University of Virginia Library

7. CHAPTER VII.
THE DISGUISE.

Notwithstanding we were very diligent,
employing every moment, it was
late in the day ere we were ready
to set out on our journey. By this
time, however, every thing was prepared;
and having donned a plain suit,
and packed our more costly wearing apparel
in our trunks, which we consigned
to the care of our landlord; and having
procured a couple of pedler's boxes for
jewelry, and laid in a tolerably fair
stock for trade or show, which we
gave in charge of Tom, together with a
well-filled valise of clothing necessary
to a change; we procured a conveyance
to a small village on the mainland,
which we reached just as the setting sun
was streaming across Galveston Bay,
and turning its waters to gold. We
drove to the principal inn of the village,
ordered supper, and put up for the
night.

“To-morrow,” said Harley, gaily, as
together we sat at the tea-table: “To-morrow,
Harry, we begin our adventures
in reality; at least we begin a new
business; and I am as impatient to
be on the road, as ever a child was to see
new toys. By my faith, Harry, I sometimes
think we are as much children at
five-and-twenty as at five—the only difference
being, that we are older, and
larger, and require bigger play-things. I
wonder what kind of a salesman I shall
make. Faith! I see myself at it now,
`Some very extra fine jewelry, madam,
—earrings, brooches, chains, finger rings
—very beautiful, I assure you—will
you have the goodness to look at them!
Ha, ha, ha! what do you think of
that, Harry, eh! for a commencement?
Come, a wager! a wager! if
you dare!”

“Name it.”

“A week's keeping on the road,
that I beat you in to-morrow's profits?”

“Done,” returned I, laughing at the
idea that already we were beginning to
be ambitious to excel in our new vocation.
“But, Morton, you will not forget
Viola? Remember that profit is less
an object with us than speed in our
search.”

“Ay, true; but I do not forget that.
It may be necessary, in order to succeed
in our design, that we understand the
business we profess, and practice alone
will make us perfect. Nor is speed so
very important as you might at first
thought suppose; for they will not use
force with Viola—they dare not; and,
without force, she will not wed: no,
Harry, nor can she be forced to wed
him; she says so much in her letter;
and I know her well enough,
to feel assured she will keep her word.
But still there must be no unnecessary
delay; and could my design be accomplished
without the means I am about to
use—could it in fact be accomplished by
speed merely—I would mount the fastest
horse in the country, and ride as if
for life. Do not think, Harry, because
I seem indifferent, that I am not impatient
to see her; but my experience in
life, has taught me the value of prudence;
and now that I am about to do
battle for a great stake, I feel the need
of having all my weapons about me and
in good order. Speaking of weapons—
do not let us forget, when we retire, to
put our revolvers in proper order—for
one never knows, in this country, how

soon he may want to use them. Yes,
Harry, I have a plan—not fully matured,
it is true—but when it is, I will
make it known to you, by which I hope
to outwit two cunning knaves, and steal
the greatest prize our earth contains.
If I do succeed, and you ever write
that book you were speaking of, I
bespeak a prominent place in it for
my chef d' œuvre of stratagem. By-the-bye,
I believe you do not speak
French?”

“No.”

“I am sorry for that. But then—stop!
let me see!—yes, that will do as well;
you can be a Yankee.”

“I do not understand to what you allude.”

“You will in good time, never fear;”
and Harley relapsed into a reverie, and
did not speak again for five minutes,
notwithstanding I asked him several
questions meantime. His first words
were: “But how to dispose of Tom!
for he must go with us.”

“Oh, Tom will take care of himself;
he is easily satisfied,” I replied.

“You do not understand me, Harry.
Umean in what capacity he is to travel
with us: for if as a servant, will people
not think it singular that—”

“Not at all,” I interrupted; “or if
they do, what of it? We may be pedlers,
but it does not follow, you know,
we must be poor; and why not have a
black to carry our boxes? Some may
think us a little too aristocratic for
our profession; but that will do us no
harm.”

“Well, perhaps you are right—consider
it settled so at all events,” replied
Harley. “And now, Harry, let us retire
to our room. Or, by-the-bye, I
wish you would make inquiry concerning
that carriage; and if you can find
out which course it went from here,
I think we shall have no great difficulty
in tracing it home.”

It was perhaps an hour later, that I
repaired to the apartment assigned us
for the night. The door was locked. I
rapped several times, but receiving no
answer, I came to the conclusion that
Harley had stepped out, and taken the
key with him. And I was further con
firmed in this belief, when, on inquiring
at the bar, I was told that my friend had
gone up stairs about an hour since, and
that some one, no doubt himself, had
come down and gone out within a
few minutes. I seated myself and took
up a newspaper to while away the time
till his return. I was just in the middle
of a vituperative article on Mexico,
in which the writer boldly prophesied
the consequences to that distracted
country, should she dare to go to war
with the greatest Nation in the world—
that is to say, the Yankee Nation,
—when, chancing to turn my head
a little, I became aware that some
one was looking over my shoulder; and
another glance showed me that the new
comer was a stranger. Indignant at
such vulgar rudeness, I started to my
feet, and confronted him with:

“Well, sir, what is it?”

He seemed astonished and alarmed,
and instantly stammered out:

“Pardonnez moi! I want nothing.
I was just look at de papeer: vairee
sorree I was deesturb monsieur.”

I looked him full in the eye, as
he spoke, and became satisfied, from its
contrite expression, he had erred through
ignorance rather than design. He was
a young man, apparently under thirty,
though his face, lips, and chin were so
covered with a black, matted beard, that
it was difficult to fix upon his age with
any degree of certainty. His skin was
as dark as that of a Spaniard; and long,
black, matted hair fell down around his
shoulders, and completely hid his neck.
His eyes were light, I noticed, and had
an intelligent expression; and his dress
I did not fail to perceive was something
like my own. He seemed so penitent
for having disturbed me, as he expressed
it, that I felt my anger vanish in a moment;
but still I thought it best not
to appear too easily pacified.

“You are a Frenchman, I perceive?”
I said.

“Oui, monsieur, at your sarvais.”

“The French,” I rejoined, “are considered
a very polite people; how is it
that, being one of them, you could be so
rude as to look over a gentleman's
shoulder while he was reading?”

“Ten million pardone, monsieur! I
was forgeet. I was look at ze papeer,
to geet ze nam'. I do zo not ageen,
I do assure. I not would mak' my
contree asham'—but I av not mooch
breed a la mode. I was a poor pedleer.”

“Ah! so you are a pedler?” returned
I, suddenly becoming much interested
in my brother chip. “Sit
down! never mind what is past: I was a
little hasty.”

The sudden change in my manner,
seemed to make my new acquaintance
rather suspicious; for he eyed me curiously;
and though he so far complied
with my request as to seat himself, yet
he managed to leave quite a space
between us; and I observed he put his
hands in his pockets, as if he feared I
might, by some hocus pocus, abstract his
money without his knowledge. In
order to reassure him, I informed him
that I was on the point of adopting his
vocation.

“You, monsieur?” he exclaimed;
“you was become one pedleer? By
gar! I was so mooch astonish nevare. I
shall shook your hand off;” and faith
I thought he would; for he squeezed
and shook it for something less than
five minutes: in fact, until I withdrew it,
and begged him to reseat himself. “I
was so mooch happee, I forgeet,” he
said by way of apology.

“What do you sell?” I inquired.

“Jewelry, and sooch tings.”

“Jewelry, eh? Why, then, we are
both in the same line.”

“You sell him, eh? ha! By gar! I
was like to shook you hand ageen,
for say zo. But no—I do him not—I
might forgeet ze leetle stop.”

“Which way are you travelling?” I
inquired.

“I was just come from Galveston: I
was for to try ze contree up to Brazos
riviere.”

“Ever been this route?”

“Nevare. I was coome from Nouvelle
Orleon on ze boat, one, two day
gone by.”

“Where do you put up for the
night?”

“In zis hotel with monsieur.”

“Hum! yes. How do you carry
your jewelry?”

“In one leetle box, with strop, so—
under de arm.”

“Where is your box?”

“Up stair. Will monsieur look at
him?”

“With pleasure,” I answered.

“Will monsieur geet ze light? I show
him with mooch delight.”

I procured the light, and we went up
stairs. To my surprise, the Frenchman
stopped at my door; and taking a
key from his pocket, applied it to the
lock.

“Not here,” I said; “you have
made a mistake; this is my room.”

The Frenchman looked at the number,
and replied, with a shrug:

“If meestake, monsieur was mak'
him: zis be my lodging, where I keep
ze box: Ze key say zo—see!” and
with the last word, he threw open the
door, adding: “Will monsieur step in,
please?”

I went in, looked all around, and assured
myself I was not mistaken. It was
my apartment; and there before me,
proof positive, were my box and Harley's.

“Well,” I said, rather sternly, “are
you satisfied now? I told you it was my
room before you entered it; now I trust
you are convinced.”

“But I say zis be my lodging,”
replied the other; “and see! dare was
my varee box;” and going up to
one, he commenced fumbling at the key
hole.

I was never a person to be trifled
wtih; and suddenly becoming indignant,—for
I felt my new acquaintance
was presuming on my good nature,—I
seized him by the collar, dragged him
back from the box, and exclaimed:

“Sir! what do you mean by persisting
in this foolery? Begone! leave the
room instantly, or I will throw you
down stairs!”

“Why, Harry, you needn't work
yourself into such a passion about nothing;
I suppose I have a right here as
well as you;—and that box is mine,”
said my French acquaintance, in the
voice of Morton Harley.

I never was so thunderstruck in my
life; I was perfectly dumb with amazement;
and for nearly a minute I stood
speechless, gazing upon the person
before me, but almost doubting still
it could be Harley.

“Is it you, Morton?” I inquired, at
length.

“Well, Harry, it's nobody else,” he
answered, in a phrase peculiar to the
West; “and if you longer doubt, see
here;” and he forthwith removed his
wig, whiskers, and moustaches, and
stood before me Morton Harley indeed,
but with his skin discolored by the
liquid he had used, to change his complexion.

“What shall it be?” I inquired; “I
see I am in for it again.”

“Oh, never mind the wine this time,
Harry. I forgive you a little rough
usage, and some harsh words, and you
must forgive me the joke. In fact,
Harry, it was not intended for a joke;
but the most serious earnest; and on
its success depended the prosecution
of my design. Do you comprehend
me?”

“I think I do. But tell me; where
and when did you procure this disguise?”

“It was made for me some years ago,
and first used while at college, to steal a
march on the Faculty. It has been
lying in my trunk; but I never shewed
it to you, for the reason that I wished
first to test its virtue, and have some
harmless fun at your expense. Henceforth,
with Heaven's aid, I dedicate it to
a service of momentous importance! I
shall not fail to deceive them—eh! Harry?”

“You could deceive your own mother:
I never saw an illusion so real.”

“Ha! ha! I could now shout for joy.
Let them have a care! let them have a
care! But the carriage. Harry—you
made the inquiry?”

“Yes!”

“Well?”

“At first I could get no trace of it—
could find no one who had seen it; but
at last I met a stable-boy, leading a
horse, who assured me such a carriage
had passed him about a mile from here,
on the road running Northward.”

“Bravo! As Bulwer says, `the night
is passing.' Oh, that I knew the future!
Come, Harry, let us turn in—
for we must be up betimes. Remember
the wager!”

“I hope to take some pleasure in reminding
you of it to-morrow eve,” I replied.

That night I had confused dreams of
distressed damsels and French pedlers.