章节正文
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 be sure to come."
"And, Phil, though I don't think you will ever fall into the
power of that old brute again (I am sure you won't if you take
good care of yourself), still, if he does get you back again,
come to me the first chance you get, and I will see what I can do
for you."
"Thank you, Paolo. I will remember your kindness always," said
the little fiddler, gratefully
"That is all right, Phil. Good-by!"
"Good-by!" said Phil, and, shaking the hand of his new friend,
he ascended the steps, and took a seat on the opposite side, as
Paul had recommended.
"I am sorry to part with Phil," said Paul to himself. "He's a
fine little chap, and I like him. If ever that old brute gets
hold of him again, he shan't keep him long. Now, Signor Pietro,
I'll go back and see you on your arrival."
Phil was right in supposing that Pietro would take passage on the
next boat. He waited impatiently on the drop till it touched,
and sprang on board. He cursed the interval of delay, fearing
that it would give Phil a chance to get away. However, there was
no help for this. Time and tide wait for no man, but it often
happens that we are compelled to wait for them. But at length
the boat touched the Jersey shore, and Pietro sprang out and
hurried to the gates, looking eagerly on all sides for a possible
glimpse of the boy he sought. He did not see him, for the cars
were already on their way, but his eyes lighted up with
satisfaction as they lighted on Paul, whom he recognized as the
companion of Phil. He had seen him talking to the little
fiddler. Probably he would know where he had gone. He walked up
to Paul, who was standing near, and, touching his cap, said:
"Excuse me, signore, but have you seen my little brother?"
"Your little brother?" repeated Paul, deliberately.
"Si, signore, a little boy with a fiddle. He was so high;" and
Pietro indicated the height of Phil correctly by his hand.
"There was a boy came over in the boat with me," said Paul.
"Yes, yes; he is the one, signore," said Pietro, eagerly.
"And he is your brother?"
"Si, signore."
"That's a lie," thought Paul, "I should know it even if Phil had
not told me. Phil is a handsome little chap. He wouldn't have
such a villainous-looking brother as you."
"Can you tell me where he has gone?" asked Pietro, eagerly.
"Didn't he tell you where he was going?" asked Paul, in turn.
"I think he means to run away," said Pietro. "Did you see where
he went?"
"Why should he want to run away?" asked Paul. who enjoyed
tantalizing Pietro, who he saw was chafing with impatience. "Did
you not treat him well?"
"He is a little rascal," said Pietro. "He is treated well, but
he is a thief."
"And you are his brother," repeated Paul, significantly.
"Did you see where he went?" asked Pietro, getting angry. "I
want to take him back to his father."
"How should I know?" returned Paul, coolly. "Do you think I
have nothing to do but to look after your brother?"
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" said Pietro, incensed.
"Don't get mad," said Paul, indifferently; "it won't do you any
good. Perhaps, if you look round, you will see your brother.
I'll tell him you want him if I see him."
Pietro looked at Paul suspiciously. It struck him that the
latter might be making a fool of him, but Paul looked so utterly
indifferent that he could judge nothing from his appearance. He
concluded that Phil was wandering about somewhere in Jersey City.
It did not occur to him that he might have taken the cars for
some more distant place. At any rate, there seemed no chance of
getting any information out of Paul. So he adjusted his
hand-organ and walked up the street leading from the ferry,
looking sharply on either side, hoping to catch a glimpse of the
runaway; but, of course, in vain.
"I don't think you'll find Phil to-day, Signor Pietro," said Paul
to himself, as he watched his receding form. "Now, as there is
nothing more to be done here, I will go back to business."
CHAPTER XIX
PIETRO'S PURSUIT
The distance from New York to Newark is but ten miles. Phil had
been there once before with an older boy. He was at no loss,
therefore, as to the proper place to get out. He stepped from
the cars and found himself in a large depot. He went out of a
side door, and began to wander about the streets of Newark. Now,
for the first time, he felt that he was working for himself, and
the feeling was an agreeable one. True, he did not yet feel
wholly secure. Pietro might possibly follow in the next train.
He inquired at the station when the next train would arrive.
"In an hour," was the reply.
It would be an hour, therefore, before Pietro could reach Newark.
He decided to walk on without stopping till he reached the
outskirts of the city, and not venture back till nightfall, when
there would be little or no danger.
Accordingly he plodded on for an hour and a half, till he came
where the houses were few and scattered at intervals. In a
business point of view this was not good policy, but safety was
to be consulted first of all. He halted at length before a
grocery store, in front of which he saw a small group of men
standing. His music was listened to with attention, but when he
came to pass his cap round afterward the result was small. In
fact, to be precise, the collection amounted to but eight cents.
"How's business, boy?" asked a young man who stood at the door
in his shirt-sleeves, and was evidently employed in the grocery.
"That is all I have taken," said Phil, showing the eight cents.
"Did you come from New York this morning?"
"Yes."
"Then you haven't got enough to pay for your ticket yet?"
Phil shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't believe you'll make your fortune out here."
Phil was of precisely the same opinion, but kept silent.
"You would have done better to stay in New York."
To this also Phil mentally assented, but there were imperative
reasons, as we know, for leaving the great city.
It was already half-past twelve, and Phil began, after his walk,
to feel the cravings of appetite. He accordingly went into the
grocery and bought some crackers and cheese, which he sat down by
the stove and ate.
"Are you going farther?" asked the same young man who had
questioned him before.
"I shall go back to Newark to-night," said Phil.
"Let me try your violin."
"Can you play?" asked Phil, doubtfully, for he feared that an
unpracticed player might injure the instrument.
"Yes, I can play. I've got a fiddle at home myself."
Our hero surrendered his fiddle to the young man, who played
passably.
"You've got a pretty good fiddle," he said. "I think it's better
than mine. Can you play any dancing tunes?"
Phil knew one or two, and played them.
"If you were not going back to Newark, I should like to have you
play with me this evening. I don't have anybody to practice
with."
"I would not know where to sleep," said Phil, hesitatingly.
"Oh, we've got beds enough in our house. Will you stay?"
Phil reflected that he had no place to sleep in Newark except
such as he might hire, and decided to accept the offer of his new
friend.
"This is my night off from the store," he said. "I haven't got
to come back after supper. Just stay around here till six
o'clock. Then I'll take you home and give you some supper, and
then we'll play this evening."
Phil had no objection to this arrangement. In fact, it promised
to be an agreeable one for him. As he was sure of a supper, a
bed and breakfast, there was no particular necessity for him to
earn anything more that day. However, he went out for an hour or
two, and succeeded in collecting twenty-five cents. He realized,
however, that it was not so easy to pick up pennies in the
country as in the city--partly because population is sparser and
partly because, though there is less privation in the country,
there is also less money.
A little before six Phil's new friend, whose name he ascertained
was Edwin Grover, washed his hands, and, putting on his coat,
said "Come along, Phil."
Phil, who had been sitting near the stove, prepared to accompany
him.
"We haven't got far to go," said Edwin, who was eighteen. "I am
glad of that, for the sooner I get to the supper table the
better."
After five minutes' walk they stopped at a comfortable two-story
house near the roadside.
"That's where I put up," said Edwin.
He opened the door and entered, followed by Phil, who felt a
little bashful, knowing that he was not expected.
"Have you got an extra plate, mother?" asked Edwin. "This is a
professor of the violin, who is going to help me make some music
"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 be sure to come."
"And, Phil, though I don't think you will ever fall into the
power of that old brute again (I am sure you won't if you take
good care of yourself), still, if he does get you back again,
come to me the first chance you get, and I will see what I can do
for you."
"Thank you, Paolo. I will remember your kindness always," said
the little fiddler, gratefully
"That is all right, Phil. Good-by!"
"Good-by!" said Phil, and, shaking the hand of his new friend,
he ascended the steps, and took a seat on the opposite side, as
Paul had recommended.
"I am sorry to part with Phil," said Paul to himself. "He's a
fine little chap, and I like him. If ever that old brute gets
hold of him again, he shan't keep him long. Now, Signor Pietro,
I'll go back and see you on your arrival."
Phil was right in supposing that Pietro would take passage on the
next boat. He waited impatiently on the drop till it touched,
and sprang on board. He cursed the interval of delay, fearing
that it would give Phil a chance to get away. However, there was
no help for this. Time and tide wait for no man, but it often
happens that we are compelled to wait for them. But at length
the boat touched the Jersey shore, and Pietro sprang out and
hurried to the gates, looking eagerly on all sides for a possible
glimpse of the boy he sought. He did not see him, for the cars
were already on their way, but his eyes lighted up with
satisfaction as they lighted on Paul, whom he recognized as the
companion of Phil. He had seen him talking to the little
fiddler. Probably he would know where he had gone. He walked up
to Paul, who was standing near, and, touching his cap, said:
"Excuse me, signore, but have you seen my little brother?"
"Your little brother?" repeated Paul, deliberately.
"Si, signore, a little boy with a fiddle. He was so high;" and
Pietro indicated the height of Phil correctly by his hand.
"There was a boy came over in the boat with me," said Paul.
"Yes, yes; he is the one, signore," said Pietro, eagerly.
"And he is your brother?"
"Si, signore."
"That's a lie," thought Paul, "I should know it even if Phil had
not told me. Phil is a handsome little chap. He wouldn't have
such a villainous-looking brother as you."
"Can you tell me where he has gone?" asked Pietro, eagerly.
"Didn't he tell you where he was going?" asked Paul, in turn.
"I think he means to run away," said Pietro. "Did you see where
he went?"
"Why should he want to run away?" asked Paul. who enjoyed
tantalizing Pietro, who he saw was chafing with impatience. "Did
you not treat him well?"
"He is a little rascal," said Pietro. "He is treated well, but
he is a thief."
"And you are his brother," repeated Paul, significantly.
"Did you see where he went?" asked Pietro, getting angry. "I
want to take him back to his father."
"How should I know?" returned Paul, coolly. "Do you think I
have nothing to do but to look after your brother?"
"Why didn't you tell me that before?" said Pietro, incensed.
"Don't get mad," said Paul, indifferently; "it won't do you any
good. Perhaps, if you look round, you will see your brother.
I'll tell him you want him if I see him."
Pietro looked at Paul suspiciously. It struck him that the
latter might be making a fool of him, but Paul looked so utterly
indifferent that he could judge nothing from his appearance. He
concluded that Phil was wandering about somewhere in Jersey City.
It did not occur to him that he might have taken the cars for
some more distant place. At any rate, there seemed no chance of
getting any information out of Paul. So he adjusted his
hand-organ and walked up the street leading from the ferry,
looking sharply on either side, hoping to catch a glimpse of the
runaway; but, of course, in vain.
"I don't think you'll find Phil to-day, Signor Pietro," said Paul
to himself, as he watched his receding form. "Now, as there is
nothing more to be done here, I will go back to business."
CHAPTER XIX
PIETRO'S PURSUIT
The distance from New York to Newark is but ten miles. Phil had
been there once before with an older boy. He was at no loss,
therefore, as to the proper place to get out. He stepped from
the cars and found himself in a large depot. He went out of a
side door, and began to wander about the streets of Newark. Now,
for the first time, he felt that he was working for himself, and
the feeling was an agreeable one. True, he did not yet feel
wholly secure. Pietro might possibly follow in the next train.
He inquired at the station when the next train would arrive.
"In an hour," was the reply.
It would be an hour, therefore, before Pietro could reach Newark.
He decided to walk on without stopping till he reached the
outskirts of the city, and not venture back till nightfall, when
there would be little or no danger.
Accordingly he plodded on for an hour and a half, till he came
where the houses were few and scattered at intervals. In a
business point of view this was not good policy, but safety was
to be consulted first of all. He halted at length before a
grocery store, in front of which he saw a small group of men
standing. His music was listened to with attention, but when he
came to pass his cap round afterward the result was small. In
fact, to be precise, the collection amounted to but eight cents.
"How's business, boy?" asked a young man who stood at the door
in his shirt-sleeves, and was evidently employed in the grocery.
"That is all I have taken," said Phil, showing the eight cents.
"Did you come from New York this morning?"
"Yes."
"Then you haven't got enough to pay for your ticket yet?"
Phil shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't believe you'll make your fortune out here."
Phil was of precisely the same opinion, but kept silent.
"You would have done better to stay in New York."
To this also Phil mentally assented, but there were imperative
reasons, as we know, for leaving the great city.
It was already half-past twelve, and Phil began, after his walk,
to feel the cravings of appetite. He accordingly went into the
grocery and bought some crackers and cheese, which he sat down by
the stove and ate.
"Are you going farther?" asked the same young man who had
questioned him before.
"I shall go back to Newark to-night," said Phil.
"Let me try your violin."
"Can you play?" asked Phil, doubtfully, for he feared that an
unpracticed player might injure the instrument.
"Yes, I can play. I've got a fiddle at home myself."
Our hero surrendered his fiddle to the young man, who played
passably.
"You've got a pretty good fiddle," he said. "I think it's better
than mine. Can you play any dancing tunes?"
Phil knew one or two, and played them.
"If you were not going back to Newark, I should like to have you
play with me this evening. I don't have anybody to practice
with."
"I would not know where to sleep," said Phil, hesitatingly.
"Oh, we've got beds enough in our house. Will you stay?"
Phil reflected that he had no place to sleep in Newark except
such as he might hire, and decided to accept the offer of his new
friend.
"This is my night off from the store," he said. "I haven't got
to come back after supper. Just stay around here till six
o'clock. Then I'll take you home and give you some supper, and
then we'll play this evening."
Phil had no objection to this arrangement. In fact, it promised
to be an agreeable one for him. As he was sure of a supper, a
bed and breakfast, there was no particular necessity for him to
earn anything more that day. However, he went out for an hour or
two, and succeeded in collecting twenty-five cents. He realized,
however, that it was not so easy to pick up pennies in the
country as in the city--partly because population is sparser and
partly because, though there is less privation in the country,
there is also less money.
A little before six Phil's new friend, whose name he ascertained
was Edwin Grover, washed his hands, and, putting on his coat,
said "Come along, Phil."
Phil, who had been sitting near the stove, prepared to accompany
him.
"We haven't got far to go," said Edwin, who was eighteen. "I am
glad of that, for the sooner I get to the supper table the
better."
After five minutes' walk they stopped at a comfortable two-story
house near the roadside.
"That's where I put up," said Edwin.
He opened the door and entered, followed by Phil, who felt a
little bashful, knowing that he was not expected.
"Have you got an extra plate, mother?" asked Edwin. "This is a
professor of the violin, who is going to help me make some music
- intelligence [in´telidʒəns]
n.智力；消息 (初中英语单词) - knowing [´nəuiŋ] a.会意的，心照不宣的 (初中英语单词)
- jersey [´dʒə:zi] n.毛织运动衫；毛线衫 (初中英语单词)
- thither [´ðiðə] ad.到那里 a.那边的 (初中英语单词)
- advise [əd´vaiz] vt.忠告；建议；通知 (初中英语单词)
- sprang [spræŋ] spring 的过去式 (初中英语单词)
- interval [´intəvəl] n.间隙；(工间)休息 (初中英语单词)
- eagerly [´i:gəli] ad.渴望地，急切地 (初中英语单词)
- standing [´stændiŋ] n.持续 a.直立的 (初中英语单词)
- height [hait] n.高度；顶点；卓越 (初中英语单词)
- sharply [´ʃɑ:pli] ad.锋利地；剧烈地 (初中英语单词)
- glimpse [glimps] n.&v.瞥见 (初中英语单词)
- wander [´wɔndə, ´wɑ:n:dər] v.徘徊；流浪 (初中英语单词)
- working [´wə:kiŋ] a.工人的；劳动的 (初中英语单词)
- agreeable [ə´gri:əbəl] a.适合的；符合的 (初中英语单词)
- therefore [´ðeəfɔ:] ad.&conj.因此；所以 (初中英语单词)
- venture [´ventʃə] n.投机 v.冒险；敢于 (初中英语单词)
- collection [kə´lekʃən] n.收集；征收；募捐 (初中英语单词)
- evidently [´evidəntli] ad.明显地 (初中英语单词)
- appetite [´æpitait] n.欲望；食欲 (初中英语单词)
- accordingly [ə´kɔ:diŋli] ad.因此；从而；依照 (初中英语单词)
- cheese [tʃi:z] n.干酪，乳酪 (初中英语单词)
- player [´pleiə] n.游戏的人；选手 (初中英语单词)
- injure [´indʒə] vt.伤害，损害，毁坏 (初中英语单词)
- objection [əb´dʒekʃən] n.反对；异议；缺点 (初中英语单词)
- arrangement [ə´reindʒmənt] n.整理；排列；筹备 (初中英语单词)
- regarding [ri´gɑ:diŋ] prep.关于 (高中英语单词)
- malice [´mælis] n.恶意；怨恨；预谋 (高中英语单词)
- cheerfully [´tʃiəfuli] ad.高兴地，愉快地 (高中英语单词)
- repeated [ri´pi:tid] a.反复的；重复的 (高中英语单词)
- correctly [kə´rektli] ad.正确地；恰当地 (高中英语单词)
- decided [di´saidid] a.明显的；决定的 (高中英语单词)
- precisely [pri´saisli] ad.精确地；刻板地 (高中英语单词)
- nervously [´nə:vəsli] ad.神经质地；胆怯地 (英语四级单词)
- impatiently [im´peiʃəntli] ad.不耐烦地，急躁地 (英语四级单词)
- touching [´tʌtʃiŋ] a.动人的 prep.提到 (英语四级单词)
- fiddle [´fidl] n.小提琴 v.拉提琴 (英语四级单词)
- impatience [im´peiʃəns] n.不耐烦，急躁 (英语四级单词)
- coolly [´ku:li] ad.冷(静地)，沉着地 (英语四级单词)
- policy [´pɔlisi] n.政策；权谋；保险单 (英语四级单词)
- precise [pri´sais] a.精确的；清楚的 (英语四级单词)
- bashful [´bæʃful] a.害羞的，忸怩的 (英语四级单词)
- violin [,vaiə´lin] n.(小)提琴 (英语四级单词)
- indifferently [in´difrəntli] ad.不关心地；冷淡地 (英语六级单词)
- nightfall [´nait,fɔ:l] n.黄昏；傍晚 (英语六级单词)
- doubtfully [´dautfuli] ad.怀疑地，可疑地 (英语六级单词)
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章节正文
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