Burnham Breaker | Page 6

conclusive evidence of his disease. But 'he had a pair of sharp gray eyes that looked out from under the brim of his hat, and gave close scrutiny to every one who passed by. The breaker boys, who had gone into the tent in a body some minutes earlier, had attracted his attention and aroused his interest. By and by his eyes rested upon Ralph, who stood back in the line, awaiting the forward movement of the crowd. The old man started perceptibly at sight of the boy, and uttered an ejaculation of surprise, which ended in a cough. He moved forward as if to meet him; then, apparently on second thought, he retreated to his post. But he kept his eyes fixed on the lad, who was coming slowly nearer, and his thin face took on an expression of the deepest satisfaction. He turned partly aside, however, as the boy approached him, and stood with averted countenance until the lad had passed through the gate.
Ralph was just in time. He had no sooner got in and found a seat, with the other breaker boys, away up under the edge of the tent, than the grand procession made its entrance. There were golden chariots, there were ladies in elegant riding habits and men in knightly costumes, there were prancing steeds and gorgeous banners, elephants, camels, monkeys, clowns, a moving mass of dazzling beauty and bright colors that almost made one dizzy to look upon it; and through it all the great band across the arena poured its stirring music in a way to make the pulses leap and the hands and feet keep time to its sounding rhythm.
Then came the athletes and the jugglers, the tight-rope walkers and the trapeze performers, the trained dogs and horses, the clowns and the monkeys, the riding and the races; all of it too wonderful, too mirthful, too complete to be adequately described. At least, this was what the breaker boys thought.
After the performance was ended, they went out to the menagerie tent, in a body, to look at the animals.
One of the boys became separated from the others, and stood watching the antics of the monkeys, and laughing gleefully at each comical trick performed by the grave-faced little creatures. Looking up, he saw an old man standing by him; an old man with sharp gray eyes and dusty clothes, who leaned heavily upon a cane.
"Curious things, these monkeys," said the old man.
"Ain't they, though!" replied the boy. "Luk at that un, now!--don't he beat all? ain't he funny?"
"Very!" responded the old man, gazing across the open space to where Ralph stood chattering with his companions.
"Sonny," said he, "can you tell me who that boy is, over yonder, with his hand done up in a white cloth?"
"That boy w'ats a-talkin' to Jimmy Dooley, you mean?"
"Yes, the one there by the lion's cage."
"You mean that boy there with the blue patch on his pants?"
"Yes, yes! the one with his hand bandaged; don't you see?"
"Oh, that's Ralph."
"Ralph who?"
"Ralph nobody. He ain't got no other name. He lives with Bachelor Billy."
"Is--is Bachelor Billy his father?"
"Naw; he ain't got no father."
"Does he work with you in the mines?"
"In the mines? naw; we don't work in the mines; we work in the screen-room up t' the breaker, a-pickin' slate. He sets nex' to me."
"How long has he been working there?"
"Oh, I donno; couple o' years, I guess. You want to see 'im? I'll go call 'im."
"No; I don't care to see him. Don't call him; he isn't the boy I'm looking for, any way."
"There! he's a-turnin' this way now. I'll have 'im here in a minute; hey, Ralph! Ralph! here he comes."
But the old man was gone. He had disappeared suddenly and mysteriously. A little later he was trudging slowly along the dusty road, through the crowds of people, up toward the city. He was smiling, and muttering to himself. "Found him at last!" he exclaimed, in a whisper, "found him at last! It'll be all right now; only be cautious, Simon! be cautious!"
CHAPTER II.
A STRANGE VISITOR.
It was the day after the circus. Robert Burnham sat in his office on Lackawanna Avenue, busy with his afternoon mail. As he laid the last letter aside the incidents of the previous day recurred to him, and he saw again, in imagination, the long line of breaker-boys, with happy, dusty faces, filing slowly by him, grateful for his gifts, eager for the joys to come. The pleasure he had found in his generous deed stayed with him, as such pleasures always do, and was manifest even now in the light of his kindly face.
He had pondered, too, upon the strange story of the boy Ralph. It had awakened his interest and aroused his sympathy. He had spoken to his wife about the