<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</SPAN><br/> <small>ON THE CANAL.</small></h2>
<p>It is at Rondout that the Delaware and
Hudson Canal, reaching across from the
anthracite-coal regions of Pennsylvania,
touches tide-water on the Hudson. It is
here that the bulky canal-boats, having
discharged their cargoes of coal, turn
their bows again to the westward. From
the low-lying lands at the river’s edge the
mouth of Rondout Creek curves back
into the hills, forming for miles a safe,
broad harbor.</p>
<p>On the northerly shore of the creek is
the wharf. On the left side of this wharf
long lines of canal-boats are tied to the
wharf posts, and fastened one to another.
On the right, canal stores, blacksmith’s
shops, and stables extend as far as the eye
can reach.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>In the early morning, before the activities
of the day have begun, this wharf is a
deserted and forbidding place, and on one
such early morning in September, with
chill air and cloudy skies, and not even a
rose tint in the dull east, there was no one
to be seen throughout the whole length of
the wharf save one slowly moving boy.</p>
<p>This boy was so dull and miserable in
appearance as to be hardly noticeable
against the general dulness around him.
His clothing was ragged and dusty, his
shoes were out at both heel and toe. The
battered hat, pulled well down over his
eyes, shaded a haggard and a hungry face.
His mother herself would scarcely have
recognized this scarecrow as Joe Gaston.</p>
<p>What his hardships and sufferings had
been since that June morning when he
angrily left his home, his appearance told
more eloquently than words can describe
them. Many and many a day he had
longed for the good and wholesome food
he knew was on his father’s table. Many
and many a night, as he lay under some
unwelcoming roof, or still oftener with<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</SPAN></span>
the open sky above him, he had dreamed
of that gentle mother who used always
to fold the soft covering over him, and
give him the good-night kiss.</p>
<p>But a few days before our meeting with
him here on the canal Joe had met, on
the public road, a roving wood-sawyer who
recognized him. They walked together a
long way.</p>
<p>The man, who had sawed wood for Joe’s
father several times, had been at the
homestead since Joe’s departure. He
seemed surprised not to find the horse
with Joe, and he finally asked the boy
what he had done with him.</p>
<p>He was still more surprised when he
learned that Joe had not had Old Charlie,
and knew nothing about the theft. But
poor Joe! It touched him to the quick to
learn, as he did, that at home he was regarded
as a horse-thief.</p>
<p>It was this that he brooded over now,
day and night. To think that they should
accuse him of stealing Old Charlie!</p>
<p>Joe had, in his wanderings, followed a
sort of circle, which had now brought him<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</SPAN></span>
within a comparatively short distance of
home; but if, before this, he had thought
of returning there, the thought was now
driven from his mind. He felt that he
could not go back to face this charge
against him, for who would believe him?
It was time to turn his face to the westward.</p>
<p>Besides, he had said that he would not
return until he was twenty-one years old.
His pride had not yet been enough chastened
by misery to cause him to abandon
his foolish boast.</p>
<p>So here he was, on the wharf at Rondout
this raw September morning, seeking
not so much independence and fortune as
bread and shelter.</p>
<p>Joe walked slowly along close to the
buildings, for the wind that swept down
the creek was disagreeably cold. An
occasional raindrop struck his face. He
was very thinly clad, too, and he could
not help shivering now and then as he
pushed his hands deeper into his pockets
and turned his back for a moment to
the wind.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>He stopped to look at a few loaves of
bread and a string of sausages that were
displayed in the window of a cheap store.
He wondered whether it would be wiser
to spend his last few pennies for his breakfast,
or save them for his dinner.</p>
<p>He had about decided to buy a piece
of bread, and was waiting for the store to
be opened for the day, when some one
accosted him from behind: “Say, you boy!”</p>
<p>Joe turned and looked at the speaker.
He was a rather stout, low-browed man,
with a very red nose and a shaven face,
upon which a rough stubble of beard had
begun to grow.</p>
<p>His pantaloons were supported from
below by the tops of his rubber boots,
and suspended from above by a single
brace, which ran diagonally across the
breast of his red flannel shirt.</p>
<p>“Do you want a job, young fellow?”
continued the man.</p>
<p>“What kind of a job?” asked Joe.</p>
<p>“Drivin’.”</p>
<p>“Drivin’ what?”</p>
<p>“Hosses on the canal. My boy got<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</SPAN></span>
sick las’ night, an’ I’ve got to git another
one. Do ye know anything about
hosses?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” replied Joe. “I’ve driven ’em a
good deal, and always taken care of ’em.”</p>
<p>“Well, my boat’s unloaded, an’ I’m
ready to pull right out. Wha’ do ye
say? Go?”</p>
<p>“What wages do you pay?” asked the
boy, hesitatingly.</p>
<p>“Well, you’re big an’ smart-lookin’ an’
know how to handle hosses, an’ I’ll give
you extra big pay.”</p>
<p>Joe’s spirits rose. True, the man looked
forbidding, and undesirable as a master;
but if he paid good wages, the rest might
be endured.</p>
<p>“Well, what will you pay?” persisted
the boy.</p>
<p>“I’ll give ye four dollars for the round
trip, an’ board an’ lodge ye.”</p>
<p>Joe’s spirits fell.</p>
<p>“How long does the trip take?” he
asked.</p>
<p>“Two weeks.”</p>
<p>“An’ when do I get my money?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Half at Honesdale, an’ half when you
git back here.”</p>
<p>“Well, I don’t know; I—”</p>
<p>“Make up your mind quick. If you
don’t want the job, I’ll be lookin’ for
another boy.”</p>
<p>Joe thought of his penniless condition.
It might not be long, indeed, before he
would be starving. Here was a chance
to obtain at least food and shelter, and
probably enough to buy an overcoat.</p>
<p>“Well,” he said, “I’ll go.”</p>
<p>“All right. Have you had any breakfast?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Come along with me, an’ I’ll give
you some.”</p>
<p>Joe’s spirits rose again at the thought
of breakfast. He followed the man down
the dock a short distance, then from the
dock to a canal-boat lying close by, and
from this boat to another, and still another.</p>
<p>When the last boat was reached, they
went down into the cabin, where a colored
man was cooking food.</p>
<p>A leaf projecting from the wall was<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</SPAN></span>
already propped to a horizontal position,
and on it were a few plates, knives and
forks, a dish of warmed-up potatoes, a
slice or two of fried ham, and some bread
and butter.</p>
<p>The negro was preparing coffee also.
The odor of it all was very pleasant to
Joe as he climbed down the steep cabin
stairs, and he did not wait long after being
told to help himself.</p>
<p>“I’ve hired this boy for the trip,” the
man explained to his cook. “What’s
your name, young feller, anyhow?” he
continued, turning to the boy.</p>
<p>“Joe.”</p>
<p>“What else?”</p>
<p>“That’s all,—for the present, anyway.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I see! Run away, did ye? Well,
I won’t be so partic’ler. My name’s Rosencamp,—Bill
Rosencamp. Cap’n Bill,
for short. An’ this gentleman’s name,”
turning to the negro, “is Blixey. He’s
like you; he’s only got one name; but he
can’t help it,—he never had no other.”</p>
<p>Blixey laughed immoderately at this,
and poured the coffee with an unsteady<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</SPAN></span>
hand. He seemed to be so weak and
wavering in all his movements, his eyes
were so bloodshot, and his utterance so
thick, that Joe thought he must have
been drinking; but he had not been,—at
any rate, not that morning.</p>
<p>Joe enjoyed his breakfast greatly.
Though it was a coarse meal, it was the
best he had eaten for many days, and
when he was done with it he was ready
to go to work, and said so.</p>
<p>Accordingly he was sent to scrub the
deck, while Blixey washed the dishes,
and the captain looked after the tow. A
bustling little tug-boat had already made
fast to a fleet of empty canal-boats, Rosencamp’s
among the number, and was hauling
them up the stream.</p>
<p>Rondout was now awake. The island
in the bay was a scene of great activity.
The clang of heavy machinery and the
rasping noise of coal sliding on iron surfaces
filled the air. Boats were moving
in all directions. There were a hundred
people on the wharf, and twice a hundred,
many of them women and little children<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</SPAN></span>
on the decks of the moored canal-boats.</p>
<p>Up the stream the scene became picturesque.
On each side were precipitous
hills, wooded to the river’s edge, their
green heights reflected in the still water
at their feet. There were cement mines
to be seen, and old white-faced mansions;
and half-way up the boat passed under a
lofty iron bridge across which dashed a
railway train.</p>
<p>Notwithstanding the dulness of the sky
and the occasional falling of raindrops,
Joe enjoyed the ride very much. At
Eddyville the first lock, a tide-lock, bars
the way, and here the horses and mules
are kept.</p>
<p>“Do you see that stable over there?”
said the captain to Joe. “My hosses is
there. You go an’ git ’em. Ask for
Cap’n Bill’s hosses.”</p>
<p>Joe did as he was told. After some good-natured
chaffing on the part of the stable-keeper,
the raw-boned worn-out horses were
turned over to him, and the boy appeared
on the tow-path leading them.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Joe was told that these animals were
named Jack and Jill. Jack had fallen
down the bank from the tow-path to the
river one day, and Jill had come tumbling
after. Whatever their names had been
before, this incident had definitely renamed
them.</p>
<p>The horses were fastened to the tow-line,
and the tow-line was attached to the
timber-head of the boat. Joe was duly
installed as driver.</p>
<p>His duties were not at all light. He
had to walk all the way, and to keep the
horses going at a good pace, which in
itself was no easy task. He must keep
on the inside of the tow-path, so that his
boat should pass over the tow-lines of the
loaded boats they met, and must pull up
sharply when a lock was reached.</p>
<p>Sometimes, in the vicinity of locks,
great confusion arose from the crowding
of boats and the intertangling of tow-lines.
Then Joe became practically helpless.
But Captain Bill, after much pushing
and angry shouting, always managed to
straighten out matters and get the boat
under way again.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>At Rosendale there was a long delay.
Something had gone wrong with the gates
at the lock.</p>
<p>Joe was not sorry for this, for it was
now late in the forenoon, and he was very
tired from his long tramp.</p>
<p>Captain Bill had gone off up the wharf to
a canal store, Blixey was busy in the cabin,
and the horses were drowsily munching
oats from baskets tied under their noses.</p>
<p>A drizzling rain was falling, and Joe
took shelter under a shed a little back
from the tow-path while he waited.</p>
<p>He had not been long there when a big,
uncouth-looking boy came shambling in
and sat down on a box near by.</p>
<p>“Hello!” said the boy.</p>
<p>“Hello!” responded Joe.</p>
<p>“Drivin’ for Bill Rosey?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“Better look out for ’im.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“He’s <em>bad</em>.”</p>
<p>“Is that so?”</p>
<p>“Yes, an’ ugly.”</p>
<p>“Is he?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes, an’ works you to death. He’s
used up three boys a’ready; one went
home yisterday all stove to pieces. I
wouldn’t work for ’im; I quit.”</p>
<p>Joe was naturally very much startled,
but he soon found breath to ask,—</p>
<p>“Did you work for him once?”</p>
<p>“Did I? Well, I should say so.”</p>
<p>“What did he do to you?”</p>
<p>“Not much; licked me, an’ kicked me,
an’ robbed me,—that’s all. Say, what’s
he goin’ to pay you?”</p>
<p>“Four dollars for the round trip.”</p>
<p>“The thief!”</p>
<p>“Why, isn’t that enough?”</p>
<p>“Enough! W’y, five dollars was my
wages for the roun’ trip, an’ another feller
I knew was to have six; only we didn’t
neither of us git no money. Oh, he’s
a bad man, he is; you better look out
fer ’im.”</p>
<p>The boy rose awkwardly, as if to go.</p>
<p>“Well,” said Joe, anxiously, “I’ve
hired out to him now, you know. What
would you do about it if you was in my
place?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The big boy sat down again more awkwardly,
if possible, than he had risen.</p>
<p>“I’ll tell ye jest what I would do,” he
began earnestly.</p>
<p>But he never told what it was, and Joe
never had the benefit of his advice; for
at that moment the bony figure of Captain
Bill appeared at the corner of the shed.</p>
<p>The jaw of the large boy dropped suddenly,
and jumping up from the box he
made his escape to the tow-path.</p>
<p>“You’d better git!” shouted the man
angrily after him. “What’d he say to
ye?” he demanded, turning to Joe.</p>
<p>“He said,” stammered Joe, “he said
that he used to work for you.”</p>
<p>“Did ’e say I used to lick ’im an’ kick
’im, an’ try to knock some sense into ’im?”</p>
<p>“Why, yes; something like that.”</p>
<p>“Well, I did, an’ I’ll do the same to
you ef ye don’t ’ten’ closer to business.
Come! Git out there to them horses!
See w’ere they’re a-goin’! Jest look at
that tow-line!”</p>
<p>The man’s look and manner were so
fierce that Joe dared not even reply.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>He hurried out to his disagreeable task
with a sinking heart, and began to draw
up the tow-line, which had slipped under
the boat, and which, after much scolding
on Captain Bill’s part, was straightened
out.</p>
<p>The boat was “locked through” at last,
and not long after Blixey called up that
dinner was ready. The captain ate first,
while Blixey minded the tiller. Then
Blixey ate, and afterward relieved Joe on
the tow-path.</p>
<p>There was not much left when the boy
reached the table,—not nearly enough to
satisfy his hunger. But Captain Bill
stood at the rudder-post looking fiercely
down the hatchway at him, and when he
had eaten what was on the table he dared
not ask for more.</p>
<p>“Wash them dishes!” ordered the
captain.</p>
<p>Joe washed the dishes, put them away
on the shelves, and then went up on deck.
The light rain of the morning had settled
into a steady downpour, and the boat was
drenched.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Here!” said Captain Bill, “you come
here. Now take a-holt o’ this tiller, an’
push it as I tell ye to.”</p>
<p>Joe grasped the tiller, and the man
went back and began to pump water from
the hold.</p>
<p>“Pull it to ye!” shouted the captain,
as the boy, wondering how it worked, allowed
the tiller to swing slowly from him.</p>
<p>“Pull it to ye, I say! Can’t ye see
where the boat’s a-goin’?”</p>
<p>Joe pulled; but it was no easy matter
to check the impetus of the rudder in
the opposite direction, and the boat still
swung stern away.</p>
<p>“Pull!” shouted the man. “Don’t
stand there like a stick o’ wood. Pull!”</p>
<p>The boy was pulling with all his might,
but as yet without avail.</p>
<p>Captain Bill dropped the pump-rod and
sprang to the tiller. Seizing it on the
opposite side from where Joe stood, he
thrust it violently outward, pushing Joe
with it, backing him across the deck, backing
him relentlessly till the edge of the
boat was reached.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>The boy to save himself from the
water was obliged to turn and leap
toward shore.</p>
<p>Fortunately the boat was near the bank,
and Joe was able to scramble up the tow-path,
more frightened than either hurt
or wet.</p>
<p>Captain Bill shook his fist at him
angrily.</p>
<p>“You go ahead to them hosses,” he
shouted; “and you, Blixey,” raising his
voice still higher, “you come back here
an’ pump out this boat!”</p>
<p>Blixey, who had seen Joe’s mishap,
laughed hoarsely. His trembling knock-knees,
as he walked toward the boat,
seemed each moment likely to give
way.</p>
<p>Joe was very far from being in a laughing
mood. Never in his life had he been
treated like this. Still, violently angry
as he was, he feared to disobey this ruffian;
he was even afraid to remonstrate
with him.</p>
<p>He went forward meekly, took the gad
that Blixey handed to him, and resumed<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</SPAN></span>
the monotonous task of urging on the
tired and miserable horses. He was already
drenched to the skin, sore in mind
and body, and sick at heart.</p>
<p>Once as he walked, he chanced to remember
how he and his sister Jennie
used to play on the haymow in the big
barn on rainy afternoons. Somehow the
memory brought tears to his eyes; but
he brushed them away and trudged
on.</p>
<p>Many loaded boats were met coming
down, and many locks were passed. It
was always a relief to the monotony to
come to a lock, and take the horses
around it, and wait while the boat was
being locked through. Often there were
little villages at the locks, too, and small
stores fronting on the tow-path, and people
looking out from behind the store
windows.</p>
<p>The rain came down as steadily as
ever. The tow-path grew muddier and
more slippery with every passing moment,
and the long hours wore on.</p>
<p>By and by it grew dark, but the boats<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</SPAN></span>
in the canal kept moving. Lights shone
from the cabin windows, and red lamps
gleamed from the bows of the boats; but
the tow-path, where Joe walked, was
wrapped in the deepest gloom.</p>
<hr class="chap" />
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</SPAN></span></p>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />