NIMBLE IKE THE TRICK VENTRILOQUIST.

A Rousing Tale of Fun and Frolic.

By OLD SLEUTH.

Copyright, 1894, by Parlor Car Publishing Company. All Rights Reserved.

NEW YORK: J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY, 57 Rose Street.

NIMBLE IKE THE TRICK VENTRILOQUIST.

CHAPTER I.

“You have bags of gold, and do you refuse to give me just a little?”

“Not one cent.”

“I helped you to earn that money.”

“Yes.”

“And you refuse to give me any, and you are going away?”

“I refuse to give you any and I am going away.”

The above dialogue occurred in a room on the top floor of a great tenement house, and a strangely picturesque scene was presented. An old man with frowzy hair, and deep-set eyes illuminating a dark and wrinkled face, sat by a table. Opposite to the old man was a bright-faced lad of thirteen or fourteen. The furnishings of the room were reasonably comfortable and on the table burned a flickering candle. Indeed the whole scene was weird and strange in the extreme.

The lad was kneeling on a stool and his elbows were resting on the table, and there was a serious and earnest look upon his bright face; and the shadow deepened when the old man repeated:

“Yes, I am going away and I refuse to give you anything.”

[6]

“Are you treating me right?” asked the lad, in a wistful tone of entreaty.

“Yes.”

“No, you are not. I have worked hard. I am penniless; I am but a boy, you are rich. You do not mean to leave me penniless?”

“All that you say is true. You did help me to earn the money; you did serve me well; but I have repaid you in full. I owe you nothing.”

“How so?”

“You have been my pupil; you excel your master; you are the most wonderful trick ventriloquist in the world; you will have no trouble in earning money; you can make a fortune greater than mine; you were an apt pupil. You have a better chance than I, lad, and you owe all to me. I have supported you well; I have educated you. You speak three different languages, and the man does not live in the world who can excel you as a magician or a ventriloquist. Your education and your talents are your fortune.”

“But you should give me a little money.”

“No, I need it all. Yes, I have worked hard, I have saved my money. I need it all, yes, all, for purposes of revenge.”

A moment the lad was silent and thoughtful, but at length he said:

“You promised some day to tell me about myself. You are not my father. You have told me you were in no way related to me. Who am I? What am I? Who were my parents? Where are they? You told me some day I should know all.”

“You shall.”

“Good; tell me now.”

“No, not now; some day I will tell you all. You were born in India; your parents are dead; you have relatives[7] living. It would be of no advantage to you now to know who your relatives are; some day it may be. I will watch; if that day come you shall know all. It will be of no advantage to you to know now.”

“And you refuse to tell me?”

“I do.”

“Will you tell me my real name?”

“Your real name is Isaac. You bear my last name Andro. It is a good name and will serve you for the present. The name you have is Nimble Ike, for you are the most nimble lad in the world. I have been very careful in your instruction; the lad does not live who in every way is as accomplished as yourself.”

“And yet I will be penniless.”

“Not long will you be penniless with your talents and your experience. Remember how much you have seen of the world; remember how great has been your experience. You have visited with me every city and town of any importance in the United States. Few middle-aged men have had your experience. You are less than fourteen to-day and possess the experience and knowledge of most men of forty. You are a wonderful lad; you need never want for food or money.”

“And is that all you will tell me about myself?”

“All at present.”

“But we may never meet again.”

“Oh, yes, we will meet some day, and here is a little box. Do not open it; in fact you can only open it by smashing it, but if at any time you are sick and helpless open the box. On your honor do not open it unless, as I say, you are sick and helpless and starving. Obey me and all will be well; disobey me and trouble will overtake you. Never lose the box. String it around your neck as a charm and some day it may be of benefit to you; but the best I can wish you is that you never have occasion to smash the box.”

[8]

The old man spoke the last words in a very solemn, warning tone, and then handed a tiny little box to our hero, that could readily be strung over his heart, as a talisman, without any inconvenience.

“When do you go?” asked the lad.

“I will bid you good-by some day this week.”

“How about the things here in this room?”

“They are yours, and the rent is paid for three months. Yes, the furniture is yours.”

“Then you do give me something.”

“Yes, but no money. I need the money; but some day we will meet again and then I may have a wonderful revelation to make to you.”

“Will you leave me your address?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I have my own reasons for disappearing and leaving no trace behind.”

“But will you know whether I am alive or dead?”

“Oh, yes; I have read the future. You will flourish all right, but remember one thing: remain honest; cheat no man; lie to no man; and remember that while you are at present only a showman that some day you may be a gentleman, and then your record will tell for or against you.”

A little later and Ike retired to his bed. The little box had been strung around his neck, and his thoughts were centered on its contents, and despite the strong prohibition he felt an especially strong desire to open it. In fact he argued audibly:

“I have not been treated fairly. I have a right to open the box. Hang me, I will open it.”

With this resolve in his mind the lad rose from his bed slyly and searched around for something wherewith to smash the box. He found a heavy spike; and then it occurred to him that the noise might awaken the old[9] magician, and he hesitated. Finally he remembered he had a strong knife in his pocket. He could pry the box open. He drew the knife from his pocket and made an attempt to pry open the lid when suddenly he felt a cold hand on his cheek. He turned and beheld a figure in white standing before him, and the figure spoke, saying:

“Remember your promise.”

Ike was a lad of extraordinary nerve. He had speculated in surprises all his life as the assistant of the necromancer. He had worked all manner of surprises, and therefore was less likely to be overcome by a sudden apparition. He demanded:

“What promise?”

“You promised not to open the box.”

The lad recalled that he had made such a promise and the figure spoke again and said:

“It is a test of honor. If you open that box you are without honor.”

The lad at once exclaimed:

“I will not open the box; or, only under the conditions named.”

The figure disappeared and—well, the lad started up in bed. He had only dreamed. Then he closed his eyes and dropped off into sleep. He had about resolved to open the box, and thus had come to him a dream. He made sure that he had been dreaming and then said:

“I renew my promise. I will not open the box. I will keep the promise I made when awake and the promise I made in my dream.”

The lad awoke at his usual hour and after dressing entered the room where the old magician usually slept on a mattress placed on the floor. The old man was not there and the lad muttered:

“How strange! Uncle Andro does not go out before breakfast as a rule.”

[10]

The boy stood gazing around the room when his glance fell upon a note lying on the table. He seized the note and read:

“You will not see me again until fate has done its best or worst. Make no inquiry for me. I have left one dollar for you. All else in the rooms is yours, as I told you. Good-by until we meet again at the command of fate.

“Uncle Andro.”

“He has deserted me,” said Ike in a low, sad tone. “Yes, he has deserted me. I did not think he would go away and not say good-by. He intended to steal away when he was talking to me last night. I cannot help it, and I will not complain. I am but a boy, but I have had a large experience. I can work tricks better than my master. I will get along well enough; but I would like to know what he meant all these years when he continually alluded to fate as connected with me. Hang fate! I am going to strike in for myself.”

The lad placed the note on the table and as he did so he espied a neatly folded bill. He unfolded it and found it was a “fiver,” as the boys say.

“Well, he did leave me enough for a meal.”

There was enough in the rooms for several meals and Ike prepared his breakfast—he had been accustomed to so doing. He was a resolute lad, and we will here state that there are many resolute lads to-day struggling against adverse fate, and they are doing it cheerfully and without complaint.

We will make one more statement; some of our friends have often said to us:

“It is wonderful how you can make up all the incidents in your stories.” We answer upon these occasions, that more incidents, strange and wonderful, are occurring every day than the most imaginative author could conceive[11] in a month—incidents far stranger than go upon record; and we are not compelled to “make up” incidents, simply because “fact is stranger than fiction,” and we have more incidents and actual occurrences in our note-book than we can ever relate.

Ike finished his meal and then lay down on old Andro’s mattress to think over the past and study the future. At length, however, he determined to go forth. There was no need for him to look over his possessions; he knew every article in that room and its value thoroughly, and he had a five-dollar bill. He started to go down the stairs, and on the floor below the one he and old Andro had occupied for over a year he saw a little girl come from a room. The child was very pretty and had been weeping. Ike was a tender-hearted, sympathetic fellow. He had never seen the child before, but upon beholding that she had been weeping his curiosity was aroused. Once more, dear reader, how often do we meet people who invite our sympathies in great cities. I can say one on about every square mile as we walk the streets.

The little girl preceded our hero down the stairs, for he had stepped aside to permit her to do so, and when she reached the street he followed her. She walked along at a slow pace and several times Ike could hear her sob, and beheld her little delicate frame quiver with emotion; he could not stand it and he ran up and accosted the girl, saying “Good-morning.”

The child started back in an affrighted manner.

“You are crying,” said Ike, in a very kindly tone, “can I aid you?”

The child fixed her blue eyes upon him, and, after a moment, in a low tone, answered:

“No.”

“Mebbe I can?”

“No.”

[12]

“How do you know I can’t help you?”

“I know it.”

“Tell me how you know it?”

“Because I want money; you can’t give me money.”

“I can’t, eh?”

“No, how can you?”

“Easy enough; how much money do you want?”

“I don’t know, mamma told me to go out and ask for money.”

The girl was not over ten years of age.

“Don’t you know how much money you need?”

“No.”

“Will five dollars do?”

“Yes.”

“I can give you five dollars.”

“Why should you give me five dollars?”

“Because you need it; that is a good reason, I reckon.”

“Will you come and see my mamma and tell her? She knows how much money we need.”

“Yes, I’ll go and see your mamma.”

“Come.”

The girl led the way back and our hero accompanied her; they ascended to the room from whence Ike had seen the girl issue and entered, the girl still leading the way. Ike beheld at a glance that it was the home of need; on a bed lay a woman, possibly she had once been comely looking, but she did not look pretty as the boy beheld her. She was evidently quite ill and her complexion was the color of saffron.

“Mamma,” said the little girl, “here is a good boy, who says he will give us five dollars. Is that enough?”

The woman’s eyes bulged in their sunken sockets, and she asked:

“Who is the boy?”

“I think he is the boy who lives with the strange old man overhead.”

[13]

Ike stepped beside the bed and said:

“Madam, I have got five dollars to which you are welcome if it will be of any service to you.”

The woman just glared but remained silent.

Ike pulled the money from his pocket and proffered it to the invalid, who, for the first time spoke, and asked:

“Why should you give me five dollars?”

“Because you need it.”

“But can you spare it?”

“I do not need it as much as you do,” was the startling and really suggestive answer.

“Who are you?”

“My name is Isaac Andro.”

“And you propose to give me five dollars?”

“Here it is,” said Ike, and he tendered the money.

“I cannot take it.”

“Why not?”

“You cannot afford to give it to me.”

“Yes, I can.”

“Have you plenty of money?”

“That’s all I’ve got.”

“That is all you have?”

“Yes.”

“And you offer it to me?”

“Yes.”

“How strange; why should you?”

“I told you why; you need it more than I do.”

“I do need it, but I will not take it from you, no, no; you can give us a few cents, enough to buy a loaf of bread, but I will not take the five dollars.”

“Do you need something to eat?”

“Why, sir,” said the woman, “we have not had a mouthful pass our lips in twenty-four hours.”

“Great Scott!” cried Ike, “why, I’ve got lots of food upstairs, I’ll go and get some,” and without waiting for[14] remonstrance, or thanks, or inquiry, the lad shot from the room.

Ike prepared some coffee, he had all necessary appliances, and he had plenty of bread and cold meat, and he returned as quickly as possible with the food; he placed it on the table, and demanded:

“Where are your plates, and knives and forks?”

“We have none, all are gone.”

Ike had noticed, as stated, that there were few things in the room; the woman reposed on a cot, there was a table and one chair, no carpet, and he, at the last moment, discovered that there was no stove nor any of the usual, even poor equipments that can be found in the poorest apartments.

Again he left the room and soon returned with cups, plates, knives and forks, and he bustled around and set things all ready for eating. He carried the invalid a cup of coffee, and some bread and meat, which she devoured with avidity. The little girl also betrayed an excellent appetite and as her hunger became appeased she exclaimed:

“Mamma, this is just splendid.”

Ike’s curiosity was aroused and he asked:

“Madam, how is it I find you so poor?”

“I am a widow, and managed to get along well enough until I was taken sick; my husband was mate of a vessel; the vessel was wrecked and all lives were lost.”

“How long ago did it all happen?”

“My husband was wrecked five years ago.”

“And have you no friends?”

“No, I was an orphan and my husband was born in the West Indies. He never spoke of having any relatives.”

The woman had appeased her appetite, and she said:

“Now tell me about yourself.”

“Mine is a strange tale, madam. I have a faint, a very faint recollection of once being in a great big house, and[15] as the opera goes, ‘with vassals and serfs at my side.’ It may all be a dream, recollections of splendors that belonged to some one else. Later I remember enduring great hardship with a strange old man; we were in France, England, Spain and Italy, and finally embarked for America; by that time I was old enough to remember all that occurred. We arrived in the United States and the old man commenced instructing me in all kinds of magical skill. He was a magician, we traveled all over the country, and I learned a great deal. He was a strange man, always making strange and mysterious allusions; but he never would make any actual explanations, nor would he tell me anything about myself. He accumulated a great deal of money, and—” the lad proceeded and related the subsequent facts which are known to our readers.

“And he deserted you!”

“Yes.”

“And took all the money?”

“Yes.”

“And you offered me the only five dollars which you had in the world?”

“What odds? I can make lots of money, and I am alone. I’ve got an idea and——”

Ike was interrupted; there came a rap at the door, the woman betrayed agitation and the little girl turned deathly pale and instinctively ejaculated:

“Oh, dear! it is that awful man.”

Ike suspected the identity of the awful man and called out:

“Come in.”

A mean-looking man entered the room.

“I have come for my money,” he said.

“How much money is due you?” asked Ike.

“Four dollars and seventy-five cents—one month’s rent.”

[16]

“Here is your money, give me the change and a receipt as quick as you can.”

It did not take the man long to hand over the change and the receipt—the latter he had ready—and then in a cold-blooded manner, he announced:

“You must move out, I have let the rooms, the new tenants will come in this afternoon.”

The poor woman struggled hard to say something; she was about to make an appeal but Ike anticipated her and declared:

“That’s all right, we will be out of here in an hour.”

The man went away and did not hear the woman’s call for him to return. At length she said to Ike:

“What have you done?”

“The right thing, I reckon.”

“Oh, what will become of us?” moaned the woman

“You are all right for three months.”

“What do you mean?”

“I told you that the rooms overhead were paid for three months in advance; they belong to me, you will move up.”

“And turn you out?”

“Not much, I will take you in.”

“We cannot live on you.”

“What will you do?”

“I don’t know.”

“That is what I thought, so I just did the ‘think’ for you, and for the present you are all right.”

We will not relate all the arguments Ike used to induce the poor widow with her child to move into his rooms. He succeeded, however, and he set right to work to move her few things upstairs; she and her daughter were to occupy one room, and Ike determined to take possession of the bed formerly used by his late master, and he did so with the remark.

“I am the boss now.”

[17]

That same evening the woman whom he had befriended and whose name was Pell, said:

“As soon as I am well I will repay you for all you have done for us.”

“All right, we will wait until you are well.”

A few days passed. Ike had not fully determined on what he would do, as his provisions were fast being devoured. He had no money to pay his rent on the rooms, and in a most startling manner he learned that he must pay for the rooms or—well, he adopted the or—for he was fully assured that the contemptible landlord had determined to take a mean advantage. In some way the fellow learned or suspected that the man who had paid him for the rooms had gone away. He possibly suspected that the rooms had been paid for in advance to the advantage of the boy, and the widow and her child. At any rate one night he called and demanded the month’s rent.

“No rent is due you,” said Ike; “you have been paid three months in advance from the first of last month.”

“I have, eh?”

“You have!”

“Then produce the receipt; that is the shortest way to settle it.”

Old Andro had forgotten, or in some way failed to give Ike a receipt for the rooms. Ike took in the situation at once; he was a wonderfully quick lad, and he said:

“You call here to-morrow night and you shall have the receipt.”

“All right, I will call here to-morrow night.”

As stated, Ike took in the whole situation. The man was a “skin” and intended to steal three months’ rent, and our hero determined to beat him at his game.