Sixth Chapter Street Car Line 177

Emil wished he could run up to the fellow, post himself in front of him, and shout, “Give me my money!” But he didn’t look as though he would answer, “Gladly, my good boy. Here it is. I will surely not do it again.” The affair was not as simple as that. For the moment the most important thing was not to let the man out of his sight.

Emil hid himself behind a tall and ample woman who was walking ahead of him and peered out from behind her, now to the right, now to the left, to make sure that the man was still in sight and not suddenly running off in another direction. Meanwhile the man had reached the main entrance of the station and was looking around him, scanning the crowd as if he were trying to find someone. Emil kept close behind the large lady and came nearer and nearer. What would happen now? Soon he would have to pass the man, and there would be an end to all the secrecy. Perhaps the lady would help him? But she surely would not believe him. And the thief would say, “Pardon me, madame, what gives you such an idea? Do I look as if I had to rob little children?” And then all the people around would look at the boy and cry, “That is the limit! Lies about the grown-ups. Boys to-day are altogether too impudent.” Emil’s teeth were chattering already.

Fortunately, just then the man turned his head away again and stepped out into the open. Quick as a flash Emil jumped behind the door, put down his bag, and peered out of the window grating. Heavens! how his arm ached!

The thief crossed the street slowly, looked backward once more, and then walked on, apparently reassured. Then from the left came a street car and trailer, Number 177, and stopped. The man hesitated a second, stepped into the front car, and seated himself at a window.

Emil grabbed his bag again, ducked past the door, down the corridor, out of another door onto the street and reached the trailer from behind just as the car was starting again. He threw his bag up, climbed after it, shoved it into a corner, placed himself in front of it, and took a deep breath. So that was over!

But what now? If the other got off on the way the money would be gone for good. Because it wouldn’t do to jump off with his bag. That would be too dangerous.

These autos! They rushed past the street car, honked and squeaked, signaled for left turns and right, and swung around corners; other autos pushed right after them. What a jam! And so many people on the sidewalks! And from every side street, cars, delivery carts, double-decker busses! News-stands on every corner. Wonderful show windows with flowers, fruits, books, gold watches, clothes, and silk underwear. And tall, tall buildings.

So that was Berlin.

Emil would have liked to observe it all in peace. But there was no time for that. In the forward car sat a man who had Emil’s money, who might get off at any moment and disappear in the crowd. Then Emil might as well give up. Because out there among the cars and the people and the motor busses you couldn’t find anyone again. Emil stuck his head out. What if the fellow were gone already? Then he alone would be riding on—he didn’t know where, he didn’t know why. And meanwhile his grandmother was waiting at the Friedrich Strasse Station at the flower stall and had no notion that her grandson was careering across Berlin on Line Number 177 and was in great trouble.

It was maddening.

The car stopped for the first time. Emil kept his eyes on the forward car. But no one got off. Just a crowd of new passengers streamed into the car. They tramped past Emil too. One man grumbled because the boy had his head stuck out in the way.

“Don’t you see that people want to get on?” he growled.

The guard who was selling tickets in the car pulled a cord. The bell rang. And the cars went on farther. Emil got back in his corner, was squeezed and had his feet stepped on, and all of a sudden was terrified to think, “I have no money! When the conductor comes back here I’ll have to buy a ticket. And if I can’t buy one he’ll put me off. And then I might as well be buried.”

He looked over the people standing around. Could he twitch one of them by the coat and say, “Please lend me money for my fare”? Oh, dear, they all had such solemn faces. One was reading a paper. A couple of others were talking about a great bank robbery. “They dug a regular tunnel,” one of the men was saying, “and working from that they cleared out all the bank vaults. The loss probably amounted to several millions.”

“It’s almost impossible to determine what was really in the vaults” said the second, “because the people who rent the safety deposit boxes do not have to tell the bank what is locked up in them.”

“Yes, some people would declare that they had diamonds worth a hundred thousand marks when in reality they had only a bunch of worthless paper or a dozen plated spoons.” And both of them chuckled.

“That’s just what will happen to me,” thought Emil sadly. “I will say, ‘Herr Grundeis stole a hundred and forty marks from me’—and nobody will believe me. The thief will say I am just being impudent and it was only three marks and a half! What a nasty fix!”

The conductor was coming nearer and nearer the door. He was already standing in the doorway and calling, “Tickets?”

He tore off long white strips of paper and made rows of holes with a punch. The people on the platform gave him money and got their tickets.

“Now, you?” he questioned the boy.

“I lost my money Mr. Conductor,” answered Emil. Because no one would have believed about the robbery.

“Lost your money? I know that one. And where do you want to go?”

“I—I—don’t know yet,” stammered Emil.

“So? Well, you get off at the next station and find out where you want to go.”

“Oh, no, that won’t do. I must stay here, Mr. Conductor, please.”

“If I tell you to get off, you get off. Understand?”

“Give the youngster a ticket!” said the man who had been reading the paper. He gave money to the conductor. And the conductor gave the ticket to Emil, saying to the man, “If you only knew how many young ones get on here every day with a story of forgetting their money. And then they laugh at us behind our backs.”

“This one won’t laugh at us,” answered the man.

The conductor stepped back inside the car.

“Thank you very, very much,” said Emil.

“Oh, that’s all right!” answered the man and buried himself in his paper again.

Then the cars stopped once more. Emil leaned out to see if the man in the stiff hat got off. But there was nothing to see.

“Might I ask you for your address?” Emil asked the man.

“What for?”

“So I can give you back your money when I get some. I’m staying about a week in Berlin, so I could bring it to you. Tischbein is my name. Emil Tischbein from Neustadt.”

“No,” said the man. “The fare was a present, of course. Do you need anything more?”

“Oh, no, indeed,” exclaimed Emil. “I couldn’t take anything more.”

“All right,” said the man and turned back to his paper again.

And the car went on. And stopped. And went on farther. Emil read the name of the beautiful broad street. Kaiser Avenue, it was. He went on without knowing where he was going. In the other car sat a thief. And perhaps there were other thieves sitting or standing in the car. No one paid any attention to him. To be sure, a stranger had given him a ticket. But now he was just reading his paper again!

The city was so big, and Emil was so small. And no one cared to know why he had no money and why he didn’t know where he had to get off. Four million people lived in Berlin, and not one of them was interested in Emil Tischbein. No one wants to know about other people’s troubles. Everyone is busy about his own cares and joys. And when anyone says, “I’m really sorry about that,” he usually doesn’t mean anything more than, “Oh, leave me alone!”

What was going to happen? Emil swallowed hard and felt very very much alone.