AN ENCOUNTER ON THE ROAD.

After the hotel bill was paid at Chambersburgh, Neka found himself with exactly three dollars and fifty cents in his pocket. Longfellow Wadsworth had about the same amount.

The sum was not large, but it was a fact that it was considerably larger than Neka had ever possessed while under the so-styled care of Daniel Bambo. The circus proprietor had not only beaten and starved him, but it was rarely that Neka had a cent to spend on himself, and when he had it was usually money received from some kind-hearted spectator at the circus.

“Lock Haven is only four miles from here,” said Neka to the elocutionist. “Let us walk the distance. We can do it in a little over an hour, and save forty cents each in stage fare.”

“I see you have the principle of saving installed in you,” replied Longfellow Wadsworth. “A good trait, my son; wish I could say as much for myself. I will hie myself to the bar for an eye-opener, and then do as you suggest.”

The elocutionist went off, and when he came back, a quarter of an hour later, his breath smelled strongly of liquor. However, he had not been drinking to excess, and they started off at a rapid gait. Neka, with a bundle done up in brown paper, and his partner with a cheap and shiny hand satchel, purchased at the town second-hand establishment.

The day was clear and cool, the road a good one, and both went on in the best of spirits, the elocutionist even breaking out now and then in a bit of song, while Neka amused himself by imitating several song birds he heard.

“By the way,” remarked Longfellow Wadsworth, suddenly, “I have been thinking of your personal history, Neka. Where do you suppose you sprang from?”

“I haven’t the slightest idea,” replied the boy, and a momentary look of sadness crossed his handsome face.

“But you must have come from somewhere,” persisted Longfellow Wadsworth.

“That’s true, but who my father and mother were I never heard.”

“Did those people in Cleveland ever say anything about it?”

“Not a word. All I ever heard was from old Jerry Brown, who, as I told you, said Daniel Bambo had no claim on me.”

“Then this Brown must have known something about you.”

“That is true. But his secret died with him.”

The elocutionist shook his head and ran his hand through his hair thoughtfully.

“It’s a pity he didn’t tell you more,” he went on. “Maybe you belong to some rich folks and were stolen from home.”

“And maybe not, as the song says,” laughed Neka. “No, I am not building up any false hopes,” he added, soberly. “I reckon I was just a poor nobody, and that’s all.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d make this Daniel Bambo knuckle down some day and tell me all about myself.”

“I intend to do that--when I can. But at present I am satisfied to keep out of his clutches.”

“Of course. One can do but little when one is--ahem--in pecuniary straits, as it were.”

“That’s so,” concluded Neka, and there the subject was dropped.

But the boy did not forget. He kept on wondering about the past. Would it ever be cleared up, or must his parentage be forever shrouded in mystery?

How soon would he again meet the cruel circus proprietor, and would Daniel Bambo compel him to rejoin the Greatest Aggregation of Marvels on the Globe once more?

“Not if I can help it,” muttered Neka, to himself. “I’ll fight tooth and nail first, and refuse to perform.”

All of which went to show that the spirit of personal liberty was growing stronger in the boy every hour.

About half the distance to Lock Haven was covered, when they came to a slight hollow. Here were a number of bushes and a fallen tree, and the elocutionist proposed they take a brief rest.

“We are in no tremendous hurry,” he said. “And it won’t do to enter Lock Haven looking fagged out.”

So they sat down. Behind them were a number of chestnut trees, the nuts of which were just ripening.

“I’ll go up and shake some down,” said Neka, and up he went without delay.

Chestnuts in hand, they remained in the hollow until the nuts were eaten. Then Longfellow Wadsworth wandered a short distance away, to look at the surroundings, so he said, but in reality to take a draught from a black flask he had procured at the hotel bar-room. Drink was his one great weakness, and he could not quit it entirely so long as he possessed the means to satisfy the craving.

When the elocutionist was gone, Neka laid down on the log in the sunshine. It was a pleasant thing to do, rest instead of working like a slave around the dirty canvas of the circus. How glad he was that he had left that life behind!

Neka had been resting less than three minutes when a form stole out of the woods and came up behind him. The form was that of the man who the day previous had attempted to steal Harry Lardale’s bicycle.

“That same kid!” muttered the would-be thief to himself. “Now I have the chance to git square with him!”

He gazed around, and seeing a heavy stick close at hand, picked it up. Then he came up noiselessly behind Neka.

A single blow, swiftly delivered, caused Neka to utter a sharp groan and roll from the log to the earth. The man stood ready to deliver a second blow, but it was unnecessary. Neka was unconscious, with the blood streaming from a wound back of his left ear.

Fearful of being seen, the man gazed around again. No one was in sight, but he heard footsteps among the fallen leaves in the woods. He ran his hands into Neka’s pockets, and brought forth the boy’s money.

“Humph! not much, but better’n nothin’,” he muttered.

And then, picking up the bundle in brown paper and the shiny satchel, he hurried up the road and into the woods at a point several hundred feet farther on.

“Neka, come here and see what I have found!” called out Longfellow Wadsworth.

Receiving no reply, he called again.

“Must have gone to sleep,” he said to himself, and he came out on the road, a richly embroidered skate bag in his hand.

“By Jove!” he exclaimed, in horror. “Has the lad committed suicide?”

He rushed forward and raised Neka up. Then he saw the cut back of the ear. A bump was forming rapidly.

“Struck from behind, as sure as fate! Where is the dastardly villain who committed this most atrocious deed? Poor boy!”

He ran to a nearby puddle of water, and soaked a rather dirty handkerchief in it, then, returning, bound the cloth around Neka’s head over the wound. By the time this was accomplished the youth opened his eyes and gave a low gasp.

“Oh!” he groaned. “Did you hit me?”

“Not I,” responded Longfellow Wadsworth, reproachfully. “Neka, what makes you fancy me a villain of such deep dye?”

“I didn’t know--I thought you might have thrown a stone up the chestnut tree, and----”

“Ah, I see; you meant did I hit you by accident. No, I threw no stone, my son.”

“Then somebody attacked me with a club, I reckon.” Neka sat up and blinked his eyes. “What a rap he did give me! Can you see anything of him?”

“I will make a search.”

The elocutionist was as good as his word; he ran both up and down the road, and into the woods on both sides. But the hunt for the thief was useless, and in a quarter of an hour he came back, exhausted and angry.

“I see my bag is gone and your bundle----” he began.

“And every cent of my money,” added Neka, feeling in his pockets. “Whoever did the deed knocked me out to rob me.”

“It must have been done quickly,” observed the elocutionist. “As quickly as that bicycle thief took that young man’s wheel.”

“I believe it was the same chap!” burst out Neka. “He said he would remember me. Like as not, he has been hanging around waiting for a chance to get square.”

“That is not improbable, Neka. Well, the fates are against us, it would seem. After our success of last night, here we are stranded again, with less than two dollars and a half to our credit.”

And Longfellow Wadsworth counted out the sum total he possessed.

“You are better off than I, for I have nothing----”

“Say not so, my son. See, here is a paltry two dollars and forty-three cents. One-half is yours. No, no, it is yours, for Longfellow Wadsworth has said so. I’ll divide the sordid pile, one dollar and twenty-one each and a cent extra. I’ll flip it up, heads for you, tails for me. It comes down heads, and is yours. Now do we once more stand on an equal plane.”

And the elocutionist, with a flourish, thrust the bill and the change into Neka’s grasp.

“You are kind,” began the boy.

“Don’t mention it, my son. Are we not partners? United we stand, divided we fall. Come, if you are able, let us be on our way. Who knows but what we may yet conquer fate and incidentally bring that rascal to justice?”