The Iron Boys on the Ore Boats Part 19

"Yes."

"What is the name of the town?"

"Alpena."

"Oh! And what do you call that little island over yonder?"

"That one with the stones sticking up all over it like a porcupine's back?"

"That describes it. Some of them are sticking into me yet."

"That's Little Gull Island."

"How far is it to Alpena?" questioned Rush.

"'Bout ten miles."

Steve uttered a long, low whistle.

"What's the easiest way to get there?"

"Hoof it. Ain't no other way."

"That's too bad. Is there a house anywhere near here where I could buy something to eat?"

"Nary a house. But you kin git all you want over to Alpena."

"Thank you very much. I think I will be going."

"Say, where'd you come from?"

"From the lake--out of the lake. I was drowned out there last night, or pretty nearly drowned. A steamer went down and I was carried under----"

"A steamer?"

"Yes."

"Which one?"

"The 'Macomber,' I think it was. Coal laden and----"

"I must tell Pa," and the fisher boy was off on the run.

Steve gazed after the lad reflectively.

"I'd give a ten-dollar bill to anybody who would tell me how to run like that now. Poor Bob, I'll bet he's eating his big heart out for sorrow over my disappearance." Steve paused. "They think I'm drowned, of course, they do, and I ought to be. It must have been intended that I should be, but somehow I didn't arrive on schedule time."

Chuckling to himself, the lad started on toward the city, ten miles away. He tried to make himself forget his weariness by whistling and singing. Coming to some willow bushes, he cut the stiffest small branch he could find, from which he trimmed the nubs, then started on, whipping his legs with it.

This seemed to start the circulation, and at the same time to take his mind from his own weariness. After a time the wet, swollen shoes began to chafe his heels, and it was not very long before the skin had been worn from both heels. Then a blister suddenly bobbed up on the ball of the right foot.

The boy took off his shoes and tried to doctor the sore spots, but there was nothing he could do save tear up his handkerchief and bind up the affected parts.

"A boil on my nose, now, would just about complete my misfortune," Rush grinned. "I'm going to carry my shoes in my hands."

This did not work very well, for Steve's feet were sore and the rocks over which he was walking made his feet more tender than ever, so he put the shoes on again. They had shrunk, of course, and the putting on was attended with a great deal of pain. Steve Rush did not even grunt. He drew them on almost roughly, stamped in them and jumped up and down.

"There, I guess that'll fix that blister, anyway. I wish I could jump on the sore spots on my heels and cure them as easily."

He started, and kept on without another stop until three o'clock in the afternoon, when Rush halted for a drink of water at a little creek that crossed his trail.

It was a sore and very much dilapidated young man who crawled into the town just before supper time that evening. Realizing that his appearance was far from prepossessing, Rush sought the back streets, following them in so far as possible, keeping an eye out for a hotel that he thought might be respectable.

He found such a place after some searching about, during which the policemen he pa.s.sed had eyed him suspiciously.

Steve entered the place, which proved to be a farmers' hotel, and asked if he could get supper and lodging there. The man behind the desk eyed the lad narrowly.

"You've made a mistake young fellow," said the clerk.

"How so?" inquired Steve innocently.

"You should go out and see the hostler. Maybe he'll put you up. We don't keep your kind in here."

Several bystanders laughed at the boy's expense. But Rush never flinched.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; I thought I was in the stable. This must be where you herd the other lower animals. I see they are all here."

Before any one could recover his wits sufficiently to make a retort, Steve had stepped out of the place.

Next the boy tried a restaurant. He got no further than the desk when he was held up by the proprietor.

"Hold on; where are you going?"

"I wish something to eat," answered the boy politely.

"You're in the wrong place, and----"

"No, I am not. That's what the fellow told me the last place I called at. They can't both be the wrong place, so this must be the right one."

The proprietor of the place stepped out from behind his desk, laying a firm hand on Steve Rush's shoulder. A peculiar glint shot into the eyes of the Iron Boy, but he stood still.

"We can't serve you here. This is a gentlemen's restaurant. Perhaps you will find something that will suit you down on the south side."

"I have money, sir. I am willing to pay for what I get. I have been in a s.h.i.+pwreck and am not very presentable----"

"I can't help it; you'll have to get out."

"See here, sir, I shall not get out until I have had my supper. I have had nothing to eat in twenty-four hours, and I'm hungry."