Several hours later, just when it was getting daylight, Jimmy was awakened by hearing a strange noise close to his ear. At first he thought he was dreaming, but when the noise continued—a noise of some one groaning as if in pain—the newsboy sat suddenly up on the pile of bags and looked about him.
A little light came in between the packing box and the side of the factory, and by it Jimmy was startled to perceive that his lodging place had another occupant than himself.
"Hello! Who are youse?" asked Jimmy.
There was no answer save a cry of pain.
"What's de matter?" asked Jimmy again, putting out his hand, for he could not exactly tell whether the dark object was a human being or a big black dog.
"Oh! Oh!" murmured a voice. "My head! My head!"
"Why, it's a kid!" exclaimed Jimmy. "A kid! He must be down on his luck, too, an' crawled in here to bunk. Hey, kid," he went on, "what's de matter wid yer head?"
The new boy gave no answer. Jimmy turned back one of the bags which the stranger had partly pulled up over his shoulders. As he did so a glint of the rising sun struck in between the wall and the edge of the box, lighting up the interior more plainly.
"Why, it's a swell guy!" said Jimmy, as he saw that the boy was very well dressed. "He's got nobby clothes on. I wonder what he's doin' here? Maybe he's run away after readin' dem five-cent weeklies. Crimps! But dis is a go!"
He could now see the stranger distinctly. He was a boy about Jimmy's age, but his clothes were much different from the ragged garments of the newsboy.
"Hey, what's de matter wid youse?" inquired Jimmy, as he saw that the other made no attempt to get up.
"My head! Oh, how it hurts!" murmured the boy. His eyes were closed, and his face was very pale.
Jimmy looked more closely at him. Then, to his surprise, he saw there was quite a cut on the boy's forehead. The blood had dried on it, leaving a red streak on the white skin.
"Crimps! Some bloke swiped him one on de noddle!" cried Jimmy. "A nasty one, fer a fact. He's half dead from it. Wonder how in de woild he ever come here? Maybe dey robbed him an' chucked him in here so de cops wouldn't git on to it. I've got t' do somethin'. Hey, kid," he went on, "can't youse git up?"
The boy murmured something Jimmy could not understand.
"Mebby I'd better tell some one," thought the newsboy. "He might die in here. Den if I do dey may say I done it an' I'll git inter trouble. Crimps! But dis is a queer go!"
Kneeling there in the big packing box beside the injured boy Jimmy rapidly thought over the situation. He was considering, in his own way, what was the best thing to do. Finally he decided.
"I'll doctor him a bit meself first," he murmured. "Dat cut needs washin'. Den mebby he'll rouse up a bit. It's early, an' I guess I can sneak out in de yard an' git some water from de faucet. Dat watchman will be tendin' to de fires now."
Peering cautiously out of the box, Jimmy saw no one in the factory yard. He knew where there was a faucet, near a trough where the horses were watered, and usually there was a pail beside it. He had often made his morning toilet there.
Running to it, he drew some water in the pail, and returning to the box, he shoved the receptacle from the wall and used his hand to wash the blood off the other boy's head as he knelt beside him. At the first touch of the cold water the stranger sat up. His eyes opened in a wondering stare, and he exclaimed:
"Where am I?"
"Where am I?" asked the strange boy. Page 30"Where am I?" asked the strange boy.Page30
"Where am I?" asked the strange boy. Page 30"Where am I?" asked the strange boy.Page30
"Now take it easy, kid," advised Jimmy. "Ye're all right, an' ye're in a safe place—anyway, fer a while yet. Here, take a drink of dis; it'll do youse good."
Hardly realizing what he did, the boy drank from the big pail which Jimmy held up for him. This made the stranger feel much better.
"Where am I?" he repeated. "How did I come here?" and he looked about him in surprise as his eyes took in the narrow quarters of the box.
"Youse kin search me, kid," replied Jimmy frankly. "I come in here t' bunk 'cause some bloke swiped all me chink. When I wakes up I sees youse. First I t'ought youse was a dog, den I heard youse moanin' an' I sees de cut on yer head."
"Oh, my head! It hurts very much'"
"Put some more cold water on it," advised the amateur doctor, and the boy did so.
"How's dat?" asked Jimmy.
"Better. I feel much better. But I can't understand how I came here."
"I can't needer. What's yer name?"
"Name?" repeated the other with a wondering stare.
"Sure. What do de odder kids call youse?"
"Oh! My name is Dick."
"Dick? Dick what? Youse must have two names, same's I have."
"Why, yes, of course I have. My name is Dick—Dick—er—I—I—why!" the new boy exclaimed, trying to get up on his knees, but finding he was too weak. "I—I can't remember what my other name is—it's gone from me—something seems to have happened. I remember my first name is Dick, but I can't think what my last name is. Can't you help me?" and he turned a piteous look on Jimmy.
"Dat's queer!" exclaimed Jimmy. "He's forgot his name! What am I up against?"
"Don't you remember my other name?" begged the boy.
"Me? No. How kin I remember it when I never seen youse before? Don't youse know yer own name?"
"I did, but it's gone from me. All I can remember is that they called me Dick."
"Yes, Dick; but Dick what?"
"I don't know." The sufferer tried hard to think what his other name was, but it was impossible to recollect.
"Can't ye remember anythin' else?" asked Jimmy. "Where'd youse come from?"
"I can't remember that, either. All I know is that I got hit on the head. Then it was all dark, and the next thing I recollect I saw you putting water on my head."
"Dis sure is a queer go," murmured Jimmy. "Here I am wid a kid dat can't even remember his own name, an' me dead broke. Oh, yes, dis is a nice state of affairs!"
For a minute or more Jimmy thought over the situation. He had been in many strange plights, even in his short life, but never had he known such a situation as this was. He hardly knew what to do.
"Where are we?" asked Dick, while he continued to bathe his head with the water.
"We're in a big box, in a factory alley, down by de East River," replied the newsboy. "Dis is me headquarters when I ain't got no coin."
"I think—I'm not sure—but maybe I have a little money," said Dick. "I remember having some. This place is so cramped I can't get my hand in my pocket."
"Lay down an' stretch out on yer back; den ye kin," advised Jimmy. "Dat's what I have t' do. Dis place ain't hardly big enough fer two."
The other lad did so, and when he put his hand in his pocket the musical jingle of change rewarded him.
"Dat's chink, sure enough!" decided the newsboy. "Now how much is it?"
Dick pulled out a handful of coins. With practiced fingers Jimmy counted the money.
"Two dollars an' fourteen cents," he announced. "Dat ain't so bad. Where'd ye git it? What d'ye work at?"
"I don't know. I can't seem to remember. I can't remember anything but that they called me Dick."
"Dat's queer. But we kin fix dat part of it."
"What part?"
"About de name."
"How do you mean? Do you know my other name?"
"No, but youse got t' have one. Everybody has t' have two names. I'll tell youse what I'll do. I'll give youse another name, an' youse kin keep it till youse gits yer own back."
The other boy looked a little doubtful of this proceeding.
"What will you name me?" he asked.
"I'll call youse Dick Box."
"Dick Box? That's a queer name."
"Well, dis is a queer go all around. Youse says yer first name is Dick. Well, I finds youse in a box, so I'll call youse Dick Box. See?"
"I suppose that will do as well as any other name for the present," agreed Dick, "Perhaps I can remember my other name when my head stops hurting."
"Does it hurt yet?"
"Quite a bit."
"Den let's git outer here," proposed Jimmy. "De watchman'll be along in a little while, and he'll kick us out anyhow. I kin take youse t' a hospital, if youse want's t' go. It don't cost nuttin'. I was dere once, when a cab-horse stepped on me foot. Dey treated me out of sight."
"Oh, I don't think my head is bad enough to go to a hospital for," said Dick. "Perhaps, when I get out in the air, it will feel better. It aches now, and I believe I'm hungry."
"Don't say a word. I am too," replied Jimmy. "But I ain't got de price. Here, better take yer chink, before it gits lost," and he handed Dick back the coins.
"Perhaps you'll—I mean—wouldn't you like to go with me and have some breakfast?" proposed Dick. "I'm a stranger here. By the way, what city am I in?"
"Say, does youse mean dat?"
"Mean what?"
"Don't youse know ye're in N'York?"
"New York? Is this New York? No, I had no idea where I was."
"Well, if dis ain't de limit!" exclaimed Jimmy. "It's gittin' wuss instead of better, Dick Box."
"What is?"
"Dis mystery about youse. Say, honest, youse ain't kiddin' me, is ye?"
"Kidding you? You mean fooling you? Of course not! All I know is that I started away from some place—I can't just remember where—and the next thing I knew I was in the box."
"Well, I guess it's straight goods," admitted Jimmy, with a sigh, "but it sure is a queer go. Youse must have come from some swell joint, den."
"What makes you think so?"
"Why, yer clothes is all to de good. Ye're right in de latest style. Didn't nobody kidnap youse, did dey?"
"Not that I know of."
Dick passed his hand over his head with a bewildered air. It was close in the box, and, now that the sun was up, was getting quite warm.
"Come on; let's git outer here, an' den we kin talk better," proposed the newsboy. He peered out, and, seeing that the coast was clear, he crawled out of the box, followed by Dick.
"I guess we kin take a little scrub in me bathroom, an' den we'll git somethin' t' eat," proposed the street lad, as he led the way to the faucet over the horse-trough. Fortunately the watchman was inside the factory turning on the fires ready for the men who would soon arrive.
Jimmy gave himself a vigorous wash, and then said to Dick:
"Now it's your turn."
Dick appeared to hesitate.
"What's de matter?" asked Jimmy. "It ain't very cold. De cook fergot t' make de fire in de range last night, an' dere ain't no hot water. I'll bounce her if she does it ag'in."
"Why, there isn't any—any towel," said Dick.
"Towel? Well, I guess nixy. Pocket hankcheff's good 'nuff fer me. If ye ain't got none ye kin take mine. It's pretty clean."
"No, thank you, I have a handkerchief."
In spite of the fact that Dick had evidently been used to certain luxuries, he made the best of the improvised bathroom. He washed his face and hands, drying them on a handkerchief of fine quality, at the sight of which Jimmy's eyes opened wider than ever.
"He sure is some rich guy," he said to himself. "Dere's somethin' queer about dis. But I'll git t' de bottom of it, er me name ain't Jimmy Small."
"Where's yer hat?" asked Jimmy of Dick when the washing operations were over.
"That's so. I must have had one."
"Maybe it's back in de box. I'll go look."
He came back in a few seconds with a soft hat and placed it on Dick's head. As he did so he uttered a cry of astonishment.
"What's the matter?" asked Dick.
"Say, no wonder yer mind went back on youse. Dere's a lump as big as a baseball on de back of yer cocoanut. Dat's what made youse fergit yer name, I guess."
Dick felt of the back of his head. Sure enough there was a large swelling there, and it was very painful.
"Who done it?" asked Jimmy.
"I can't remember."
"Dat's funny. If some bloke fetched me a swipe like dat you bet I'd remember it. But come on, we'd better be makin' tracks outer her, 'fore de watchman spots us. I don't want him t' disturb me bed. I might need it ag'in."
"Suppose we go and get some breakfast?" proposed Dick.
"I'm broke, I told youse."
"But I have money enough for both of us."
"Goin' t' stand treat?"
"Why not? It would be a small return for what you did for me."
"Aw, dat's nuttin'. Well, den, come on. I knows a good joint where it's cheap. Have a cigarette?"
It was all the newsboy had to offer, and he meant it well, as he held out the box to Dick.
"No, thank you," replied the other lad. "I don't smoke."
"I'll learn ye," proposed Jimmy generously, "It's easy, an' it's lots of sport."
"I don't think I care for it."
"I didn't needer, first. Made me sick. But I got used to it. Well, I'll light up."
"Before breakfast?"
"Sure. Den I won't be so hungry."
"Oh, don't be afraid of your appetite. I guess I have enough for breakfast for the both of us."
"Dat's all right," Jimmy assured him, "but if dat's all ye got, ye can't live long on it. What youse goin' t' do when dat's gone?"
"That's so; I hadn't thought of it. I wonder what I am going to do? It's queer, but I can't seem to remember anything."
"I guess it is queer. But say, don't worry. I'll look after youse until yer memory comes back."
"Suppose it never comes back?"
Dick looked worried. He was trying to recall something about himself, but it was hard work. Try as he did to think, he could recollect nothing but that his name was Dick.
"Well, no use lookin' fer trouble," remarked Jimmy. "Let's go eat, an' den we'll see what's best t' be done."
The two boys, so strangely contrasted, one evidently from a rich home, to judge by his clothes and manner, the other a gamin of the streets, passed out of the factory yard. As they went the watchman saw them.
"Here!" he called. "Where you fellows going?"
"We're goin' out," replied Jimmy. "Why, did youse want us?"
"You young rascals! You'd better go!" cried the man, shaking his first at them. "If I catch you trying to sneak in here again after wood, I'll set the police after you."
"He don't know we've been in dere all night," said Jimmy with a chuckle to his companion. "Oh, I fooled him all right."
Jimmy led the way to a cheap restaurant he knew of, and though Dick shrank back a little, at the sight of the not very clean place, he went in, for he was very hungry. The two boys made a substantial meal, and Dick paid for it.
"How do you feel now?" asked Jimmy.
"A little better, but I'm rather weak; as if I'd been sick for quite a while."
"Youse don't look very well. What youse needs is a place where ye kin lay down. I know what t' do. Come along."
"Where?"
"To de lodgin'-house. I knows a feller what's got a room dere, an' maybe he'll let ye stay in it t'-day when he's out sellin' papes."
"What do you do for a living, Jimmy?"
"Me? Oh, I sell papes, too, when I got de chink t' buy 'em. I've got t' git a stake dis mornin' an' start in. But I'll take youse t' dat room first. Come on."
Dick, walking with rather trembling footsteps, followed Jimmy, who led the way to the Newsboys' Lodging House. He hoped he would be in time to find Frank Merton, for he had decided to appeal to him to take Dick Box in for a few days.
Frank Merton was just coming down the steps of the Newsboys' Lodging House as Jimmy and Dick reached it.
"Hello, Jimmy," greeted Frank.
"Hello," was the answer. "Where youse goin'?"
"To work. I've got a job doing some gardening for a man over in Brooklyn."
"Dat's a good ways off."
"Yes, but it will pay me better than selling papers. He is one of my regular customers, and when he asked me if I knew any one who would do some work around the garden I offered myself. But why aren't you out with your papers, Jimmy?"
"No chink."
"I'll lend you some money."
"Never mind, Frank. I kin get staked easy enough. I'm goin' t' ask annudder favor of youse."
"What is it?"
"Here's a friend of mine, Dick Box, an' he ain't got no place t' stay. He's sick."
"Dick Box? That's a queer name."
"I give him de last name. Found him in me box," and Jimmy told the circumstances of discovering Dick. During this conversation Dick, who was growing quite pale, sat down on the steps of the building.
"What do you want me to do, Jimmy?" asked Frank.
"I t'ought mebby ye'd let him stay in yer room wid youse fer a day or so, till he's strong. Dat blow he got on his cocoanut sort of knocked him out."
"Of course I will. You came at just a lucky time."
"How's dat?"
"Why, I'm going to stay over in Brooklyn for several days. The gentleman I am to work for is going to allow me to sleep in a spare room while I am weeding and fixing up his garden. I will not need my room, and you and Dick can use it just as well as not."
"Say, dat's de stuff!" exclaimed Jimmy. "Dat's all to de merry. Kin he go right up?"
"Yes, here is my key, and I'll explain to Mr. Snowden, the manager. You had better stay with Dick, Jimmy. He doesn't look well."
"I guess he ain't. I'll look out fer him. Say, Frank, ye're a good feller. I'll pay youse back some day."
"I'm not doing this for pay, Jimmy. Perhaps I will be in trouble myself, some time, and I will want help."
"Well, if youse does, jest call on yours truly," said Jimmy earnestly.
Matters were soon explained to the manager, who agreed to let Jimmy and Dick stay in Frank's room during the time he was away. At first Dick insisted on using what little money he had to hire a place, but Jimmy pointed out that, as a strange lad in a big city and sick as he was, he would need all the change he had.
"All right," agreed Dick wearily, for his head was aching greatly.
Frank and Jimmy put him in bed, after he had undressed, and then Frank had to go.
"Perhaps I'd better leave you some money," proposed Frank to Jimmy. "You might have to call a doctor."
"Say, youse must be rich," spoke Jimmy.
"No, but I have a few dollars saved up. You are welcome to some if you need it for Dick."
"Oh, I kin earn plenty, if I once git staked t' some coin fer papes," announced the young newsboy.
"Then let me stake you."
"I have some money left," murmured Dick. "Take that, Jimmy, and buy your papers. I'll not need it."
"Youse can't tell about dat. But I kin double it in a little while, if business is good."
"You had better let me loan you some," proposed Frank.
"No. I'll take his," decided Jimmy. "If he hasn't any room rent t' pay he'll not need any chink right away, an' I'll have some by t'-night. Much obliged, Frank."
"You had better stay here with him to-night," suggested Frank. "The room is big enough for two, and you are welcome to use it."
"T'anks. Mebby I will. But ye'd better skip over t' Brooklyn now, or youse might lose yer job."
"That's so. Do you think he'll be all right?"
"I guess so. He looks pretty sick, though."
"Oh, I'll be all right in a little while," murmured Dick, but the sight of his pale face, with the long red cut on the forehead, did not seem to bear out his words.
However, as Frank could do no particular good, and as he knew he was needed in Brooklyn, he left, bidding the two boys good-by.
"You needn't stay, Jimmy," said Dick. "Take my money, go out, and buy some papers."
"All right. I'm only jest borrowin' it, ye know. I'll pay youse back t'-night."
"That's all right."
Dick spoke in a very faint voice. His face became paler than ever, and his breathing was so strange that Jimmy became alarmed.
"Maybe he's dyin'," he thought. "Guess I'll tell de manager."
The head of the lodging-house came in response to the summons of the newsboy and looked at Dick.
"He ought to have a doctor," Mr. Snowden said. "I'll call in the district doctor."
This was a physician, paid by the city, to look after the poor, and he soon came in and examined Dick.
"The boy is suffering from shock," he said. "He needs rest and quiet, and some simple medicine. He'll be all right in a day or so."
"Will his memory come back?" asked Jimmy.
"I think so—yes. It is only gone temporarily."
He left some medicine for Dick, after giving him the first dose.
"Now I am up against it," remarked Jimmy to the manager, as the physician went away.
"What's the matter?"
"Why, I've got t' stay an' take care of him, an' I don't see how I'm goin' t' sell me papes."
"Oh, that's it, eh? Well, don't let that worry you. I think he'll be all right for a while, and I'll look in every hour or so. You go ahead and sell your papers."
The manager was a kind-hearted man and did all he could to help the boys.
"Dat'll be de stuff!" exclaimed Jimmy. "I'll hustle out, an' git t' work. I'll be nurse t' him t'-night. He's a queer kid, an' I'd like t' find out who he is an' where he come from."
"Probably you will, when he gets better," said the manager. "But you'd better hurry out now, if you expect to sell any extras to-day."
Taking a dollar of Dick's money to buy papers with, Jimmy started off. It was a good day for news, there being a number of sensational happenings and every one seemed to want to read about them. Jimmy sold more papers than he had disposed of before in a long time.
"Guess Dick Box must have brought me luck back t' me," he thought. "All de same, I'd like t' git hold of Mike Conroy an' see if he robbed me."
But the bully kept out of Jimmy's way, or else the latter did not see the youth whom he suspected of picking his pocket.
At noon time, having made a dollar and seven cents profit, Jimmy got some dinner and then hurried to the lodging-house to inquire about Dick, as, already, he felt a strong liking for the boy whom he had befriended.
"He's sleeping quietly," said the manager. "I think he is better. Don't worry about him. I'll look after him the rest of the day and you can take charge at night."
The afternoon was always a good time for Jimmy, as the extras were out then and were in great demand. He took his place at his old corner, determined not to leave it, to give Bulldog or any other of the boys a chance to take it away from him. He made arrangements with a bootblack to go after another supply of papers for him, when he sold out, and thus was able to maintain his place.
Toward the close of the day Bulldog appeared with a big bundle of papers under his arm. He intended to establish himself at Broadway and Barclay Street, but, fortunately, a policeman happened to be standing there when he came up and he dared not drive Jimmy away with the officer looking on.
"Dis is de time I fooled youse!" exclaimed Jimmy, as he shook his fist at Bulldog, behind the policeman's back. "Youse dasn't bodder me now."
"Wait till I catch ye!" threatened Bulldog, as then he moved on up Broadway, calling:
"Wuxtry! Wuxtry!"
Jimmy was soon sold out, and, having made nearly two dollars that day, something very unusual for him, but due to the extraordinary demand for papers, he returned to the lodging-house.
"Well, how is he?" he asked the manager.
"A little better, I think. I was up a while ago and he was asking for you."
"Here's where I play bein' nurse," announced Jimmy with a smile.
He found Dick awake and feeling much better. His head no longer ached.
"Kin youse remember who ye be now?" asked Jimmy.
"Not in the least," replied Dick with a sad smile. "It is as much a mystery as ever."
Jimmy was quite disappointed. He had expected that, when Dick felt better, his memory would return, so that the boy could tell something about himself. Now, evidently, this was not to be.
"How did you make out to-day?" asked the lad in bed.
"Fine! Crimps! But everybody on de street seemed t' want a paper. Have a cigarette? I bought a new pack. Blowed meself on account of me good luck."
"No, I don't smoke. I shouldn't think you would."
"Why not? All de fellers does. It's sporty. Say, here's yer dollar back."
"Don't you need it?"
"Naw. I got plenty now. I'll make more t'-morrow."
"Then keep it to pay for what you have done for me."
"Not much! What d' youse t'ink I am? I'm a friend of yourn, an' I'm takin' care of ye; see?
"Yes, but it costs money."
"Well, when I ain't got none I'll borrow some from youse. Now it's time fer yer medicine."
Dick took it, and soon afterward fell into a heavy doze. Jimmy went out, got some supper, and, returning, stretched out on the floor and was soon asleep.
Dick did not awaken until morning, and, when he saw the lad on the floor, he gave such an exclamation of surprise that Jimmy awoke.
"What's de matter?" he asked. "Feel worse?"
"No. But the idea of you sleeping on the floor, and me taking up the whole bed! It isn't right. Why didn't you wake me up and make me shove over?"
"Aw, I like sleepin' on de floor. It's like bein' in a hotel, after a night in me box. I'm all right. Feel hungry?"
"A little. I am much better than I was."
"T'ink of yer name yet?"
"No," and Dick shook his head, smiling a little sadly. "I can't seem to remember anything," he went on. "Perhaps, when this lump on my head goes down more, I can do better."
"Well, never mind," answered Jimmy cheerfully. "Youse kin have all de time youse wants."
"I wish I could get up, and help you," proposed Dick. "I think I am well enough."
"No, ye don't!" exclaimed Jimmy. "If youse gits up now youse'll have a perhaps, an' den where'll ye be?"
"A 'perhaps'?" repeated Dick, with a puzzled air.
"Yep. What sick folks gits when dey gits up too quick."
"Oh, you mean a relapse."
"Yep. Dat's it. It's de same t'ing. Now de t'ing fer youse t' do is t' lay quiet. I kin make enough money fer both of us, fer a while yet."
"But I want to help."
"Well, maybe when youse gits well I'll take ye in partnership," proposed Jimmy, with an air as if he was a millionaire.
"Will you, really?"
"Mebby. Now don't git all excited. I'll go out an' bring in some breakfust. What'll ye have?"
"I don't feel very hungry. If I could have an orange, and a cup of coffee, I think it would be enough."
"Crimps! Dat's a light meal," said Jimmy. "I'd starve on dat. Beans is de stuff. Dey're terrible fillin'. Most generally I eats beans. Dey's cheap, too."
"I don't think I care for any this morning."
"All right; I'll tell me cook t' prepare youse somethin' light," and Jimmy, with a bright smile at his joke, left the room, having made a hasty toilet, washing at the basin in the room.
He soon returned with an orange cut up, some toast, and a cup of coffee, which he had bought in a near-by restaurant, where he had his own meal. Dick said the things tasted good, and he certainly looked better after the meal.
"Will youse be all right if I goes out t' business?" asked Jimmy, when Dick had finished. "Me private secretary is sick t'-day," he added, "an' I've got t' work meself."
"Don't worry about me," answered Dick. "I can get along well enough. I am feeling better all the while."
"All right," announced Jimmy. "I'll see ye dis noon."
Once more the plucky little newsboy started out. Business was not so good that day, and he only made a dollar and fifteen cents, but that was enough, considering that he had no room rent to pay for the present, and meals, such as he ate, were cheap.
"I wish I'd meet dat feller—let's see—what was his name?" he mused. "Crabtree?—no, dat wasn't it—Cross-patch?—no, dat ain't it needer—Crabapple?—no—Crosscrab?—dat's it. I wish I'd see him. Maybe he'd want some more information, an' he'd pay fer it."
But, though he kept a lookout for the young countryman, Jimmy did not see him as he stood on his favorite corner selling his papers.
He stopped work about six o'clock and went to the lodging-house. He found Dick able to be up and around the room, but a trifle weak on his legs. "I think I'll be able to go out to-morrow," replied the boy, in response to a question from Jimmy as to how he felt.
"Dat's good. De fresh air'll make youse feel better."
Jimmy was puzzled about what to do. He knew Dick must have come from some well-to-do home, and he suspected that he had either been kidnapped or, perhaps, had wandered away and been hurt, thus forgetting where he lived.
"I s'pose I ought t' tell a cop," thought Jimmy to himself that night after Dick was asleep. "Maybe dere's an alarm been sent out fer him an' his folks is lookin' fer him. Dat's what I'll do. I'll tell a cop."
Dick was not quite so strong the next morning as he thought he would be, but, aside from a little uncertain feeling on his legs, he was all right. That is, not considering his memory, which was as much a blank as when he had awakened to find himself in the box.
"Wait till this afternoon, an' I'll go out wid youse," proposed Jimmy. "I'm too busy t' look after ye dis mornin'."
The truth was he did not want Dick to go out and perhaps get lost again before there was a chance to notify the police, which Jimmy had decided to do. If he could keep Dick in that morning, he would find a certain policeman, with whom he had a slight acquaintance, and tell him the facts.
With this in mind Jimmy set out from the lodging-house, having made Dick promise not to go away or try to walk in the streets until after dinner.
Jimmy bought his stock of papers and was selling them on his usual corner, at the same time keeping watch for the policeman whom he knew and to whom he intended to speak. While thus engaged he was approached by Sam Schmidt, a German newsboy, who was on his way to get a new stock of journals, having sold out.
"Hello, Schmidty!" exclaimed Jimmy. "Seen Hennessy dis mornin'?"
Hennessy was the policeman on that beat.
"Nope. I ain't seed nottings of him. Vot's der matter? You vos going to have someboddies arrested yet? Hey?"
"No, not dis time, Dutchy. I want t' ask him some questions."
"Vot about? Vos you in droubles alretty yet?"
"Me? Naw. But anodder kid is."
"So? Vot it is?"
Jimmy thought it might be a good plan to get the advice of some one on Dick's case. He had told neither the lodging-house manager nor the physician all the facts in the matter, and all they knew was that Dick was a friend of his who had been hurt and could not remember how it happened. So he explained the situation to Sam Schmidt.
"Now what would youse do, in my place?" asked Jimmy.
"Vell," replied the German slowly, "I dinks I vould do nottings."
"Do nuttin'? Say, what good is dat?"
"Vell, it dis vay," went on Sam. "Dot feller has goot clothes, you say?"
"Sure he has."
"Den his folks is rich. Ain't it?"
"I s'pose so."
"Vell, den, maybe dey'll offer a rewards for him. Eh? If you turns him over to der bolice, der bolice vill git der rewards. Ain't it?"
"Dat's so. I never t'ought of dat."
"Sure," went on Sam. "Now yust you lay low und you sees vot happens alretty yet."
"Dat's a good idea, Sam," agreed Jimmy. "I'll say nuttin' fer a few days. I ain't much stuck on de cops, anyhow. Dey might ask me too many questions. I'll keep mum fer a few days and see what happens. But how will I know if dere's a reward offered?"
"Vhy, it'll be in der babers. Vun't it?"
"Dat's so. But I can't read, Dutchy."
"So? Dot's bad. Den I tell you vot ve do. I'll keep my vedder eyes vide opens und ven I sees der rewards notice I'll tell you. Eh? How's dot?"
"Fine! I'll give you some of the money, Dutchy, if I git any."
"Dot's nice. Vell, I got t' go me after some more babers. I hopes you gits der big rewards. Likely as not he vos a rich feller und his fader'll pay big money t' git him back. Yust you lays low und said nottings."
"I will, Dutchy. Here ye're, sir! Wuxtry! Full account of de big murder! Wuxtry! Wuxtry!" cried the newsboy, as he saw some possible customers approaching.
Thus Jimmy thought matters over and decided to keep silent regarding Dick. He could not foresee the effect of it, nor what a strange result was to come from his finding of the boy in the box.
When Jimmy went to the lodging-house that noon, he found Dick ready to go out.
"Feelin' all right?" asked the newsboy.
"Very fine indeed, thank you. My head doesn't hurt at all and I think a walk would do me good. Can't I go around with you when you sell papers? I'd like to learn part of the business now, for I'll have to do something for a living, and I don't believe I could do much of anything else."
"Does youse really mean dat?" asked Jimmy suddenly, as a new scheme came into his head.
"Surely. Why not?"
"I didn't s'pose a swell-dressed chap like youse would want t' sell papes."
"I'm afraid I'll not be well dressed very long. Sleeping in that box did not improve my clothes, and, as I haven't any more, I'll have to do something to earn money to buy others. No, indeed, I'd be only too glad if I could sell papers as well as you can."
"Oh, dere's lots of fellers what beats me at it, but den dey has regular stands. Dat's de way t' do it. Have a regular stand somewheres an' customers comes t' youse. Dat's de way t' make money."
"Then why don't you do that way?" asked Dick Box.
"I ain't got de cash t' start in. It takes de coin, an' I has t' spend all I makes t' live on. At dat I ain't livin' very swell—sleepin' in a box. Course it's better since Frank let us have dis room, but he'll be back t'-morror. We'll have t' light out den."
"But you have earned some money in the last few days, haven't you? And with what little I have we can hire a room. The rent is not very high, is it?"
"Nope. Dollar an' a quarter a week fer dis Frank pays. But I didn't s'pose youse 'ud want t' do it."
"Do what?"
"Bunk in wid a chap like me."
"I don't see why not," replied Dick sturdily. "After what you did for me I'm not going to lose sight of you so soon as that. I'll be only too glad to bunk in with you. In fact, you are the only person I know."
"Can't youse t'ink anyt'ing about yerself—what yer name is an' where ye come from?" asked Jimmy eagerly, for he had in mind the possible reward and he wanted to get a clue as to who Dick's folks might be.
"Not a thing," replied the other, shaking his head a little sadly. "I think I had a good home once, for I have a dim recollection of a big house with lots of ground around it. And I remember a man and a woman who were kind to me. But that's all I can remember, try as hard as I can. It seems as if it was many years ago."
Jimmy shook his head in doubt.
"Dem kind of tips ain't goin' t' be any good t' me," he mused. "I'll have t' depend on Dutchy. If he sees anyt'ing in de papes about a reward he'll tell me. Den, maybe I kin take Dick dere an' git money enough t' buy a newspaper stand. Dat sure would be all to de merry."
"But aren't you going out?" asked Dick, after a pause, during which he had racked his brain to try and remember more about himself.
"Sure, if youse wants t'," replied Jimmy. "Come on an' we'll have grub. Den it'll be time fer de afternoon extras. I hope business is better dan it was yist'day."
The two boys ate in a restaurant near the lodging-house. Dick's appetite was good, and though the food was coarse and not served in very nice style, he ate heartily.
"Don't you like pie?" he asked Jimmy, toward the close of the meal.
"Betcherlife I do."
"Why don't you have some, then?"
"Say, if we is goin' t' hire a room, regular, an' pay rent we can't have pie," replied the newsboy, "dat is except when ye makes a lot extra. Pie is too high livin' fer de likes of newsies."
"Well, suppose we have some to-day," proposed Dick. "I will stand treat this time."
"Dat's good," answered Jimmy gratefully. "I kin eat it all right, but I was goin' slow on de coin."
"I guess you will have to teach me how to use money," went on Dick, as the waiter brought two pieces of pie. "I never earned any in my life, that I can remember, though I used to spend considerable. I'll have to learn business ways now."
"Oh, youse'll learn fast enough," said Jimmy. "It ain't hard not t' spend cash when ye ain't got it, an' dat, mostly, is de complaint I suffer from. I seen me doctor about it, but he said I'd have t' have a change of climate. I kin see meself gittin' dat. But come on. De extras is out now."
Dick followed Jimmy to Newspaper Row, where the latter secured a big bundle of papers from one of the many delivery wagons that were backed up to the curb. Then the newsboy started for his regular stand, getting there just a little ahead of Bulldog.
"Dis is de time I fooled yer," said Jimmy in triumph. "Wuxtry! Wuxtry!" he shouted. "Git de latest wuxtry!"
Bulldog moved off with a sullen look, glancing at Dick as he did so.
"Wonder where Bricks picked up dat kid?" he thought.
Meanwhile Dick was watching with interest the manner in which Jimmy disposed of his papers. Business seemed to be good, as there was quite a crowd in the street, and many persons bought the extras.
"Can't I help you?" he asked Jimmy, during a lull in the stream of pedestrians.
"How d'ye mean?"
"Why, sell papers. Can't I take some and go up and down the street? I think I could sell some."
"Sure ye might," replied Jimmy, glad of the offer. "Here, take a bunch. But ye got t' holler loud, or de men won't notice ye. Shout out dat dere's a big fire or some terrible accident."
"Is there? I didn't see anything in the papers about it."
"Course dere ain't, but de men won't know till after dey has paid fer de paper."
"But that's saying what isn't so."
"Aw, what's de odds? We all does it, an' de men knows we does it, so dey ain't fooled."
"I don't like to do that," objected Dick. "I think a better way would be to look over the papers, see what the principal articles are about, and call them out."
"Aw, dat way wouldn't be no good. What de public wants is t' read about a big fire or a murder or a suicide. Dat's what I allers yells out. Anyhow, I can't tell what's in de papes."
"You can't? Why not?"
"'Cause I can't read."
Dick did not pursue his inquiries any further, as he did not want to hurt Jimmy's feelings.
"Well," he said, "give me some papers and I'll do my best to sell them. But," he added, with a smile, "I'm not going to say there's a murder if there isn't."
"Den youse'll not sell any papes."
Dick took an armful of the journals and started down Broadway. He knew a little of the run of the streets in that section, as Jimmy had told him about them, and he knew he would soon be in the financial district, where the brokers and bankers had their offices.
In spite of his recent accident, and his trouble over forgetting who he was, Dick had a good head for business, even though it was the first time he had tried to sell newspapers. He decided to look over the front pages and learn just what were the principal items of news. He had not forgotten how to read and write, though many other things had slipped from his recollection.
He saw there was a long article concerning a big bank failure, and another about an important notice sent out by the United States Treasurer.
"Those ought to interest the bankers and business men more than murders and fires," thought Dick. "I guess I'll call out about those."
He was, naturally, a little bashful about shouting as did the other newsboys, but he made up his mind that, as he was thrown on his own resources by a queer trick of fate, he must do his best to earn a living.
"Here goes," he said, as he approached a group of well-dressed men standing at Broadway and Cortlandt Street.
"Excuse me," he began, in a clear but not very loud voice, as he stood near the men, "but would any of you gentlemen like to buy the latest extra? It has an account of the failure of the Morrisville Trust Company and a decision of the United States Treasurer on gold shipments. Besides, there is all the latest news."
Probably no regular newsboy in all the big city of New York would have thought to try that means of selling papers. All they did was to shout: "Wuxtry! Wuxtry!" or "Fire! Murder! Suicide!"
"Hello! What's this?" exclaimed one of the gentlemen, turning around and beholding Dick. "What sort of a newsboy is this, who doesn't shout his head off at you?"
"What did you say about the Morrisville Trust Company?" asked another gentleman nervously.
"It has failed. Here is a full account of it," and Dick showed the paper with the story on the front page, under a big, black heading.
"Great Scott!" exclaimed the man who had asked the question. "That's bad for me. Here! Give me a paper."
He fairly snatched one from Dick, and tendered him a nickel.
"Give me one, too," requested another of the group. "I want to read about that gold statement."
"I'll have one also," added a third man, and soon every one had purchased a paper.
"Here is your change," said Dick to the one who had given him the five-cent piece.
"Keep it!" exclaimed the man, not lifting his eyes from the sheet.
Jimmy had told Dick that customers were often thus generous, so the new newsboy felt it was all right to keep the four cents. As he walked away he heard one man say to another:
"That's an intelligent way of selling papers. I wonder why most of the boys think they have to yell themselves hoarse about a fire or a murder? This is the most important news of the day, but it's the first time I heard one of the boys mention it."
"You're right," said another. "That lad looks as if he was fitted for something better than selling papers."
Then the men began to read the news, and Dick, glad to hear that his method was thus approved, moved on toward Wall Street. He found many newsboys in that district, but he kept to the plan he had made, and in much less time than he expected he had sold all his papers and started back to Jimmy for more.
"Youse don't mean t' tell me youse is sold out?" exclaimed his friend as Dick approached.
"Yes, and I didn't have to yell 'Fire' or 'Murder' once."
"Well, dat gits me!" murmured Jimmy in great astonishment.