“I will try to be, sir.”
On Monday morning Carl left Milford, reached New York in two hours and a half and, in accordance with the directions of Mr. Jennings, engaged passage and a stateroom on one of the palatial night lines of Hudson River steamers to Albany. The boat was well filled with passengers, and a few persons were unable to procure staterooms.
Carl, however, applied in time, and obtained an excellent room. He deposited his gripsack therein, and then took a seat on deck, meaning to enjoy as long as possible the delightful scenery for which the Hudson is celebrated. It was his first long journey, and for this reason Carl enjoyed it all the more. He could not but contrast his present position and prospects with those of a year ago, when, helpless and penniless, he left an unhappy home to make his own way.
“What a delightful evening!” said a voice at his side.
Turning, Carl saw sitting by him a young man of about thirty, dressed in somewhat pretentious style and wearing eyeglasses. He was tall and thin, and had sandy side whiskers.
“Yes, it is a beautiful evening,” replied Carl, politely.
“And the scenery is quite charming. Have you ever been all the way up the river?”
“No, but I hope some day to take a day trip.”
“Just so. I am not sure but I prefer the Rhine, with its romantic castles and vineclad hills.”
“Have you visited Europe, then?” asked Carl.
“Oh, yes, several times. I have a passion for traveling. Our family is wealthy, and I have been able to go where I pleased.”
“That must be very pleasant.”
“It is. My name is Stuyvesant–one of the old Dutch families.”
Carl was not so much impressed, perhaps, as he should have been by this announcement, for he knew very little of fashionable life in New York.
“You don’t look like a Dutchman,” he said, smiling.
“I suppose you expected a figure like a beer keg,” rejoined Stuyvesant, laughing. “Some of my forefathers may have answered that description, but I am not built that way. Are you traveling far?”
“I may go as far as Chicago.”
“Is anyone with you?”
“No.”
“Perhaps you have friends in Chicago?”
“Not that I am aware of. I am traveling on business.”
“Indeed; you are rather young for a business man.”
“I am sixteen.”
“Well, that cannot exactly be called venerable.”
“No, I suppose not.”
“By the way, did you succeed in getting a stateroom?”
“Yes, I have a very good one.”
“You’re in luck, on my word. I was just too late. The man ahead of me took the last room.”
“You can get a berth, I suppose.”
“But that is so common. Really, I should not know how to travel without a stateroom. Have you anyone with you?”
“No.”
“If you will take me in I will pay the entire expense.”
Carl hesitated. He preferred to be alone, but he was of an obliging disposition, and he knew that there were two berths in the stateroom.
“If it will be an accommodation,” he said, “I will let you occupy the room with me, Mr. Stuyvesant.”
“Will you, indeed! I shall esteem it a very great favor. Where is your room?”
“I will show you.”
Carl led the way to No. 17, followed by his new acquaintance. Mr. Stuyvesant seemed very much pleased, and insisted on paying for the room at once. Carl accepted half the regular charges, and so the bargain was made.
At ten o’clock the two travelers retired to bed. Carl was tired and went to sleep at once. He slept through the night. When he awoke in the morning the boat was in dock. He heard voices in the cabin, and the noise of the transfer of baggage and freight to the wharf.
“I have overslept myself,” he said, and jumped up, hurriedly. He looked into the upper berth, but his roommate was gone. Something else was gone, too–his valise, and a wallet which he had carried in the pocket of his trousers.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE LOST BANK BOOK.
CARL was not long in concluding that he had been robbed by his roommate. It was hard to believe that a Stuyvesant–a representative of one of the old Dutch families of New Amsterdam–should have stooped to such a discreditable act. Carl was sharp enough, however, to doubt the genuineness of Mr. Stuyvesent’s claims to aristocratic lineage. Meanwhile he blamed himself for being so easily duped by an artful adventurer.