Chapter XI: Roy Stops a Runaway

With a companion who proved himself as interesting as did Mortimer De Royster, the time passed very quickly for Roy. Almost before he knew it the train was pulling into Chicago, where they changed cars.

He wanted to stop off and view the stock yards, but there was not time for this. However he saw much of interest from the car windows, and De Royster pointed out various objects, explaining them as the express passed by.

"We'll soon be in New York now," said the well-dressed youth, as the train passed beyond the confines of the "Windy City."

"Is New York larger than Chicago?" asked Roy.

"Larger? Well, I guess, and it beats it every way."

"What's that you said, young man?" inquired an individual, seated back of Roy and his new friend.

"I said New York was larger and better in every way than Chicago, don't you know," replied De Royster, looking at the man through his single eyeglass.

"You must hail from New York then?"

"I do."

"I thought so. You don't know Chicago, or you wouldn't say that. Chicago has New York beaten any way you look at it."

"Then I reckon you're from Chicago, stranger," put in Roy, who had the easy and familiar manners which life in the west breeds.

"I am, and I don't believe I'm far wrong when I say you're from off a ranch."

"I am," admitted Roy, wondering how the stranger had guessed so soon.

"Well, there's no use getting into a dispute over our respective cities," went on the stranger. "Everyone thinks his home town is the best. Are you two traveling far?"

Thus the conversation opened, and the three were soon chatting pleasantly together.

In due time the train arrived at Jersey City, just across the Hudson River from New York.

"Here we are!" exclaimed Mr. De Royster. "A short trip across the ferry now, and we'll be in the biggest city in the Western hemisphere."

Roy followed his friend from the train, mingling with the crowd on the platform under the big shed.

"Wait a minute!" exclaimed Roy.

"What for?"

"I've got to see about my baggage. It's checked. I wonder if I can hire a pack mule, or get a stage driver to bring it up?"

"Pack mule?"

"Sure. That's how I got it from the ranch to the depot."

Mortimer De Royster laughed.

"I guess there isn't a pack mule within two thousand miles of here," he said. "Nor a stage either, unless it's the automobile ones on Fifth avenue. But I'll show you what to do. Wait a minute though. You don't know where you're going to stop, do you?"

"Not exactly."

"Then if you'll allow me, I'll pick out a good hotel for you."

"I'll leave it to you, pardner," said Roy, with a helpless feeling that, however much he might know about ranch life, he was all at sea in a big city.

"All right. Then I'll give your checks to an expressman, and he'll bring the trunks to the hotel. Right over this way."

Mortimer De Royster led Roy through the crowd, to the express office. The matter of the baggage was soon attended to, and the agent promised to have the trunk and large valise at the hotel before night. It was now four o'clock.

"Come on!" cried De Royster again, pushing his way through the crowd, with Roy who carried a small valise, containing a few clothes, following close after him.

"Wait a minute!" again called the boy from the ranch.

"What's the matter now?"

"I want to sort of get my bearings. This is a new trail to me, and I'd like to get the lay of the land. Say, what's all the stampede about? These folks are milling, ain't they?"

"Stampede? This isn't a stampede. They're in a rush to get the ferry boat. What do you mean by milling?"

"Why they're like cattle going around and around, and they don't seem to be getting anywhere."

"Oh, that's it, eh, my dear chap. Well, they're all anxious to get to New York, that's why they're rushing so. Come on or we'll miss the boat."

Mortimer De Royster led the way through the ferry house, and out on the boat. He took a seat in the ladies' cabin, and Roy sat down beside him. The dude had bought a paper, which he was glancing over, momentarily paying no attention to Roy.

Suddenly the boy from the ranch, who was looking about him with curious eyes, jumped up and exclaimed:

"Something's the matter. The depot has been cut loose!"

"Cut loose? What do you mean?"

"Why, we're afloat! There's water outside."

"Of course, my dear fellow. We're on the ferry boat, crossing to New York. What did yew think?"

"Are we on a boat?"

"Certainly. Where did you think you were?"

"I thought we were in the depot room, waiting for the boat to come in."

"Why, no. This is the boat. But of course the approach to it is through the depot, and it is hard to tell exactly where the dock leaves off and the boat begins. I should have told you, but I got interested in the paper."

"I was a little startled at first," admitted Roy with a smile. "I thought something had happened."

Several passengers who had heard this exclamation, were also smiling, but Roy did not mind this. Everything was so strange and novel that he wanted to see it all at once. It was no wonder that he mistook the boat for the waiting room of the station, as the ferry boat was so broad, and the cabin so large, that often strangers are deceived that way.

De Royster soon took Roy out on the lower deck, and showed him New York, lying across the Hudson river, the sky-scrapers towering above the water line, the various boats plying to and fro, and the great harbor.

"It's wonderful! Wonderful!" exclaimed the boy from the ranch. "It's different from what I expected. I never even dreamed New York was like this."

"Wait; you haven't begun to see it."

And, a little later, when they landed, and were crossing West street, with its congested traffic, Roy began to think his companion was right.

For a moment the noise and excitement confused the boy. There were two long lines of vehicles, mostly great trucks and drays, going up and down, for West street is on the water front, adjoining the docks where the steamships come in, and the wagons cart goods to and from them.

Then there was a big throng of people, hurrying to and from the ferries, several of which came in close together. The people all seemed in a rush, a trait, which Roy was soon to discover, affected nearly every one in New York. He saw policemen standing on the crossings, and, whenever the officer held up his hand, the travel of the vehicles stopped as if by magic, leaving a lane for pedestrians to cross.

"He's got them pretty well trained," observed Roy.

"Yes, he belongs to the traffic squad. Any driver who refused to do as the officer says, will be arrested. But come on. I want to take you to your hotel."

Trying to see everything at once, Roy followed his new friend. Suddenly, as he was in the midst of a press of wagons, men and women, in the middle of the street, he heard a cry:

"Runaway! Runaway! Horse is coming! Look out!"

Instantly the policeman began shoving people to one side, to get them out of the path of the runaway. Truck drivers began pulling their steeds to either curb. Roy looked down the street and saw a horse, attached to a cab, coming on at a gallop. Thanks to the prompt action of other drivers the runaway had a clear field.

"Look out!" shouted the officer. "Hey there, young man!" to Roy. "Git out of the street!"

But Roy had other intentions. He handed his valise to De Royster, who was vainly pulling him by the arm.

"Come on out of here!" cried De Royster. "You'll get run over."

"Take my satchel," said Roy.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to stop that horse!"

"You'll be killed!"

"Say, I guess I know how to handle horses. It won't be the first one I've caught!"

Mortimer De Royster, giving one more look at the maddened animal, which was now close at hand, made a leap for the sidewalk. Roy looked up, gauged the distance, and, to his horror saw that the cab contained a lady and a little girl. There was no driver on the seat.

"Look out! You'll be killed!" shouted several in the crowd.

"The boy's crazy!" muttered the policeman He took a step forward, as if to drag Roy out of the way.

The next instant the boy had made a leap, just as the horse reached him. It was a leap to one side, but not to get out of the way. It was only to escape the flying hoofs, for, an instant later, Roy had the plunging horse by the bridle, and was hanging on for dear life.