From Farm to Fortune; or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience by Jr. Horatio Alger (great books of all time .TXT) 📕

a good walker, and found it was only half-past nine when he got there. To while away the time he determined to walk out on the Brooklyn Bridge and take in the sights from that elevated structure.

Making his way through the crowd on Park Row, he was soon out on the bridge, and walking in the direction of Brooklyn. There was a stiff breeze blowing, and several times his hat was almost lifted from his head.

Suddenly he heard a shout, and saw a stout man running wildly after some papers which the wind was carrying along the walk on the bridge. The man secured one of the papers, but two others were fast blowing beyond his reach, when Nat rushed up and secured them just as they were on the point of being carried into the river.

"Have—you—got them?" puffed the man, as Nat came towards him.

"Yes, sir. Here you are," and Nat held out the papers.

"Good! I was afraid they were lost to me!" And the stranger heaved a heavy sigh of relief.

"Were they valuable?" asked our hero, curiously.

"Quite so. They are the legal documents in an important real estate case now before the courts. It was very kind of you to pick them up for me."

"Oh, it wasn't so much to do," answered Nat.

"Nevertheless, I am much obliged," added the stout man, warmly. "I shouldn't have come out on the bridge with them. But I love to get the breeze. I think it does me good. Much obliged;" and then he passed on.

"I guess he's a lawyer, or a real estate dealer," thought Nat. "Well, he ought to walk. It may take some of the fat off of him."

Nat walked half-way to Brooklyn, and then back again. Shortly after eleven o'clock he presented himself at the proper window of the post office.

"Has the eleven o'clock mail been sorted yet?" he asked.

"Certainly."

"Have you any letters for Samuel Barrows?"

The clerk looked through one of the boxes beside him.

"Nothing," he answered, briefly.

"Nothing at all?"

The post office clerk shook his head. Seeing this Nat walked away, and started back for the office.

He did not suspect that his employer had sent him to the post office merely to get him out of the office, yet such was the fact. Hamilton Dart had no brother-in-law named Samuel Barrows.

As a matter of fact, Hamilton Dart—that was not his real name, but let us use it for the present, nevertheless—was nothing but a swindler. He was worth only a few hundred dollars, and his brokerage and commission business was such in name only.

While Nat was on his post office errand, Hamilton Dart had two other callers. The first was a bright young man, hailing from Newark, New Jersey.

"I am sure you will suit me," said Hamilton Dart, after questioning the young man. "I am very much pleased with your appearance."

"Thank you," was the brief answer.

"You may go to work to-morrow at twelve dollars per week. Will that suit?"

"Yes, sir."

"You will, of course, put up one hundred dollars as security," added the assumed broker.

"What security will you give?" demanded the bright young man from Newark.

"Oh, I'll give you my personal note," answered Hamilton Dart, carelessly.

"Well, I'll think it over."

"Eh? I thought you wanted to accept on the spot?" demanded the swindler.

"No, sir," answered the young man. He intended to make some inquiries into Hamilton Dart's financial standing before investing his cash. "I'll come around again to-morrow morning."

"I shall give the place to somebody else before that time," was the cold response.

"If you do, I'll be out of it," was the equally cold answer of the young Jerseyman, and he walked out of the office.

"One fish I didn't land," muttered Hamilton Dart to himself. "Better luck next time."

Hardly had the young man left than a sickly-looking middle-aged man appeared. He had been in the hospital for two months, and out of work for twice that length of time.

"You advertised for a clerk," he said, sitting down on a chair.

"Yes."

"I am a bookkeeper, and an all-round office man," added the sick man. "I am willing to work hard for low wages."

"I am always willing to pay good wages to the right man," answered Hamilton Dart, smoothly.

At this the face of the sick man brightened.

"I have been sick," he went on, apologetically. "But I am getting stronger every day."

"Well, the work here is not very hard."

"What could you pay me?"

"Twelve dollars per week."

"That would suit me nicely."

"Then you can come to work to-morrow. But you will have to put up one hundred dollars as security. On that I will allow you six per cent. interest."

At this announcement the face of the sick man fell.

"I am very sorry, sir, but I haven't the money. My sickness has reduced me almost to my last dollar."

"Then I can't hire you," said Hamilton Dart, harshly.

"I can give you some excellent references, sir."

"No, I don't care for references. My clerks have to furnish cash security. I employ no others. You had better see if you can't raise the money."

"I don't know how I can do it."

"Haven't you any friends or relatives?"

"I have a sister in Brooklyn. She might possibly loan the amount."

"Then you had better see her. I will keep the place open for you for a couple of days."

The sick man pleaded to be taken on, but Hamilton Dart was obdurate, and at last the visitor left the office.

"Hang the luck; he must take me for a charity association," muttered the swindler. "Two lost! This business isn't paying as well as I hoped it would."

When Nat came back he was somewhat tired from his long tramp. He asked his employer what he should do next.

"Go and get your lunch, and be back in an hour," was the answer.

Hardly had Nat left the office than a young fellow named Harry Bray appeared. He had been in to see Hamilton Dart before and carried a hundred dollars in his vest pocket.

"I will take the position," he said, and handed over his money, which the swindler pocketed with alacrity.

"When shall I go to work?" asked Harry Bray.

"After lunch. You will have another new clerk to help you, a fellow named Nat Nason," answered Hamilton Dart.

CHAPTER XIII A SWINDLE EXPOSED

When Nat came back from lunch he was introduced to Harry Bray, and Hamilton Dart brought forth several packages of old bills and letters and also a couple of cheap blank books.

"I want these things sorted out," said he. "Enter all names in the books, and file them away according to date."

This seemed easy work, and both of the young clerks said they understood what was wanted. Then Hamilton Dart put on his hat and left the office.

"I won't be back this afternoon," he said. "Lock up at five o'clock, and you, Bray, can take the key."

"Yes, sir," answered Harry Bray.

"This isn't very hard," was Nat's comment, when he was left alone with his fellow clerk.

"It is about as easy a job as I ever struck," answered Harry Bray.

"It's queer there are no customers coming in," said Nat, an hour later. "Mr. Dart must do most of his business outside."

"A good many brokers do, Nat. They have to hustle for business or they don't get any."

The afternoon passed, and at the proper time Nat left the office and went home.

"You've certainly struck a soft snap," said Dick, when the country boy had related his experience. "Wish I could strike a snap like that."

"Perhaps you will some day," answered Nat. "Come, I'll give you a lesson in writing and figures to-night," and he did. Dick was a bright scholar, so it proved a pleasure more than a task to teach him.

Promptly on time the following morning, Nat went to the office. At the door he met Harry Bray, who had just come in from his home on Staten Island. They opened up the office together, one doing the sweeping and the other the dusting.

"In most places like this, the office boy or the janitor does such work," said Harry.

"I don't mind it in the least," answered Nat.

"Oh, neither do I."

They began on their work where they had left off, and about an hour later their employer put in an appearance.

"Hard at it, eh?" he said, cheerily. "That's the way I like to see things move. Nat, I want you to go to the post office again."

"Yes, sir."

In a few minutes our hero had departed, and then Hamilton Dart turned to Harry Bray.

"Bray, here is an important document to deliver to a party living near Central Park," said he. "Deliver it, and get a receipt."

"I will, sir," answered Harry Bray, and in a minute more he, too, was gone.

An hour later there was a knock on the door, and the sick man, who had called the day before, came in.

"Is that situation still open?" he questioned, anxiously.

"Why do you ask?" demanded Hamilton Dart, abruptly.

"I was going to say that I borrowed that money from my sister."

"Oh! Have you it with you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then, if you wish the job, you can take it right now. Another man is coming to see me about it in an hour."

"I'll take the job," said Oliver Ripple, quickly, and brought forth his money. Hamilton Dart took it, and gave his usual receipt.

"What interest do I get on this?" asked the new clerk, anxiously.

"Six per cent."

"Thank you. I told my sister I thought as much. She had the money in the bank, but that only paid her three per cent. Six per cent. will be twice as good."

"You may come to work to-morrow morning at nine," said Hamilton Dart.

"I'll go to work to-day, if you say so, Mr. Dart."

"No, my other clerks can take care of the work to-day. Both of them are now out on errands."

When Oliver Ripple was gone, Hamilton Dart smiled broadly to himself.

"Three of them," he murmured. "That's not so bad, after all. I wonder if that chap who was to come at half-past ten will show up?"

When Nat left the post office he found no letters for Samuel Barrows.

"Mr. Dart will be disappointed again," he thought. "But it is not my fault."

The afternoon passed quietly. Only one man called at the office, and when he found Hamilton Dart was not in he disappeared immediately.

That evening Nat gave Dick another lesson, for which the newsboy was very grateful.

"No wonder you got that job," said Dick. "You can figure like lightning, and write fine, too."

"I don't have to figure much at the office."

"How do you like your boss?"

"I haven't really seen enough of him to make up my mind."

"He must be full of business."

"I suppose that is so."

When Nat went to the office on the following day he again met Harry Bray at the entrance. They went upstairs together, and found two men standing in the hallway, near the door of the office. As soon as they entered the place the men followed them.

"Neither of these young chaps is the man," said one of the newcomers, in a low voice.

"Where is Mr. Hamilton Dart?" asked the other.

"I can't say, sir," answered Harry Bray. "He may be here shortly."

"Are you a partner in this concern?"

"No, sir. I am a clerk."

"Are you a clerk, too?" asked the man, turning to Nat.

"Yes, sir. Is there anything we can do for you?"

"Don't know as there is, young man," was the short answer. "We'll wait here for Mr. Dart."

A half-hour passed and Oliver Ripple put in an appearance.

"Where is Mr. Dart?" he asked, gazing around.

"He is not here yet," answered Nat.

"I am his new clerk. He engaged me yesterday, and told me to come to work this morning."

At this speech the two men who had come in gazed at the sick man curiously.

"So you were engaged yesterday?" asked one in a low tone.

"Yes."

"Excuse me, but I'd like to know if you put up any money as security?"

"I did—a hundred dollars."

"Ah!" And each of the two men looked at his companion significantly.

"Do you know Mr. Dart?" asked the sick man.

"We know of him."

"He does quite a business, doesn't he?"

"He does—in his own way," was the suggestive answer.

At that moment came a tramping on the stairs. Then the office door was thrown open, and Hamilton Dart appeared.

"There he is!" cried one of the men. "Just as I thought!"

He started for the doorway, but Hamilton Dart was too quick for him. He backed away, leaped for the stairs, and went down flight after flight, four and five steps at a time. Both men gave chase, but by the time they reached the sidewalk the swindler had disappeared.

"Hullo! what can this mean?" cried Nat, in quick alarm. "I