CHAPTER XV

BOB BECOMES A TRAVELLING PHOTOGRAPHER

Bob did not know if he was walking on stone or the air when he left the Maverick mansion. To him it seemed as if the vista of good fortune had opened to its very widest limit.

“I must be dreaming,” he murmured. “Bet a cent I wake up in the loft of old Carrow’s barn and find it all a dream.”

And the youth actually pinched himself to make sure that he was not asleep.

It was past eleven o’clock, but though Bob might have taken a horse-car to his boarding-house, he preferred to walk, knowing full well that even when he came to lie down, he would not be able to sleep for speculating over all that had happened.

The night was a gloomy one, and presently, without hardly any warning, it began to rain. At first the drops were few and far between, but before the youth had gone a block farther the shower turned into a deluge, and Bob scampered for shelter.

Not far away was a shed over the front of a butcher shop. Under this shed ran Bob, and huddled close to the building to avoid the rain which the rising wind drove in.

Bob had been under the shed probably three minutes when a man and a woman came out of the hall-way beside the butcher shop, and stood watching the rain.

“We will get all wet, Paul, if we try to leave in this storm,” Bob heard the woman say.

“It may break away in a few minutes, Sarah,” returned the man. “It is only a shower.”

“Showers sometimes last a long time,” was the reply.

The sound of the woman’s voice was somewhat familiar to Bob, and he moved forward a bit to get a look at her face. She was the same he had seen in Cabot’s establishment, the one he rightly supposed was Sarah Blake.

Instantly he was all attention, and, pulling his hat still farther over his eyes, he edged close to the open door-way.

“You saw the old man?” went on the man called Paul, after a short pause.

“I did.”

“And you could do nothing with him?”

“No. He loves drink, and will do almost anything to obtain it. The case is hopeless.”

“You offered him money, I suppose?”

“I offered him what I could. But it was not enough. He said he would take care of himself, and told me to leave him.”

“That crowd evidently have him well in hand.”

“I am afraid so, Paul.”

“Well, the best thing you can do is to let the whole matter drop. You have done your duty.”

“I know, but----”

“Remember, he is only your stepfather, and if you insist on following him up, you may get into trouble.”

“But, Paul, I feel that he has not done right. He was mixed up in some crooked work, and I am afraid every day that I will hear of his arrest.”

“You take too much on your shoulders, Sarah,” returned the man, earnestly. “You had better come back home with me and let the matter drop. This travelling around under an assumed name and stopping in such a boarding-house as this----”

Bob heard no more. A violent gust of wind shut the door with a bang, and all became dark and dreary once more.

Bob hesitated, not knowing what to do. Should he knock on the door and ask the woman for an interview?

While he was deliberating, the door opened again, and the man came out. He hurried up to the corner, where stood a cab, and got in.

Was he going to leave the woman behind? It certainly looked so.

But an instant later the woman came out and with all speed she ran toward the cab.

Bob dashed forward, but before he could stop the woman she had entered the cab beside the man, and the driver whipped up the horses.

Away went the cab at a high rate of speed.

Bob tried to catch on behind, to signal the driver to stop, but he failed in both. He slipped on the wet stones, and went down on one knee, and by the time he arose the cab had disappeared in the darkness.

Bob was much chagrined. He felt almost certain that the woman could have told him something concerning the past.

“And that’s not the worst of it,” grumbled Bob to himself. “It’s bad enough to let them slip, but they are most likely going out of town, and goodness only knows when I’ll see her again.”

He turned back under the shed again, and dashing the water from his hat, and wiping off one of his hands, which had become covered with dirt, he rang the hall bell.

A moment of utter silence passed, and then a tall, sour-faced woman, evidently an old maid, appeared.

“Good-evening,” said Bob, politely. “I called to find out if you could tell me where that lady and gentleman who just left had gone to.”

“No, I can’t,” snapped the woman. “What do you want to know for?”

“I wish to see the lady.”

“So did several men. But she’s gone, and I’m glad of it.”

“Will you please tell me her name?”

“I don’t know it. She said it was Brown, but perhaps it isn’t. I didn’t like her, and I’m glad the man came and took her away.”

“Do you know where she came from?”

“No. She paid in advance, and I needed the money, so I took her in. But she was too sly for me. Is that all you wanted to know?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Without another word, the woman shut the door in Bob’s face and locked it. Bob could not help but smile to himself.

“Something didn’t suit,” he murmured to himself. “Rain or no rain, I’m going to try to follow that cab.”

He started off at once in the direction the cab had taken, running as fast as the slippery pavement would allow.

But though he traversed several blocks, no vehicle of any kind outside of a horse-car appeared in sight, and finally he was forced to abandon the chase.

On the following day Bob and Mr. Starleigh had a long talk in regard to the youth’s future. The upshot of this talk was that Bob agreed to work for nothing for two weeks, providing the old photographer would teach him as much of the business as possible in that length of time.

Bob was slightly worried over the question of what to do with his horse and wagon during that time, but Mr. Maverick solved it by telling Bob to leave the turn-out in charge of the stable-hand until he started away from Stampton.

The two weeks passed rapidly, and Bob spent every hour of the time in devouring every item of information which might prove useful to him while taking pictures on the road.

During that time Grace Maverick came to the studio to have her picture taken. Mr. Starleigh allowed Bob to do the work, which proved highly satisfactory. When Bob printed and mounted the pictures, he made an extra one, but this did not go among the studio samples.

“I’ll keep that for my own,” said Bob to himself.

At length the day came for Bob to quit the studio. Mr. Starleigh shook him warmly by the hand.

“I am sorry to lose you, Bob,” he said. “But I am glad you are going to start on your own account with such bright prospects. I have taught you all in my power, and you ought to be able to get along very well.”

“Thanks, Mr. Starleigh, and I won’t forget what you’ve done for me,” returned Bob.

Bob had received full instructions from the railroad superintendent as to what sort of pictures were desired. He was to go along the entire length of the road, and the original order for thirty pictures had been increased to fifty, to include sections of the roadbed, bridges, and views of the scenery on the route and in the vicinity.

“And do your best, Bob,” said Grace Maverick.

“You can take my word I will,” replied the youth. “And if you will allow me, I will occasionally send you a few private pictures, taken by the way.”

“Oh, that will be delightful!”

He shook her hand. The extra squeeze he gave it was returned, and both blushed. Then he turned to Mr. Maverick, bade him good-by, and drove off.

Bob the Photographer had started on his first travelling tour. Little did he dream of the many adventures and perils he was to encounter before he returned to Stampton.

The horse that had been presented to him was a good one, and he started off at a lively gait. The wagon moved along easily, and Bob, seated up in front, whip in hand, felt in the best of spirits.

His first stop was to be at a place called Dartinville, a small town, situated on the mountain side. It was a great place for summer boarders, all of whom had to come by way of the T. W. & L. Railroad.

The road to Dartinville ran along the side of a narrow but deep creek. It was rather a rough road, with the mountains directly back of it.

As Bob drove along, he began to whistle, but presently the whistle died on his lips, as he heard the rush of wheels directly behind him.

He looked back, and saw a horse tearing toward him at a breakneck speed.

Behind the horse was a sulky, and clinging to the seat of this was a bareheaded man, who seemed to be paralyzed with fright.

Bob’s heart jumped into his throat. What was to be done?

“Steer out!” he yelled to the man, as the horse and turn-out came nearer.

“I can’t! Stop the horse!” yelled the occupant of the sulky, in terror.

“I can’t stop him. Steer out or there will be a smash-up,” went on Bob.

The man paid no attention. He had dropped the lines, which were trailing on the horse’s heels, and he did not have courage enough to risk letting go his hold in an endeavor to pick them up.

Bob saw that something must be done, and at once. He caught up his own reins, and at the risk of upsetting his wagon turned in toward the mountain slope.

“Steer out, I tell you!” he cried again. “If you run into me, you’ll be killed.”

“Stop the horse!” was the man’s only reply.

With a bound, Bob was on the ground. He ran back of his own wagon as fast as his legs would carry him.

By this time the runaway was but a few feet away. Seeing Bob in the road, the horse sheered in and darted past the youth.

Bob gave a groan. The runaway was now less than five yards from his own turn-out, and it looked as if he would dash headlong into it and thus smash it into a thousand bits.

“Whoa!” yelled Bob, in one mighty, final effort to attract the mad steed’s attention.

The horse heard the command, gave a snort, and shook his head. Then he swerved outward, and flew past Bob’s turn-out, just grazing one of the rear wheels.

Bob rushed forward, but before he could catch the mad animal the horse swerved still more, made a leap, and plunged into the water, dragging the sulky, with the man on it, after him.

[Illustration: THE HORSE PLUNGED INTO THE WATER, DRAGGING THE SULKY, WITH THE MAN ON IT, AFTER HIM.]