CHAPTER IX.
THE RESULT OF A FIRE

It was no wonder that Matt’s heart was filled with dismay when he saw the stable which contained the auction outfit being thus rapidly devoured by the flames. Almost every cent he possessed was invested in the horse, wagon and stock, and if they were consumed he would be left in New York City next to penniless.

Close to where he was standing was a grocery store, and rushing into this he threw his valise on the counter.

“Keep this for me, please!” he cried to the proprietor. “I want to try to save my horse and wagon!”

And before the grocer could reply he was out of the store again, and running toward the burning stable as fast as his feet could carry him.

When he reached the front of the building, which was three stories high, and quite broad and deep, he found an excited mob of stable-hands, cab-drivers and tradespeople assembled, each trying to get inside to save his belongings.

The owner of the stable was also present, having just arrived, and was directing, or trying to direct, the movements of the highly excited ones.

“Go into the alley on the left!” he shouted. “You can get more out of the side doors. The smoke is blowing too thickly out here!”

A rush was made for the alley and Matt got into the midst of the crowd. The side doors, to which the owner of the stable had referred, were found to be securely bolted from the inside.

“Get some axes!”

“Get a log and smash in the doors!”

“Never mind that!” yelled Matt. “I’ll climb through one of the windows and open the door!”

“Good for the boy!”

“Give me a boost up, somebody!”

Half a dozen willing hands raised Matt’s form to one of the small side windows, and an instant later the boy’s form disappeared within the smoke-laden building.

“He can’t stand it in there!”

“He’ll be smothered to death!”

Once inside, Matt found it advisable to crouch low down to the floor, for the smoke did, indeed, almost smother him. He could see but little, and had to feel his way out of a stall, and across the floor to where the doors he wished to open were located.

“I’m afraid our nag will be a goner!” he thought dismally. “A horse never can stand anything in the shape of a fire.”

At last the doors were reached. Fortunately, he found the bolts at once, and lost not a second in drawing them from their sockets. Then he gave the doors a kick outward, and willing hands flung them far back against the side of the building. Then came a rush of men and boys, all eager to save something. For the moment it looked as if Matt would be carried from his feet.

“Here, don’t knock me down!” he cried. “Remember, I opened the doors for you.”

“So he did!” returned a burly cab driver. “Give the lad a show!”

And then Matt was given room. He quickly found his way through the smoke and heat to where the wagon stood, ready for the start on the road. The horse was but a few feet away snorting in alarm.

Matt had handled horses before, and he now knew just the best possible thing to do. Taking off his coat, he flung it over Billy’s head, thus completely blindfolding him. Then he led the animal out of the stall, and started him toward the open doors.

“Hi, Matt, is that you?” yelled a voice close at hand.

“Yes, Andy, and I’m glad you have come. See if you can pull the wagon out.”

“Can you manage Billy alone?”

“I think I can.”

But Matt had his hands full, as he soon learned. Billy was not in the humor to listen and walk the way he desired. He pranced about wildly, and the boy had all he could do to keep from having his feet stepped upon.

But at last Matt managed to reach the open doors, and then he gave the horse a sharp cut on the flank, which sent him up the alley on a canter. The boy did not wait to ascertain how far Billy might continue on his way, but turned swiftly to help his partner, who was straining every nerve to budge the wagon from its resting-place.

“The floor is up-hill to the side doors!” gasped Andrew Dilks. “We can’t get it out, I’m afraid!”

“We must get it out!” returned Matt desperately. “Let me get hold of the shafts and you push. And be quick, for the floor overhead looks as if it was going to give away at any minute!”

Andy did as Matt directed, and together they strained to their utmost. At first the wagon, heavily loaded, refused to budge, but then it moved slowly from its place against the wall.

“Hurrah! we are getting it!” cried Andrew Dilks. “Be sure and guide it right, Matt. Can you see, or is the smoke too thick for you?”

“I can see; but – hold on, or we’ll smash into that other wagon.”

Matt held back, and allowed another wagon to pass out first. In the meantime, the burning brands from overhead were coming down livelier than ever. One caught Matt on the left arm, burning the flesh slightly, and another landed on Andrew Dilks’ neck, causing the auctioneer to howl with sudden pain.

Outside could be heard the whistle of fire-engines and the clanging of hook-and-ladder truck bells. Then came a heavy stream of water from somewhere behind them, nearly lifting Andy from his feet.

But the way was now once more clear, and Matt yelled to his partner to push. Both exerted every nerve, and ten seconds later the wagon rolled out of the open doors, and was guided by Matt up the alley.

“Thank goodness we are out!” panted the boy, as they brought the wagon to a standstill in the midst of half a dozen carriages. “Another minute in there would just about have settled me.”

“Yes, it was getting dangerous,” returned Andy, with a serious shake of his head, as he tied his handkerchief over his burned neck. “Hark! what is that?”

His words were called forth by a dull boom, which made the soft dirt in the alley quake.

“The upper flooring has come down!” shouted several in the crowd.

“They won’t be able to get any more stuff out now!”

“We were just in time,” remarked Matt, with a shiver. “Supposing we had been in there when that flooring, with all the burning hay and those sleighs that were stored there, came down!”

“We ought to be very thankful, not only for that, but for being able to save our wagon and our horse. If they had been burned up we would have been next door to beggars!”

“By the way, where is Billy?” cried Matt. “I don’t see him anywhere around.”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Stay here with the wagon and I’ll hunt him up,” replied Matt; and he started off without further delay.

The alleyway had now become so choked up with vehicles, horses, and people that it was with great difficulty that he fought his way through the dense mass out to the next street. Once here, he looked up and down for the horse, but could see nothing of him.

“Did you see anything of a brown and white horse around here?” he asked of a stable-hand standing near.

“Yes; just saw him gallop up the street,” was the reply. “You had better jump on a horse-car if you want to catch him.”

“You saw him run clean out of sight, then?”

“Yes; he must be halfway up to Harlem by this time.”

Matt waited to hear no more, but boarded the first horse-car which came along bound north. He took a position on the front platform, and as they moved along kept his eyes open for a sight of the animal in which he owned a half-interest.

Ten blocks had been passed, and the boy was beginning to grow anxious, when, chancing to look over the fence of a small yard adjoining a blacksmith shop, he saw a horse standing tied to a post. A second look convinced him that it was Billy, and he at once leaped from the moving car and hurried toward the place.

“Well, sir, what can I do for you?” asked the blacksmith, a tall, heavy-set fellow, as he left his bellows, where he had been blowing up the fire.

“I’ll take my horse, please,” returned Matt.

“Your horse? Which horse is that?”

“The runaway you just caught.”

“I haven’t any runaway,” returned the blacksmith boldly.

“What?” cried the boy in amazement. “Why, of course you have. He is tied to the post in the yard.”

“No runaway here.”

“I mean the brown and white horse.”

“That horse was just left here to be shod.”

For the moment Matt was too dumfounded to speak.

“To be shod?” he said at last. “Who left him here?”

“A colored man. I don’t know his name.”

“But he is my horse, and he doesn’t need shoeing.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” returned the blacksmith darkly. “He was left here and that’s all I know about it. You’ll have to hunt up the colored man, and fix it up with him if you want the horse.”

CHAPTER X.
ON THE ROAD AT LAST

Had the blacksmith spoken with more real concern, Matt would have believed what he said, but there was that in the fellow’s manner which tended to make the boy suspicious.

“How long ago was it that the colored man left the horse?” he asked, after a pause.

“Not more than an hour ago.”

“An hour?”

“About that, as near as I can remember. I’ve been rather busy this morning.”

“That horse did not get away until about fifteen minutes ago,” returned Matt coldly.

“Oh, you must be mistaken,” returned the blacksmith smoothly.

“No, I am not mistaken,” replied Matt, and his tones began to grow sharper. “He just got away from me, after I rescued him from a burning stable. He is my horse, and I intend to take him away.”

As Matt spoke he crossed the blacksmith shop to where a doorway led to the little yard beyond.

“Hold up there!” cried the blacksmith roughly. “You are not going out there!”

“Yes, I am, and you can’t stop me,” returned Matt spiritedly. “I own that horse, or at least I own a half-interest in him, and if you dare to molest me you’ll get into trouble.”

“Will I?” sneered the blacksmith.

“Yes, you will. If you stop me, I’ll call in the police.”

At these words the blacksmith’s face fell. Evidently he had not anticipated that a mere boy would take such a decided stand.

“Yes, but that colored man – ” he began, more mildly.

“If there was a colored man in the case, you can explain matters to suit yourself. As for me, I believe you caught the horse yourself and wanted to do what you could to keep him.”

“How dare you!” cried the blacksmith, with a threatening gesture. “Do you take me for a thief?”

“Never mind what I take you for. That is my horse, and I am going to take him away.”

And undaunted by the blacksmith’s manner, Matt marched out into the yard, and untied Billy, who was covered with sweat, and still trembling from fright.

“It’s playing a bold game you are,” grumbled the man of the anvil, as the boy led the horse through the blacksmith-shop toward the front door. “I reckon you think you are mighty smart.”

“One has to be smart to deal with such a man as you!” retorted Matt. “Had you done the fair thing at the start, I might have rewarded you for stopping the horse, but as it is, I don’t believe you deserve a cent.”

And with this parting shot, which, by the way was fully deserved by the dishonest blacksmith, Matt sprang upon Billy’s back and rode off.

When the boy reached the alleyway again he found that the fire department had gotten the fire under control, and that much of the crowd of people had gone on about their business. In the space around the wagon several cabmen were busy getting out their horses and cabs, all thankful that their turnouts and animals had not been consumed by the conflagration, which had all but leveled the great stable to the ground.

Andy was seated on the wagon, anxiously awaiting his return. While the two harnessed Billy into place, Matt told his partner of the trouble he had experienced.

“That blacksmith meant to bluff you off and keep the horse,” said the auctioneer. “If you hadn’t come back soon I would have gone off after you.”

“Is the wagon damaged?” questioned Matt anxiously.

“Not in the slightest. I have examined everything carefully. And the stock is O. K. too. We can start off just as if nothing had happened.”

“But we haven’t decided yet as to just where we are to go,” returned the boy.

“Oh, that reminds me!” cried Andy. “I meant to tell you before, but the fire drove it clean out of my head. I saw a fellow yesterday who is going to strike out up through Harlem to-morrow. He was going to take the very route I had thought out. So I was going to propose that we take the ferry over to Jersey City, and strike out through New Jersey first.”

“Well, one way will suit me just as well as another,” returned Matt. “So New Jersey it is.”

In less than five minutes later they were ready to start. The owner of the stable, nearly distracted over his loss, was around, and into his hand they thrust the money they owed him. Then Matt procured his valise, and without waiting to be questioned by the police and the firemen any more than was necessary, they drove off.

“Not a very favorable start,” was Andy’s comment, as the scene of the conflagration was left behind. “But they say ‘a bad beginning makes a good ending,’ so we ought not to lose heart.”

“Lose heart!” cried Matt lightly. “No, indeed! I am thankful we are able to start, even though we do look like a couple of tramps,” he added with a grin.

“We’ll take a wash-up when we are across the ferry. We’ll have lots of time, for we won’t be able to do any business to-day. We must get at least twenty or thirty miles from New York before we attempt to open up.”

The drive down to Cortlandt street ferry was an uneventful one through the crowded streets. A boat had just come in when they reached the ferry-house, and after paying the fare, they drove upon this, and were soon on their way to the New Jersey shore.

“Do you know the road?” asked Matt, as they tied up upon an open street on the other side, and went into the great ferry-house to wash and brush up.

“I know the roads through Newark and Elizabeth,” returned Andrew Dilks. “I think we had better strike along the New Jersey Central Railroad as far as Bound Brook or Somerville, and then strike through Flemington, and across to the Delaware River, and so on into Pennsylvania.”

“That suits me,” returned Matt.

It was exactly half-past ten o’clock when they left the vicinity of the ferry in Jersey City, and moved off toward the old plank road, so called, which leads to Newark, five miles distant. Both were in excellent spirits, despite the thrilling experience through which they had passed.

“I have here a list of all the articles we have in stock,” said Andy, as he set Billy on a brisk trot. “You had better study it. The prices are also put down, and of course, we never will auction a thing off for less, unless it is unsalable otherwise and we wish to dispose of it.”

“But supposing a thing is put up and people won’t bid above a certain figure?”

“We will buy it in ourselves, or get some one to bid for us, or else refuse to take a bid under a certain sum.”

Matt took the sheet of paper, and resting on the box in the back of the wagon, began to study it carefully, and so absorbed did he become that he did not notice when Newark was reached, and was only aroused when Andy drew up in front of a restaurant and asked him if he did not feel like having some dinner.

“You can just bet I do!” exclaimed Matt. “The fire and the drive have made me as hungry as a bear.”

The restaurant was not a very large place, and but few customers were present. They ordered what they wished, and it was soon brought to them.

“I didn’t want to go to one of those high-toned places where they charge big prices,” observed Andy, as he began to fall to. “We can’t afford to cut a spread until we see how our venture is going to pan out.”

“You are right there,” returned Matt. “As it is, I think our supply of cash is getting mighty low.”

“I notice the knives and forks are rather rusty here,” went on Andy. “I wonder if I can’t sell the proprietor some table cutlery. We have some on board that is both cheap and good.”

“I’d try it by all means,” cried Matt heartily.

So when the meal was concluded Andrew Dilks walked up to the proprietor, who was also cashier, and paid their bill. Then he asked the man if he did not think some new knives and forks would be appreciated by his customers.

“I have no doubt but what they would be,” returned the restaurant keeper. “But they cost too much money, and times are rather hard.”

“I can sell you some cheap,” returned Andy, and he mentioned his price.

The restaurant man smiled.

“Too cheap to be good,” he said. “I must have some that will stand the wear.”

“Let me show you them. Matt, go out and bring in a few dozen of the No. 23 knives and forks, and also some of the X23 spoons,” went on Andy briskly.

Matt at once complied, and his partner continued to talk to the restaurant keeper, thus keeping his attention. When the articles were brought Andy invited the prospective purchaser to make a thorough examination of them.

“Send a couple down to the kitchen and have them scoured. They are triple-plated, and will stand it,” he added.

Andy’s business-like way pleased the restaurant keeper, and after a little more talk he purchased three dozen each of knives and forks and two dozen spoons.

The price was paid over, and both Andy and Matt were congratulating themselves on their good luck, when a man who had been standing near the window of the restaurant peering in stepped inside and tapped both on the shoulder.

“I would like to see your license for selling,” he said sternly.