at once. Take a seat on the opposite side, though there is no chance of your being seen by Pietro, who will get here too late. Still, it is best to be on the safe side. I will stay near the ferry and watch Pietro when he lands. Perhaps I will have a little conversation with him.”

“I will go, Paolo.”

“Well, good-by, Phil, and good luck,” said Paul, cheerfully. “If you ever come to New York, come to see me.”

“Yes, Paolo, I will