# The Steel Horse/Chapter 3

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CHAPTER III.
A CASE OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY.
THE expression that came upon Arthur's face and Roy's when the sleek and plausible stranger hurried away from them, without waiting for the money that Joe was getting ready to give him, was a study. Joe gave them one quick glance, and then, utterly heedless of the fact that he was drawing the amused attention of many of the passing crowd, placed his hands upon his hips and laughed—not boisterously, as he would if he had been in the woods or even in Mount Airy, but none the less heartily.
"Was—was it a bite?" inquired Arthur, as soon as he could speak.
"I should say it was," replied Joe, wiping the tears from his eyes. "And you fellows thought I was taken in by it. Don't you read the papers, you two? Why, that game is old ​enough to be gray-headed. No one ever tried to play it on me before, but I recognized it in a minute."
"I confess that I don't see where the trick comes in," said Roy.
"Don't you? Well, look here. The reason that fellow gave for turning the purse over to us was because he couldn't wait until morning to claim the reward that would surely be offered for its recovery, being obliged to leave town by the first train. Some folks would believe that story. The purse is fat enough to excite the cupidity of a dishonest man, who, nine times out of ten, will pay the sharper out of his own pocket, rather than open the purse and let him see what there is in it. Now, suppose I had given that fellow twenty-five good and lawful dollars of the Republic; let's see what I would have received in return."
As Joe said this he turned out the contents of the purse, and Roy and Arthur discovered, to their no small astonishment, that what they had taken for a greenback was nothing more nor less than the advertisement of a quack ​medicine, warranted to cure every conceivable form of disease. It was wrapped around a roll of brown paper, the ends being turned over to hide it from view.
"He thought I would give him the money he wanted out of my own pocket," continued Joe. "But when he found that I was not quite so green, and that his little game would be exposed in a minute more, and perhaps in the presence of a policeman, he took himself off."
Yes, that was one reason why the sharper left without taking time to say good-by, but there was another that the boys knew nothing about. I must speak of it here so that you will be able to understand what happened afterward.
Just as Joe Wayring was about to open the purse, the sharper cast a furtive glance over his shoulder and saw standing within a few paces of him, and intently watching his every movement, a short, thick-set man, dressed in a plain gray suit. It was evident that the two were not strangers to each other, for when the man in gray scowled and jerked his thumb ​over his shoulder, the sharper lost no time in getting out of sight. At the same instant Roy Sheldon turned his face that way, and the man in the gray suit, as if afraid of being seen and recognized, promptly wheeled about and looked toward the street. But he did not lose sight of the boys. He followed them to the Academy of Music, and sat within a few feet of them during the whole of the performance.
"I'll chuck these things down there so that they can never be used to fool anybody," said Joe, when he and his friends had examined the purse and its contents to their satisfaction, and with the words he tossed the unlucky sharper's stock in trade into an opening between the grating on which they stood and the bottom of the store window. "I wonder what he thinks of country wheelmen by this time."
"He was a pretty sleek talker, wasn't he?" said Roy. "Do you suppose he rides?"
"No," answered Arthur, emphatically. "He is a professional swindler, and has no time to devote to riding. Besides, such chaps don't get into the L. A. W. Well, we've made a very fair beginning; only twelve hours from ​home, and one adventure to our credit already. I hope if we have any more they will all turn out as well as this one has."
Having been shown to their seats in the Academy of Music, the boys devoted themselves to the business of the hour and forgot all about the sharper and his disappointment. Their quiet demeanor evidently excited the surprise of the gentleman in gray, and drew from him some remarks which were addressed to one who came in and took a seat beside him just as the entertainment was about to begin.
"Takes it most too cool, don't he?" said the man in gray. "You're quite sure that there's no mistake about it? Bear in mind that I haven't seen him since his last escapade two years ago, and he has had time to change a good deal since then."
"How in the world can there be any mistake about it?" asked the other, in reply. "Don't I see him every day, and oughtn't I to know him if anybody?"
The first speaker drew a photograph from the inside pocket of his coat and looked at it intently, now and then raising his eyes to ​compare it with the profile of one of the boys in front, which was occasionally turned toward him. At length he appeared to be satisfied with his examination, for he replaced the picture, at the same time remarking, with something like a sigh of resignation:
"It's a go if you insist upon it; but I want you to understand very distinctly that if any trouble follows the arrest, I am not the one to stand the brunt of it."
"How is there going to be any trouble about it? Didn't the old man stand by you before? He did, and paid you well into the bargain. He'll do the same this time, and you may depend upon it."
"But you say he isn't at home now."
"I know it; but I am simply obeying orders, and my word is good till he comes."
"If the boy has everything he wants, including all the money he can spend, and is as kindly treated and as well cared for as you say he is, I don't for the life of me see why he should run away from home," said the man in gray. "Boys don't generally desert home ​and friends without a cause. At least they didn't the first time I was on earth."
"Well, this foolish fellow will do it every chance he gets, because he is determined to find his father. His uncle always tried to make him believe that his parents were both dead; but some gossip or another had to go and tell him different, and the old man hasn't seen a days's peace of mind since. He lives in constant fear that the boy will give him the slip. This is the second time he has tried it, and some day he'll get off. Then there will be a time, I tell you."
"Why doesn't his uncle tell him where his father is, and let him go and see him?"
"Oh, that would never do. Don't you know that the money goes with the boy? His father isn't fit to handle it, for he is a worthless scamp who would squander the last dime of it in less than no time. The law gave him to his uncle, who is also his guardian, and he intends to hold fast to him."
"And the money, too, I suppose. Well, all I have to say is, that if I were in that boy's place my uncle would have to keep a double ​guard over me night and day. If I wanted to see my father I'd see him in spite of everybody. Besides, the boy is pretty near old enough to choose his own guardian."
"Don't say that," whispered the other, hastily. "Whatever you do, don't say that where he can hear it. That's a point of law that he doesn't know anything about, and his uncle wouldn't like to have him posted."
"Pooh! I shan't say anything. If I am employed to catch him as often as he runs away, so much the better for my pocket-book. I am too old to quarrel with my bread and butter."
When the entertainment was ended Joe Wayring and his chums left with the others, and close behind them in the aisle came the man in gray and his companion. In the hall they encountered two dense living streams that came pouring down from the galleries, and in the crush that followed the boys became separated. Joe and Arthur found each other again on the sidewalk, but nothing was to be seen of Roy. As Arthur locked arms with his friend to prevent a second separation, ​they noticed a little knot of curious people gathered by the curbstone, and saw a close carriage driven rapidly away.
"Move on!" exclaimed a burly policeman. "It's nothing at all except a fellow resisting arrest. Move on, please."
The two boys would have been glad to wait for Roy; but as the guardian of the night emphasized his order by resting his club lightly against Joe's back, they concluded that they had better move on. They walked the length of the block and then returned, but no Roy Sheldon was in sight. There were but few people coming out of the hall now, but there was the watchful policeman with his ready club and his stereotyped command:
"Move on, please. Don't block up the walk."
"Roy has certainly come out before this time, and that blue-coat has driven him away," said Joe. "He knows the road to the hotel, and there's where we shall find him."
The boys turned about and went down the street again, and the first thing that attracted their attention when they entered their hotel ​was the familiar uniform which they had adopted for their own—dark blue tights, white flannel shirt with blue trimmings, and white helmet. The boy who wore it was standing with his back to them, examining the register.
"I never noticed before that Roy was so fine a figure," whispered Arthur. "Look at the muscles on his legs. He fills out those tights as though he had been melted and poured into them."
Without saying or doing anything to attract the boy's notice, the two friends slipped up behind him, and Arthur threw his arms over his shoulders.
"Now, you runaway, give an account of yourself!" he exclaimed.
The effect produced by these innocent words was surprising in the extreme. In less than a second the supposed Roy Sheldon proved that he was quite as muscular as he looked to be. Uttering a cry of surprise and alarm he doubled himself up like a jack-knife and lunged forward with all his strength, and then almost as quickly jerked himself backward. By the first ​movement he came within a hair's breadth of throwing Arthur Hastings heavily on his head; and by the second he slipped out of his grasp like an eel. Then he straightened up and faced him with clenched hands and flashing eyes.
"Don't touch me!" he began, fiercely. "If you or any of your hirelings lay an ugly finger on me again—"
When he had said this much he stopped and looked hard at Arthur and then at Joe, while an expression of great astonishment settled on his face. My master and his friend were equally amazed. That was Roy Sheldon's uniform, if they ever saw it, but it wasn't Roy who was in it, although he looked almost exactly like him. There were the same clear-cut features, hazel eyes and wavy brown hair, and the same faint suspicion of a mustache; but they did not belong to Roy Sheldon. A second look showed them that.
"Who are you?" demanded the young fellow, at length.
"I think that is a proper question for us to ask you," replied Arthur, who, having never ​before been handled so easily by any boy of his size, felt disposed to resent it. "What are you doing in our uniform, we'd be pleased to have you tell us."
"Your uniform!" exclaimed the stranger eagerly. "Are you from Jamestown?"
"No. Never heard of such a place about here. Don't even know where it is. We are from Mount Airy."
"Then we are even," said the stranger, in a disappointed tone, "for I don't know where Mount Airy is."
"Then of course you live a good way from here."
"Not so very far; not more than twenty miles, but it might as well be a thousand for all I know about this city. But you are wheelmen, of course. Well, now I wish—but say," added the speaker, as if something had just occurred to him. "Why did you grab me and call me a runaway?"
"Because we thought you were. I mean we took you for a runaway from our party," said Joe; and then he wondered why it was that the stranger exhibited so much anxiety and ​even alarm at the words. "There is another fellow in our party, but we have lost him in some unaccountable manner."
"Does he look anything like me?"
"He does, indeed; so very much like you that when we saw you with our uniform on we took you for our missing friend. You are a little stouter than he is. That's all the difference there is in your figures; but to look at your faces a little distance away, any one not well acquainted with you would take you for twin brothers. How did you happen to choose that uniform? What club do you belong to?"
"I don't belong to any club. How does it come that you happened to choose it when there were so many more that you might have taken?"
"We made it up all out of our own heads," replied Arthur.
"I can't say that I did. I copied it. The Jamestown boys wear it, and I have seen a good many bicyclists running along the road past our island dressed in the same way."
"Your island!" repeated Joe.
"Yes; my island prison, for that is just ​what it is to me. Let's go into the reading-room," said the stranger, seeing that the hotel clerk was becoming interested in their conversation. "I don't care to have everybody hear what I say."
He moved away from the desk as he said this, and Joe and Arthur followed, lost in wonder. If there wasn't a mystery in this young fellow's life he was out of his head. That was plain to both of them.
"My real name is Rowe Shelly," began the stranger, taking possessing of a chair at one of the tables and drawing two others alongside of him, "but when I registered I signed myself Robert Barton, and gave Baltimore as my home."
"What made you do that? What have you been up to?" inquired Joe, while Arthur began to wonder if they had fallen in with another sharper who would presently make an effort to cheat them out of some money.
"I haven't done anything that either of you would not do if you were in my place," answered young Shelly, if that was really his name. "To make a long story short, money is ​at the bottom of all my trouble. My grandfather, when he died, willed the most of his large property to my father, who was his only child, on condition that he quit the sea and settled down on shore with his family, mother and me. There was a step-son, who had assumed the family name in the hope of getting some of the money, but he was left without a dollar. Our home at that time was near some southern seaport whose name I do not remember, for I was too young to know anything. This step-son, who had been dubbed "colonel" on account of his supposed wealth, happened to be at home when grandfather died, and what did he do but get possession of the will, spread the report that father had been lost at sea, take out letters of administration, turn mother out of the house, and have himself appointed my guardian. I don't pretend to know what trickery he resorted to, to bring all this about, but I know he did it."
"Humph! I wouldn't live with such a villain," exclaimed Joe, who was deeply interested. He believed this strange story, and so did Arthur, who told himself that he must ​have been about half crazy when he suspected a boy who bore so close a resemblance to Roy Sheldon of being a sharper.
"I don't live with him any more," replied Rowe. "I have left him for good; but of course I did not take the trouble to ask his consent."
"Oh, that's what made you jump and look frightened when I caught hold of you and called you a runaway, was it?" said Arthur. "If your guardian finds you can he make you go back against your will?"
"Certainly. He has often given me to understand that he will have full control of my actions as well as of my property until I am twenty-one years old."
"Then he told you what isn't so," declared Joe.
"I guess not," answered Rowe doubtfully. "At any rate, when I ran away from him two years ago he gobbled me with the aid of a policeman and took me back."
"But you are older now than you were then," said Joe. "How old are you, if it is a fair question?"
​"I was eighteen last month."
"Then snap your fingers at that guardian of yours, and tell him you are done with him."
"That wouldn't make a particle of difference to him," replied Rowe. "He would have detectives after me, and I don't know but there are some on my track this very minute. That's why I registered under a fictitious name, and adopted this uniform. It is worn by so many wheelmen around here that it will not be likely to attract attention. But I am going to change it the first thing in the morning, trade off my Rudge safety for another wheel, and then put for the country and stay there as long as my money lasts."
"Say, Joe," said Arthur suddenly, "he looks a good deal like Roy Sheldon, doesn't he?"
"He is the very picture of him," answered Joe, surprised.
"And you say," added Arthur, this time addressing himself to Rowe Shelly, "that your guardian put detectives on your track when you ran away from him two years ago, ​and that he has probably got them on your track to-night?"
"I don't think I used those words, but that was what I meant," replied Rowe. "Why do you ask the question, and what makes you glare at me in that fashion?"
"I didn't know that I was glaring at you," said Arthur. "But I wish from the bottom of my heart that you had changed that uniform for another a hundred years ago, or else that you had never adopted it, for it has been the means of getting one of the best fellows that ever lived into trouble."
"Art," exclaimed Joe, starting up in his chair, "do you think—do you mean to say—"
"Doesn't everything go to show it?" exclaimed Arthur, who was very highly excited. "His uniform is the counterpart of ours; he looks so much Roy that a stranger couldn't tell one from the other if he were to see them together; he has the best of reasons for believing that his guardian has put detectives on his track, and who knows—"
​"Good gracious!" cried Joe, starting up in his turn; "I never once thought of that."
"What are you afraid of?" inquired Rowe, whose face betrayed the keenest anxiety and apprehension. "I hope you don't think that my resemblance to your friend has brought him into difficulty."
"That is just what we are afraid of," replied Joe soothingly, while Arthur Hastings paced the room like a caged tiger. "But, of course, nobody can blame you for it. If one of the detectives you spoke of saw him, he probably mistook him for you, just as Arthur and I mistook you for Roy Sheldon. It's a case of mistaken identity, and that's all that can be made of it."
"Nonsense!" exclaimed Arthur; "it is a clear case of abduction."
"We'll have to see a lawyer about that."
"Then let's be about it. What are we wasting time here for?"
"Let us first make sure that Roy has been spirited away by somebody who thought he was Rowe Shelly. Say, Art, you remember the carriage that was driven away just as we came ​out of the Academy of Music, don't you? Well how do we know but Roy was in it, and that he was the fellow who resisted arrest?"
"That's so," exclaimed Arthur. "Suppose we go right back and interview that policeman if we can find him."
When Arthur proposed this plan Rowe Shelly's face grew white again.
"That will be a dead give-away on me, won't it?" said he.
"I don't see why it should be," replied Joe. "We're not going to tell any one that we have seen you. If you are afraid of it, go somewhere while we are gone, and then we can say, if we are asked questions we don't care to answer, that we don't know where you are."
The young stranger evidently thought this a suggestion worth heeding, for when Joe and his companion left the room he followed slowly after them, first carefully reconnoitering the office to make sure there was no one there he did not want to meet.
"What's your opinion of that fellow, any way?" asked Joe, as he and Arthur hurried along the street toward the Academy of Music. ​"He tells a queer story, but I really believe there are some grains of truth in it."
"So do I," answered Arthur. "And if it turns out that Roy has been kidnapped, I shall believe it is all true. I wish that Shelly boy had been in Guinea before he adopted our uniform."
"Or else that we had been there," added Joe. "He's got as much right to it as we have. Look here, Art. We mustn't let the Mount Airy folks know anything about this."
"Not by a long shot. They'd order us home as they did when they read in the papers that Matt Coyle had tied you to a tree in the woods. If Roy is in a scrape we'll help him out of it and get well on our way beyond Bloomingdale before we say a word about it."
The boys were not obliged to go all the way to the hall in which they had passed the evening, for they met the officer of whom they were in search at the lower end of his beat. Arthur thought he looked at them rather sharply as they came up, but he answered their questions civilly enough.
"Policeman," said Joe, "will you please ​tell us what sort of a looking fellow it was who was put into a carriage in front of the Academy of Music, and driven away just as the performance ended? You were on duty there at the time."
"Aw! go on now!" replied the officer goodnaturedly. "He must have been one of your own crowd, for he wore the same kind of clothes."
"What was his name?" asked Arthur, whose heart seemed to sink down into his boots when he heard this answer.
"Aw, now!" said the officer again, "what's the use of my wasting my time with you? You know more about him than I do; but I will tell you one thing: you had better keep clear of him, or he will bring you into trouble. He's a bad nation. He stole a pile of money from his guardian before he ran away."
"Not the boy who was put into the carriage, if it was the one we think it was," said Joe earnestly. "In the first place, he has no guardian, and he never stole a cent, for his father gives him all the money he needs. There's been a big mistake made here, Mr. Officer."
​"Haw, haw!" laughed the policeman. He turned on his heel and started back along his beat, but he did not shake off the boys. They wanted to learn something before they left him, so they kept close to him, one on each side.
"But I assure you there has been the biggest kind of a blunder made," Joe insisted. "The wrong boy has been arrested. His name is Roy Sheldon, and he left Mount Airy with us this morning. Everybody there knows him and us, too."
"No, I guess not," replied the policeman, with another laugh. "Bab's been in the business too long to make a mistake that might get him into trouble."
"Who's Bab?"
"Why, Bab—Babcock, the detective," answered the officer, in a tone which implied that he had no patience with a boy who could ask him so foolish a question. "The youngster had the cheek to appeal to me for protection, but I told him he had better go along peaceable and quiet, for it would only make matters worse for him if he didn't. I knew Bab, you see."
​"Well, this is a pretty state of affairs, I must say," exclaimed Arthur, his anger getting the better of his prudence. "Of course Roy resisted, as any other decent fellow would have done under the same circumstances; and when he asked for protection from one of whom he had a right to expect it, he was told that he had better go along if he wanted to keep out of worse trouble."
"That's enough from you, young man," said the officer, shortly. "If you give me any more of your insolence I will run you in to keep company with that runaway and thief. Move on, now."
Arthur didn't wait for a second order. He faced about at once and started back toward his hotel; but Joe stayed behind. He wanted to ask another question or two, although he hardly expected that the policeman would answer them.