CHAPTER V
THE CHANCE ENCOUNTER
"Here! What do you mean? How dare you!" cried the portly passenger. "Let go of me at once!" he ordered.
"No, sah, boss! I dassn't do it!" was the reply of the grinning porter who had him by the shoulders. "Keep movin', 'cause I'se suah gwine t' keep shovin'."
"But I say! Look out! I won't have it! I won't have it, I tell you!" objected the stout, red-faced man. The motion picture boys, attracted by the commotion, had looked from their windows, for their sleeping-car was close, and the sashes had been lifted before the train started.
"Can't let yo' all miss yo' berth, boss!" explained the porter who was shoving the man along. "Come along wif dem bags, George. I'll git him abo'd somehow, ef I has t' carry him. Cain't affo'd t' lose no tips dese yeah hard times! Now, den, sah!"
With a mighty heave the porter, with the help of a brakeman, lifted the portly man up on the steps of a sleeping-car. The car-porter, willing to oblige his fellow-employees, had kept the vestibule door open, and the platform that covered the steps was up, or otherwise the feat could not have been performed.
But, as it was, the belated passenger was fairly forced aboard the train, and not a moment too soon.
"Why—why——" he panted. "If you fellows——"
"Chuck up dem valises, George!" ordered the panting black man who had so hurried his charge. "Dere yo' are, sah. You didn't miss yo' train, an' Henry will see dat yo' gits a good berth; won't yo', Henry?"
"Dat's what I will, sah!" laughed the car-porter.
Frank and his chums, by leaning out of their windows, had witnessed the conclusion of the little comedy. And yet it was not wholly over. For the two platform porters stood expectant.
The portly man, breathing hard, stood in a dazed manner on the platform, hardly knowing whether or not he had "arrived." But he was safely on board the moving train, and his baggage was at his feet. The two platform porters held out their hands significantly.
"No, you don't get anything from me!" stormed the stout man. "I won't be handled like a dog, and then give up good tips for it. No, sir!"
"'Scuse me, sah, but yo' all had better go inside," broke in the car porter, and, as he stooped over to pick up the satchels he, accidentally, or otherwise, hit against the closed hand of the man. From the fist there flew out a bright half dollar, that fell, with a ringing sound, on the concrete platform alongside the train.
"Thank you, sah!" chorused the two grinning colored men, as one of them picked up the rolling coin.
"Well!" exclaimed the man. "Of all the——"
But the rest of what he said was not heard by Frank and his chums, for the car-porter hurried his charge inside and closed the vestibule door.
"Well, if that wasn't the same man——" began Frank, as he drew his head in from the window.
"What's that?" interrupted Pep.
"I thought I knew that man," said Frank, more slowly. "But I guess I was mistaken. He surely was fussed up, though."
"But the porters got what they wanted—their tips," remarked Randy. "Well, now we're settled down for a long ride."
"With success at the end of it, I hope," remarked Frank. "My, but we have done some hustling this day!"
Indeed they all had, including Ben Jolly and Hank Strapp. But as Strapp himself said, he was used to it, for he liked nothing better than to have to do something in a hurry. It reminded him, he said, of when he was actively engaged on the ranch, or in some of his mining ventures.
"And in those days you had to be up pretty early to get ahead of Hank Strapp!" exclaimed the breezy Westerner.
"I guess anyone would have to, even yet," said Pep, with a laugh.
As he went to bed a little later, the porter having made up the various berths, Frank could not help recalling the scene of the portly man who had been so hurriedly helped aboard by the colored men.
"If it's the same one. I'm just as glad he isn't in our car," he murmured, as he dozed off.
"Well, this is some different from the time we had in Boston," observed Randy the next morning, as his chums, with Strapp and Ben, were sitting together, planning to go to the dining-car for breakfast.
"I should say so!" agreed Frank, looking out of the window at the swiftly-moving scenery. They had been carried along all night, and were now well on their way West. "Well, I hope we don't get mixed up with any fires, or lost camels, or anything like that," he went on. "There are some busy times ahead of us, to my way of thinking, if we can get the concession we want, and start our motion picture place."
"Yes—if we can get a concession," agreed Mr. Strapp. "But I'm thinking you'll have trouble there."
"Might as well be cheerful while you're about it," suggested Ben, drumming with his fingers on the window sill, as though strumming a piano at a performance, or producing some of his wonderful pipe organ effects.
"I don't want you boys to be too disappointed," was Strapp's answer. "I'd rather look on the dark side, and be agreeably surprised by a silver lining to the cloud, than think we'd found a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow and, later on, have it turn into lead."
"I think things will be all right," spoke Randy. He was of a hopeful disposition.
"Well, I hope we have ham and eggs for breakfast," broke in Pep. "And I'm going to find out right away. Who's with me?"
"I am!" cried Ben Jolly, and the party of five started for the dining-car ahead, where, as a white-aproned porter had announced, a short time before, breakfast was being served.
As Frank was leading the way to two tables, where he and his friends could be accommodated, there came out of the farther end of the car a burly, red-faced man.
At the sight of him Frank stopped, and stared rather boldly, at the same time murmuring in a low voice:
"It is he! It's the same one. I wasn't mistaken!"
At that moment the train rounded a curve, and Frank, making a grab for the edge of a table to steady himself, missed his hold. He was thrown rather violently against the stout man, who gasped as the breath was jarred from him.
"I beg your pardon," said Frank, recovering his balance.
For a moment the man did not speak—he could not, in fact. Then, as his breath came back to him he gasped:
"You—you'd better! The idea—careening into me that way. What do you mean? You ought to look where you're going!"
"He couldn't help it, sah," interposed a waiter. "Pow'ful bad curve right yeah, sah. Passengers done has t' look out fo' derese'ves. Pow'ful bad curve!"
"That's no excuse for walking all over a man," growled the portly individual, scowling at Frank. At the same time Pep nudged Randy, and whispered:
"That's the same one who had the fuss with the porters last night."
"So I see," responded Randy. "He seems to have a perpetual grouch on."
"That's what," agreed Pep.
By this time the portly man had straightened up. He was about to pass on when he looked at Frank more closely.
"Hello!" he half growled. "I've seen you before!"
"Possibly," admitted Frank.
"Indeed I have," went on the man. "You ran into me once before, a few days back. I haven't forgotten it, either. It was in a bank. You seem to have a bad habit, young man," he sneered.
"That was an accident, just as this was," responded Frank, and his voice was decidedly formal. "In fact, on the other occasion it was you who ran into me. This time it was not my fault. The train threw me."
"Bah! You're careless!" declared the man. "Keep out of my way!" and he lurched on to his seat at a table.
"Yes, that's the same man," said Frank to himself, though not so low but that Pep heard him.
"What man do you mean?" he asked.
"The same one I ran into at the bank on Saturday," Frank explained. "His name is Royston, so the teller told me."
Frank's voice was louder now, and as he mentioned that name a gentleman seated at an adjoining table turned quickly and looked at our hero. There was something in his look that made Frank glance at him a second time. The man seemed to convey a warning.