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Updated: May 20, 2025
"But first I want to shake hands with Miss Vaughan." "You have met Mr. Goldberger, Miss Vaughan," I said, as he came forward, "but Dr. Hinman didn't tell you that he's the cleverest coroner in greater New York." "He doesn't really think so, Miss Vaughan," Goldberger laughed. "You ought to read some of the things he's written about me!
Her parents were respected, God-fearing people. They never knew that she that she took up the life she led with Hinman. Don't interrupt me, Bingle. If I don't get it out now, I'll never have the courage to try it again. No man was ever in such a desperate plight as I find myself in to-day. I'll come straight to the point. I am the man called Hinman and this child you've got here with you is mine."
Hinman pursued their journey the following spring, and, after a toilsome march, attended by no further startling incidents, reached their destination in Oregon. There in their new home, which Mrs. H , by her industry and watchfulness, contributed so largely to make, they found ample scope for the exercise of those qualities which they had proved themselves to possess.
Only the day before, stopping at a postoffice on the route, as had been arranged with Dr. Hewitt, Dick & Co. had received word that the peddler was seriously ill with pneumonia, with all the chances against his recovery. "If the peddler should die," suggested Dave soberly, "do you believe that Timmy Hinman will be able to face the thought of going to work for a living?"
"I won't give way again, I promise you." "You have had a great deal to bear," I protested, taking her hand in mine. "I think you have been very brave. I only hope that I can be of some service to you." "Thank you. I am sure you can. Let us all sit down, for we must have quite a talk. Dr. Hinman tells me that I shall need a lawyer." "Undoubtedly," I assented.
Old Reuben Hinman lingered many days between life and death. At last he recovered, and in time was discharged from the hospital. However, his first attempts to run the peddler's wagon again revealed the fact that the peddler's days on the road were over. He was no longer strong enough for the hard outdoor life.
Hinman and rubbed him down, then rolled him in dry blankets and laid him on another cot not far from the stove. "Come out, you other hoboes," called the boss tramp's voice. "Come and help us right the peddler's wagon and bring that and the horse up here." The other two tramps went reluctantly out into the storm. A bottle full of hot water, wrapped in a towel, was placed at the peddler's feet.
Timothy Hinman, looking wholly the man of fashion, made this offer. He had come up behind the group, and there was a look in his eyes which seemed to say that the handling of some of the family money would not be distasteful to him just then. "I'll walk along with you to your office, Mr. Stark, and receipt for the money, if you're headed that way," suggested the younger Hinman again.
"I'll never forget the younger Hinman's disgusted look when he tried to drive the outfit from our camp, the other morning, with his saddle mount tied behind and balking on the halter," grinned Darry. "I wonder why such fellows as Timothy Hinman were ever created," Tom went on. "Every time I think about the gentlemanly Timmy I feel as though I wanted to kick something."
In the meantime the tramps got the wagon into a sheltered position, then staked the horse out close to the place where the Gridley horse was tethered. This having been accomplished, they came back to the camp, to find a new aroma on the air. "That stuff smells good. What is it?" asked the boss tramp. "Ginger tea. We've made some to give to Mr. Hinman."
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