



Produced by Charles Keller and David Widger





JOE THE HOTEL BOY

OR

WINNING OUT BY PLUCK



By Horatio Alger, Jr.




CONTENTS.

     I.      OUT IN A STORM
     II.     A MYSTERIOUS CONVERSATION
     III.    A HOME IN RUINS
     IV.     THE SEARCH FOR THE BLUE BOX
     V.      A NEW SUIT OF CLOTHES
     VI.     AN ACCIDENT ON THE LAKE
     VII.    BLOWS AND KIND DEEDS
     VIII.   THE TIMID MR. GUSSING
     IX.     AN UNFORTUNATE OUTING
     X.      DAVID BALL FROM MONTANA
     XI.     A FRUITLESS CHASE
     XII.    THE PARTICULARS OF A SWINDLE
     XIII.   OFF FOR THE CITY
     XIV.    A SCENE ON THE TRAIN
     XV.     WHAT HAPPENED TO JOSIAH BEAN
     XVI.    A MATTER OF SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS
     XVII.   JOE'S NEW POSITION
     XVIII.  JOE SHOWS HIS MUSCLE
     XIX.    ONE KIND OF A DUEL
     XX.     ATTACKED IN THE DARK
     XXI.    DAYS AT THE HOTEL
     XXII.   ABOUT SOME MINING SHARES
     XXIII.  THE FIRE AT THE HOTEL
     XXIV.   THE BLUE BOX AT LAST
     XXV.    JOE VISITS CHICAGO
     XXVI.   HOW A SATCHEL DISAPPEARED
     XXVII.  JOE MAKES A DISCOVERY
     XXVIII. FROM OUT OF A TREE
     XXIX.   THE FATE OF TWO EVILDOERS
     XXX.    CONCLUSION




PREFACE.

A number of years ago the author of this story set out to depict life
among the boys of a great city, and especially among those who had to
make their own way in the world. Among those already described are
the ways of newsboys, match boys, peddlers, street musicians, and many
others.

In the present tale are related the adventures of a country lad who,
after living for some time with a strange hermit, goes forth into the
world and finds work, first in a summer hotel and then in a large hotel
in the city. Joe finds his road no easy one to travel, and he has to
face not a few hardships, but in the end all turns out well.

It may be added here that many of the happenings told of in this story,
odd as they may seem, are taken from life. Truth is indeed stranger than
fiction, and life itself is full of romance from start to finish.

If there is a moral to be drawn from this story, it is a twofold one,
namely, that honesty is always the best policy, and that if one wishes
to succeed in life he must stick at his work steadily and watch every
opportunity for advancement.





JOE THE HOTEL BOY.




CHAPTER I.


OUT IN A STORM.


"What do you think of this storm, Joe?"

"I think it is going to be a heavy one, Ned. I wish we were back home,"
replied Joe Bodley, as he looked at the heavy clouds which overhung Lake
Tandy.

"Do you think we'll catch much rain before we get back?" And Ned, who
was the son of a rich man and well dressed, looked at the new suit of
clothes that he wore.

"I'm afraid we shall, Ned. Those black clouds back of Mount Sam mean
something." "If this new suit gets soaked it will be ruined," grumbled
Ned, and gave a sigh.

"I am sorry for the suit, Ned; but I didn't think it was going to rain
when we started."

"Oh, I am not blaming you, Joe. It looked clear enough this morning.
Can't we get to some sort of shelter before the rain reaches us?"

"We can try."

"Which is the nearest shelter?"

Joe Bodley mused for a moment.

"The nearest that I know of is over at yonder point, Ned. It's an old
hunting lodge that used to belong to the Cameron family. It has been
deserted for several years."

"Then let us row for that place, and be quick about it," said Ned
Talmadge. "I am not going to get wet if I can help it."

As he spoke he took up a pair of oars lying in the big rowboat he and
Joe Bodley occupied. Joe was already rowing and the rich boy joined in,
and the craft was headed for the spot Joe had pointed out.

The lake was one located in the central part of the State of
Pennsylvania. It was perhaps a mile wide and more than that long, and
surrounded by mountains and long ranges of hills. At the lower end of
the lake was a small settlement of scant importance and at the
upper end, where there was a stream of no mean size, was the town of
Riverside. At Riverside were situated several summer hotels and boarding
houses, and also the elegant mansion in which Ned Talmadge resided, with
his parents and his four sisters.

Joe Bodley was as poor as Ned Talmadge was rich, yet the two lads were
quite friendly. Joe knew a good deal about hunting and fishing, and also
knew all about handling boats. They frequently went out together, and
Ned insisted upon paying the poorer boy for all extra services.

Joe's home was located on the side of the mountain which was just now
wrapped in such dark and ominous looking clouds. He lived with Hiram
Bodley, an old man who was a hermit. The home consisted of a cabin of
two rooms, scantily furnished. Hiram Bodley had been a hunter and guide,
but of late years rheumatism had kept him from doing work and Joe was
largely the support of the pair,--taking out pleasure parties for pay
whenever he could, and fishing and hunting in the between times, and
using or selling what was gained thereby.

There was a good deal of a mystery surrounding Joe's parentage. It was
claimed that he was a nephew of Hiram Bodley, and that, after the death
of his mother and sisters, his father had drifted out to California and
then to Australia. What the real truth concerning him was we shall learn
later.

Joe was a boy of twelve, but constant life in the open air had made him
tall and strong and he looked to be several years older.

He had dark eyes and hair, and was much tanned by the sun. The rowboat
had been out a good distance on the lake and a minute before the shore
was gained the large drops of rain began to fall.

"We are going to get wet after all!" cried Ned, chagrined.

"Pull for all you are worth and we'll soon be under the trees," answered
Joe.

They bent to the oars, and a dozen more strokes sent the rowboat under
a clump of pines growing close to the edge of the lake. Just as the boat
struck the bank and Ned leaped out there came a great downpour which
made the surface of Lake Tandy fairly sizzle.

"Run to the lodge, Ned; I'll look after the boat!" shouted Joe.

"But you'll get wet."

"Never mind; run, I tell you!"

Thus admonished, Ned ran for the old hunting lodge, which was situated
about two hundred feet away. Joe remained behind long enough to secure
the rowboat and the oars and then he followed his friend.

Just as one porch of the old lodge was reached there came a flash
of lightning, followed by a clap of thunder that made Ned jump. Then
followed more thunder and lightning, and the rain came down steadily.

"Ugh! I must say I don't like this at all," remarked Ned, as he crouched
in a corner of the shelter. "I hope the lightning doesn't strike this
place."

"We can be thankful that we were not caught out in the middle of the
lake, Ned."

"I agree on that, Joe,--but it doesn't help matters much. Oh, dear me!"
And Ned shrank down, as another blinding flash of lightning lit up the
scene.

It was not a comfortable situation and Joe did not like it any more than
did his friend. But the hermit's boy was accustomed to being out in the
elements, and therefore was not so impressed by what was taking place.

"The rain will fill the boat," said Ned, presently.

"Never mind, we can easily bail her out or turn her over."

"When do you think this storm will stop?"

"In an hour or two, most likely. Such storms never last very long. What
time is it, Ned?"

"Half-past two," answered Ned, after consulting the handsome watch he
carried.

"Then, if it clears in two hours, we'll have plenty of time to get home
before dark."

"I don't care to stay here two hours," grumbled Ned. "It's not a very
inviting place."

"It's better than being out under the trees," answered Joe, cheerfully.
The hermit's boy was always ready to look on the brighter side of
things.

"Oh, of course."

"And we have a fine string of fish, don't forget that, Ned. We were
lucky to get so many before the storm came up."

"Do you want the fish, or are you going to let me take them?"

"I'd like to have one fish. You may take the others."

"Not unless you let me pay for them, Joe."

"Oh, you needn't mind about paying me."

"But I insist," came from Ned. "I won't touch them otherwise."

"All right, you can pay me for what I caught."

"No, I want to pay for all of them. Your time is worth something, and I
know you have to support your--the old hermit now."

"All right, Ned, have your own way. Yes, I admit, I need all the money I
get."

"Is the old hermit very sick?"

"Not so sick, but his rheumatism keeps him from going out hunting or
fishing, so all that work falls to me."

"It's a good deal on your shoulders, Joe."

"I make the best of it, for there is nothing else to do."

"By the way, Joe, you once spoke to me about--well, about yourself,"
went on Ned, after some hesitation. "Did you ever learn anything more?
You need not tell me if you don't care to."

At these words Joe's face clouded for an instant.

"No, I haven't learned a thing more, Ned."

"Then you don't really know if you are the hermit's nephew or not?"

"Oh, I think I am, but I don't know whatever became of my father."

"Does the hermit think he is alive?"

"He doesn't know, and he hasn't any means of finding out."

"Well, if I were you, I'd find out, some way or other."

"I'm going to find out--some day," replied Joe. "But, to tell the truth,
I don't know how to go at it. Uncle Hiram doesn't like to talk about it.
He thinks my father did wrong to go away. I imagine they had a quarrel
over it."

"Has he ever heard from your father since?"

"Not a word."

"Did he write?"

"He didn't know where to write to."

"Humph! It is certainly a mystery, Joe."

"You are right, Ned; and as I said before, I am going to solve it some
time, even if it takes years of work to do it," replied the hermit's
boy.



CHAPTER II.


A MYSTERIOUS CONVERSATION.


The old hunting lodge where the two boys had sought shelter was a
rambling affair, consisting of a square building built of logs, and half
a dozen wings, running to the rear and to one side. There were also two
piazzas, and a shed, where wood had been kept for winter use.

"In another year or two this old lodge will fall down," remarked Ned, as
he gazed around him.

"It must have been a nice place in its day," returned Joe. "What a pity
to let it run down in this fashion."

"The rain is coming around on this side now, Joe; let us shift to the
other."

The hermit's boy was willing, and watching their chance, between the
downpours, they ran around to another portion of the old lodge.

"It certainly is a little better here," observed Joe, as he dashed the
water from his cap.

A minute later the rumbling of the thunder ceased for the time being,
and they heard a murmur of voices coming from one of the rooms of the
lodge.

"Why, somebody must be here!" ejaculated Ned. "Who can it be?"

"Two men, by their voices," answered the hermit's boy. "Wait till I take
a look at them?"

"Why not go in?" questioned the rich youth, carelessly.

"They may not be persons that we would care to meet, Ned. You know there
are some undesirable characters about the lake."

"That's true."

Not far off was a narrow window, the panes of glass of which had long
since been broken out. Moving toward this, Joe peered into the apartment
beyond.

Close to an old fireplace, in which a few sticks of half-green timber
were burning, sat two men. Both were well dressed, and Joe rightfully
surmised that they were from the city. Each wore a hunting outfit and
had a gun, but neither had any game.

"We came on a wild-goose chase," grumbled one, as he stirred the fire.
"Got nothing but a soaking for our pains."

"Never mind, Malone," returned the other, who was evidently the better
educated of the two. "As we had to make ourselves scarce in the city
this was as good a place to come to as any."

"Don't you think they'll look for us here?"

"Why should they? We were sharp enough not to leave any trail behind--at
least, I was."

"Reckon I was just as sharp, Caven."

"You had to be--otherwise you would have been nabbed." Gaff Caven
chuckled to himself. "We outwitted them nicely, I must say. We deserve
credit."

"I've spent more than half of what I got out of the deal," went on Pat
Malone, for such was the full name of one of the speakers.

"I've spent more than that. But never mind, my boy, fortune will favor
us again in the near future."

A crash of thunder drowned out the conversation following, and Joe
hurried back to where he had left Ned.

"Well, have you found out who they are?" demanded the rich youth,
impatiently.

"No, Ned, but I am sure of one thing."

"What is that?"

"They are two bad men."

"What makes you think that?"

"They said something about having to get out of the city, and one spoke
about being nabbed. Evidently they went away to avoid arrest."

At this announcement Ned Talmadge whistled softly to himself.

"Phew! What shall we do about it?" he asked, with a look of concern on
his usually passive face.

Joe shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't know what to do."

"Let us listen to what they have to say. Maybe we'll strike some clew to
what they have been doing."

"Would that be fair--to play the eaves-dropper?"

"Certainly--if they are evildoers. Anybody who has done wrong ought to
be locked up for it," went on Ned boldly.

With caution the two boys made their way to the narrow window, and Ned
looked in as Joe had done. The backs of the two men were still towards
the opening, so the lads were not discovered.

"What is this new game?" they heard the man called Malone ask, after a
peal of thunder had rolled away among the mountains.

"It's the old game of a sick miner with some valuable stocks to sell,"
answered Gaff Caven.

"Have you got the stocks?"

"To be sure--one thousand shares of the Blue Bell Mine, of Montana, said
to be worth exactly fifty thousand dollars."

"Phew! You're flying high, Gaff!" laughed Pat Malone.

"And why not, so long as I sell the stocks?"

"What did they cost you?"

"Well, they didn't cost me fifty thousand dollars," and Gaff Caven
closed one eye suggestively.

"You bet they didn't! More than likely they didn't cost you fifty
dollars."

"What, such elegantly engraved stocks as those?"

"Pooh! I can buy a bushel-basket full of worthless stocks for a dollar,"
came from Pat Malone. "But that isn't here nor there. I go into the deal
if you give me my fair share of the earnings."

"I'll give you one-third, Pat, and that's a fair share, I think."

"Why not make it half?"

"Because I'll do the most of the work. It's no easy matter to find a
victim." And Gaff Caven laughed broadly. He had a good-appearing face,
but his eyes were small and not to be trusted.

"All right, I'll go in for a third then. But how soon is the excitement
to begin?"

"Oh, in a week or so. I've got the advertisements in the papers
already."

"Not in New York?"

"No, it's Philadelphia this time. Perhaps I'll land one of our Quaker
friends."

"Don't be so sure. The Quakers may be slow but they generally know what
they are doing."

More thunder interrupted the conversation at this point, and when it
was resumed the two men talked in such low tones that only an occasional
word could be caught by the two boys.

"They surely must be rascals," remarked Ned, in a whisper. "I'm half of
a mind to have them locked up."

"That's easier said than done," answered Joe. "Besides, we haven't any
positive proofs against them."

The wind was now rising, and it soon blew so furiously that the two boys
were forced to seek the shelter of the woodshed, since they did not
deem it wise to enter the lodge so long as the two men were inside. They
waited in the shed for fully half an hour, when, as suddenly as it had
begun, the storm let up and the sun began to peep forth from between the
scattering clouds.

"Now we can go home if we wish," said Joe. "But for my part, I'd like to
stay and see what those men do, and where they go to."

"Yes, let us stay by all means," answered the rich youth.

They waited a few minutes longer and then Ned suggested that they look
into the window of