Grit or The Young Boatman of Pine Point 37
Half an hour passed, and poor Grit's reflections became decidedly gloomy
as his stomach became more and more troublesome. However, he was
perfectly helpless, and must wait till the man, or men, who had him in
their clutches, saw fit to provide for him.
Under these circumstances it may well be imagined that his heart leaped
for joy when he heard the bolt of the only door, already referred to,
slowly withdrawn with a rasping sound, as if it did not slide easily in
its socket.
He turned his eyes eagerly toward the door.
It was opened, and a tall, overgrown youth entered with a small basket
in his hand, which he set down on the floor while he carefully closed
the door.
"Hello, there! Where are you?" he asked, for his eyes were not used to
the darkness.
"Here I am," answered Grit. "I hope you've brought me some supper."
"Right you are!" said the youth. "Oh, now I see you."
The speaker was tall and overgrown, as I have said. He was also
painfully thin, and his clothes were two or three sizes too small for
him, so that his long, bony arms protruded from his coat-sleeves, and
his legs appeared to have outgrown his pants. His face was long, and his
cheeky were hollow.
"He reminds me of Smike, in 'Nicholas Nickleby,'" thought Grit.
"Take your supper, young one, and eat it quick," said the youth, for he
was not more than eighteen.
Grit needed no second invitation. He quickly explored the contents of
the basket. The supper consisted of cold meat and slices of bread and
butter, with a mug of tea. To Grit everything tasted delicious, and he
did not leave a crumb.
"My! haven't you got an appetite?" said the youth.
"I haven't had anything to eat since morning," said Grit
apologetically--"that is, only a sandwich."
"Say, what are you here for?" asked the youth curiously.
"I don't know," answered Grit.
"Honor bright?"
"Yes, honor bright. Do you live here?"
"Yes," answered the youth soberly.
"Is this man--Colonel Johnson--any relation of yours?"
"No."
"Where are your folks?"
"Haven't got any. Never had any as I know of."
"Have you always lived here?"
"Always lived with him," answered the boy, jerking his thumb in an
upward direction. "Sometimes here, sometimes in New York."
"Do you like to be with--him?"
"No."
"Why don't you run away?"
"Run away!" repeated the other, looking around him nervously. "He'd get
me back, and half kill me."
"There's some mystery about this boy," thought Grit. "Do you think he
will keep me here long?" he asked, in some anxiety.
"Can't say--maybe."
"What's your name?"
"Daniel."
"What's your other name?"
"Haven't got any."
"Daniel," said Grit, a thought striking him. "Do you ever go out--about
the city, I mean?"
"Oh, yes; I go to the post-office and other places."
"Will you carry a message for me to the Parker House?"
"I darsn't," said Daniel, trembling.
"No one will know it," pleaded Grit. "Besides, I'll give you--five
dollars," he added, after a pause.
"Have you got so much?" asked Daniel eagerly.
"Yes."
"Show it to me."
Grit did so.
"Yes, I'll do it," said the youth, after a pause; "but I must be careful
so he won't know."
"All right. When can you leave the house?"
"In the morning."
"That will suit me very well. Now, shall I see you again to-morrow
morning?"
"Yes, I shall bring you your breakfast."
"Very well; I will write a note, and will describe the gentleman you
are to hand it to."
"You'll be sure to give me the money?"
"Yes, I will give it to you before you go, if you will promise to do my
errand faithfully."
"I'll promise. I never had five dollars," continued Daniel. "There's
many things I can buy for five dollars."
"So you can," answered Grit, who began to perceive that this overgrown
youth was rather deficient mentally.
"You mustn't tell anybody that you are going to carry a message for me,"
said Grit, thinking the caution might be necessary.
"Oh, no, I darsn't," said Daniel quickly, and Grit was satisfied.
Our hero felt much more comfortable after he was left alone, partly in
consequence of the plain supper he had eaten, partly because he thought
he saw his way out of the trap into which he had been inveigled.
"To-morrow I hope to be free," he said to himself, as he lay down on the
floor and sought the refreshment of sleep.
Fortunately for him, he was feeling pretty well fatigued, and though it
was but eight o'clock, he soon lost consciousness of all that was
disagreeable in his situation under the benignant influence of sleep.
When Grit awoke, he had no idea what time it was, for there was no way
for light to enter the dark chamber.
"I hope it is almost breakfast-time," thought our hero, for he already
felt the stirrings of appetite, and besides, all his hope centered in
Daniel, whom he was then to see.
After awhile he heard the welcome sound of the bolt drawn back. Then a
sudden fear assailed him. It might be some one else, not Daniel, who
would bring his breakfast. If so, all his hopes would be dashed to the
ground, and he could fix no limit to his captivity. But his fears were
dissipated when he saw the long, lank youth, with the same basket which
he had brought the night before.
"Good morning, Daniel," said Grit joyfully. "I am glad to see you."
"You're hungry, I reckon," said the youth practically.
"Yes; but I wanted to see you, so as to give you my message. Are you
going out this morning?"
"Yes; I'm goin' to market."
"Can you go to the Parker House? You know where it is, don't you?"
"Yes; it is on School Street."
Grit was glad that Daniel knew, for he could not have told him.
Grit had written a note in pencil on a sheet of paper which he
fortunately had in his pocket. This he handed to Daniel, with full
instructions as to the outward appearance of Mr. Benjamin Baker, to whom
it was to be handed.
"Now give me the money," said Daniel.
"Here it is. Mind, Daniel, I expect you to serve me faithfully."
"All right!" said, the lank youth, as he disappeared through the door,
once more leaving Grit alone.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
DANIEL CALLS AT THE PARKER HOUSE.
It was half-past nine o'clock in the forenoon, and Mr. Benjamin Baker,
detective, sat smoking a cigar in the famous hotel on School Street,
known as "Parker's."
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