Joe the Hotel Boy; Or, Winning out by Pluck by Pluck by Jr. Horatio Alger (the beginning after the end read novel .TXT) 📗

“I've seen him before, but where?” Joe asked himself not once but several times.

The man registered as David Ball, and put down his address as Butte, Montana. He said he was a mining expert, but added that he was sick and the doctors had ordered him to come East for a rest.

“'ve heard of Riverside being a nice place,” said he, “so I came on right after striking Pittsburg.”

“We shall do all we can to make your stay a pleasant one,” said the hotel proprietor, politely.

“All I want is a nice sunny room, where I can get fresh air and take it easy,” said the man.

He was willing to pay a good price, and so obtained one of the best rooms in the house, one overlooking the river and the lake. He ate one meal in the dining room, but after that he had his meals sent to his apartment.

“Is he sick?” asked Joe, after watching the man one day.

“He certainly doesn't seem to be well,” answered Andrew Mallison.

“It runs in my mind that I have seen him before, but I can't place him,” went on our hero.

“You must be mistaken, Joe. I questioned him and he says this is his first trip to the East, although he has frequently visited St. Louis and Chicago.”

On the following day the man called for a physician and Doctor Gardner was sent for.

“I've got pains here,” said the man from the West, and pointed to his chest. “Do you think I am getting consumption?”

The Riverside physician made a careful examination and then said the man had probably strained himself.

“Reckon I did,” was the ready answer. “I was in the mine and a big rock came down on me. I had to hold it up for ten minutes before anybody came to my aid. I thought I was a dead one sure.”

“I will give you some medicine and a liniment,” said the doctor. “Perhaps you'll feel better after a good rest.” And then he left.

That afternoon Joe had to go up into the hotel for something and passed the room of the new boarder. He saw the man standing by the window, gazing out on the water.

“I'm dead certain I've seen him before,” mused our hero. “It is queer I can't think where.”

Doctor Gardner wanted to be taken across the lake and Joe himself did the job. As he was rowing he asked about the man who had signed the hotel register as David Ball from Montana.

“Is he very sick, doctor?”

“No, I can't say that he is,” was the physician's answer. “He looks to be as healthy as you or I.”

“It's queer he keeps to his room.”

“Perhaps something happened out at his mine to unsettle his nerves. He told me of some sort of an accident.”

“Is he a miner?”

“He is a mine owner, so Mr. Mallison told me, but he never heard of the man before.”

The stranger received several letters the next day and then a telegram. Shortly after that he took to his bed.

“I am feeling worse,” said he to the bell boy who answered his ring. “I want you to send for that doctor again. Ask him to call about noon.”

“Yes, sir,” answered the boy, and Doctor Gardner was sent for without delay. He came and made another examination and left some medicine.

“I'll take the medicine regularly,” said the stranger, who was in bed. But when the doctor had left he quietly poured half of the contents of the bottle into the wash bowl, where it speedily drained from sight!

“Don't catch me drinking such rot,” he muttered to himself. “I'd rather have some good liquor any day,” and he took a long pull from a black bottle he had in his valise.

About noon a carriage drove up to the hotel and two men alighted.

One led the way into the hotel and asked to see the register.

“I'd like to see Mr. David Ball,” said he to the clerk.

“Mr. Ball is sick.”

“So I have heard and that is why I wish to see him.”

“I'll send up your card.”

“I don't happen to have a card. Tell him Mr. Anderson is here, from Philadelphia, with a friend of his.”

The message was sent to the sick man's room, and word came down that he would see the visitors in a few minutes.

“He says he is pretty sick and he can't talk business very long,” said the bell boy.

“We won't bother him very much,” answered the man who had given his name as Anderson.

Joe happened to be close by during this conversation and he looked the man called Anderson over with care.

“I've seen that man, too!” he declared to himself. “But where? I declare he is as much of a mystery as the sick one!”

Our hero's curiosity was now aroused to the highest pitch, and when the two men walked up to David Ball's room he followed to the very doorway.

“Come in,” came from the room, and a deep groan followed. On the bed lay the man from Montana, wrapped in several blankets and with a look of anguish on his features.

“Feeling pretty bad, eh?” said Anderson, as he stalked in. “I am downright sorry for you.”

“I'm afraid I am going to die,” groaned the man in bed. “The doctor says I am in bad shape. He wants me to take a trip to Europe, or somewhere else.”

“This is Mr. Maurice Vane,” went on Anderson. “We won't trouble you any more than is necessary, Mr. Ball.”

“I am sorry to disturb you,” said Maurice Vane. He was a kindly looking gentleman. “Perhaps we had better defer this business until some other time.”

“Oh, no, one time is as bad as another,” came with another groan from the bed. “Besides, I admit I need money badly. If it wasn't for that—“. The man in bed began to cough. “Say, shut the door,” he went on, to the first man who had come in.

The door was closed, and for the time being Joe heard no more of the conversation.

It must be admitted that our hero was perplexed, and with good reason. He felt certain that the man in bed was shamming, that he was hardly sick at