Gold Seekers of 49 | Page 7

Edwin L. Sabin
was alive, anyway, for now he did stir drowsily, and
mumbled as if objecting. Charley noticed that his hands were clenched
tightly over the side-pockets of his old jacket, where the corners were
drawn into his lap.
"Wake up! You'd better get out of here. You'll freeze. Want me to help
you?"
Charley tried to lift the man, and to force him to move; but the man sat
as a dead weight, and only mumbled crossly, and held back.
"Oh, crickity!" despaired Charley. "I'll have to get somebody to help.
He's half frozen already. That's what's the matter with him."
Charley bolted out, to peer up and down the dusky white street. He had
a notion to run to a little store about a block away, when he saw a man
walking hastily along on the opposite side of the street. Out into the
middle of the street floundered Charley, and hailed him.
"Hello! Can you please come over here a minute?"
"Sure, sonny." And he turned off, curiously approaching. "What is it
you want, now?"
"There's a man freezing to death in the doorway, yonder," said Charley,
excited. "He ought to be taken out."
"Who is he?"
"I don't know."
"What doorway, sonny?"
"That one. I'll show you." And Charley led off, the other man following
him. He was a dark complexioned, sharp-faced man, with a little black
moustache and a long drooping nose. He had bright black, narrow eyes,
piercing but rather shifty. He wore a round fur cap and an overcoat with

a cape.
The figure in the stairway entrance sat exactly as Charley had left him,
except that he appeared to have gathered his coat pockets tighter.
"See?" directed Charley.
"Humph!" The long-nosed man peered in keenly. "Drunk, isn't he?"
And he ordered roughly: "Come! get out o' here! Stir your stumps. This
is no place to sleep."
The figure mumbled and swayed.
"I don't think he's drunk," ventured Charley. "He doesn't act like it,
does he?"
"I dunno," grunted the long-nosed man, as if irritated. He reached in
and, as Charley had done, but more rudely, grasped the figure by the
shoulder; shook him and attempted to drag him forward; raised him a
few inches and let him drop back again.
"We can't do anything. He looks like a beggar, anyhow. I'll see if I can
find a watchman, on my way down town, and send him up."
That sounded inhuman, and Charley, for one, could not think of letting
the figure huddle there, in the cold and the night, until the watchman
should arrive. He did not like the long-nosed man.
"If you'll help, I'll take him home," volunteered Charley. "'Tisn't far."
"How far?" demanded the long-nosed man.
"Just a block and a half."
"What'll you do with him there?"
"Get him warm. My mother and father'll tend to him. They won't
mind."

"Humph!" grunted the long-nosed man. "Well, let's see. But I don't
intend to break my back for some no-'count trash such as this is.
Come," he ordered, to the figure. "Get out o' here."
He grasped the figure by the arms and pulled him forward. Charley
tried to get behind and boost. The tramp (if that was his kind) mumbled
and actually resisted--hanging back and fighting feebly. His arms were
wrenched from their position across his chest, and his coat corners fell
back, with a thud, against the sides of the stairway.
"This fellow must be carrying a brick in each pocket," grumbled the
long-nosed man. And halting his operations, despite the other man's
resistance he roughly felt of the coat corners. But when he would have
thrust in his hand, to investigate further, the other clutched the pockets
so tightly and moaned "No! No!" so imploringly, that much to
Charley's relief the long-nosed man quit.
Supporting their charge between them, and wading through the snow,
they proceeded up the street. The "tramp" half shambled, half slid;
darkness had gathered, stars were peeping out in the blue-black sky, the
way seemed hard and lonesome, and Charley was glad indeed that they
were bound to a place of warmth and shelter: home.
"It's right in the middle of this next block," panted Charley to the
long-nosed man. "Where that horse-step is, under the big old oak."
The gate was ajar, and they turned through, dragging their awkwardly
shambling burden. As they gained the front porch the front door was
flung wide, and Mrs. Adams stood there, peering out, to find what was
the meaning of this scuffling and grunting. Charley was glad to see her,
framed in the lamp-light.
"Why, Charley!" she exclaimed. "What's the matter?"
"Please, mother, let us in," answered Charley. "We've got a man who
was freezing in a stairway. Where'll we put him?"
"Gracious goodness! Take him right through and
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