"Didn't youse run away from home?" Page 137"Didn't youse run away from home?"Page137
"Didn't youse run away from home?" Page 137"Didn't youse run away from home?"Page137
When Jimmy started for the room, late that afternoon, after having met Dick and arranging to go to supper with him, he was accosted, just before he reached the lodging-house, by Mike Conroy. Now, though Jimmy suspected Mike of having robbed him, and though he considered him his enemy, Jimmy was a whole-souled, good-hearted lad, not long holding enmity against any one. So, when Mike greeted him pleasantly enough, Jimmy responded in kind.
"Heard youse was lookin' fer a news-stand t' buy," said Mike.
"We was," replied Jimmy, "but it was too steep for us."
"I know a feller what's got one t' sell cheap."
"Where?"
"Over in Brooklyn.
"I don't believe we'd like to go to Brooklyn. New York is the best place for a newspaper stand. You can make more money here."
"No, I mean de feller what owns it lives in Brooklyn. De stand is in New York, close t' de elevated."
"How much does he want for it?"
"About seventy-five dollars."
This was so near the figure that he and Dick could command that Jimmy was at once interested.
"What's the man's address?" he asked.
"I'll take youse t' him," volunteered Mike. "He said he'd pay me a commission if I brought him a customer, an' I'll bring youse."
"All right. I'll go. But I must leave word for Dick where I'm gone."
"Oh, youse needn't bodder about dat. We'll soon be back," said Mike quickly. "Come on."
So, thinking he would return almost as soon as his partner reached the room, Jimmy went away with Mike. They crossed the bridge in the cars, Mike generously paying the fares, and, once on the Brooklyn side, Mike led the way to a trolley. They rode for some time, and finally Jimmy exclaimed:
"I thought you said it was only a little ways. We're out in the country now."
"We're most there," declared Mike quickly. "It's only a few minutes now," and he began to talk rapidly, telling Jimmy a number of stories of New York life, and so keeping his companion interested to that extent that Jimmy did not notice how far they had come.
"We'll git out here," said Mike, at length.
"Say, this is the country for fair," exclaimed Jimmy, as he found himself in the midst of open fields with only a few houses here and there. "This feller must want to get a good ways off from his work."
"He does. It's jest a short walk now."
It was getting dusk and Jimmy was beginning to think Dick would get tired of waiting for him. He began to wish he had left some word, or else that he had not gone with Mike. The latter led the way across the fields, toward a house.
"Look out!" suddenly exclaimed Jimmy's companion. The boy turned his head, and the next instant he felt one of Mike's arms encircle his neck, while with the other hand Mike held Jimmy's wrists in a firm grip. Then, before Jimmy knew what was happening, Mike took his arm from his neck and plunged that hand into Jimmy's pocket where the newsboy kept his money. He was robbing Jimmy.
"Here! Let up! Quit that! Police!" cried the smaller boy, struggling to free himself. But Mike was too strong for him, and, in that lonely place, there were no officers. It was growing quite dark and no help was in sight.
Suddenly Mike withdrew his hand from Jimmy's pocket, bringing out with it all the money. Then, giving the smaller lad a push that sent him stumbling to the ground, Mike turned and ran away, making for the distant trolley line.
"Now youse kin walk home, Bricks!" he called. "Youse'll git dere by t'-morror mornin'."
"Give me back my money!" shouted Jimmy, scrambling to his feet.
Mike, with a mocking laugh, raced on. He was too swift a runner for Jimmy, but the smaller boy pluckily kept after him. Mike had a good lead, and a little later he reached the trolley line and jumped aboard a passing car, which soon took him out of sight.
"Well, if that ain't a mean trick!" exclaimed Jimmy, pausing when he saw it was useless to run farther. "He brought me out here to rob me. I wonder what he did that for? There's lots of places in New York. I wonder——" then a sudden thought came to him.
"Dick!" he exclaimed. "Maybe they're going to do something to him and they wanted to get me out of the way. That's it! They're up to some trick, Mike and Bulldog, I'll bet anything! And me many miles from New York and not a cent of car fare!" he added ruefully, as he felt in all his pockets. Mike had done his part well and had taken every cent Jimmy had.
For a time the boy did not know what to do. He realized that he must hurry back to the lodging-house, but how to reach there was another question. He thought of getting on a trolley car, telling the conductor his plight, and asking for free transportation. Then there was his fare to pay across the bridge, though, of course, he could walk. For that matter he could tramp the entire distance, but it would take him quite a while; and, meanwhile, what might happen to Dick? He felt rather dubious about asking the trolley car conductor to trust him. Probably the man would not believe his story.
"I certainly am up against it good and hard!" said Jimmy to himself.
Rapidly he considered matters. Then, as he saw a light shining from a distant house, he made up his mind to ask for help. He thought over what he had better say, and then, determining to be bold, as the case demanded, he rang the bell and asked for the loan of ten cents, as that was all he needed to get home.
"I'll leave you my watch for security," went on Jimmy, after he had explained to the lady some of the circumstances of the case. "It's only a dollar one, but it's new and it keeps good time."
Fortunately Jimmy had approached a kind woman, who had a boy of her own, and she not only loaned him the ten cents, but fifteen more, giving him a quarter. Nor would she take the watch as security. Jimmy promised to return the money the next day, and then, profuse in his thanks, he hurried for the trolley and caught a car for Brooklyn Bridge.
Arriving at the lodging-house he hurried to the apartment. His worst fears were realized. Dick was gone, and, from the appearance of the room, he had left in a hurry, for his things were scattered around.
"They've got him!" exclaimed Jimmy in despair. "Guess I'd better tell the police."
He questioned Mr. Snowden, but the manager had not seen Dick depart with Bulldog. Nor was he inclined to think that anything had occurred. He suggested that Dick had gone out to take a walk, but Jimmy felt that something had happened.
He went out into the street, hardly knowing what to do, but trying to make up his mind to some plan of action. He saw Sam Schmidt, and, more because he could think of no one else to appeal to than because he hoped for news, he asked:
"Seen Dick this evenin', Dutchy?"
"Sure, dot's vot I has," was the unexpected answer.
"You have? Where?"
"Him und Bulldog Smouder vent off over towards de Bowery a while ago. Und dey vos in a hurry-up I d'inks, for dey vos valkin' fast."
"Where does Bulldog live?"
Sam gave the required information.
"Will you come with me, Dutchy?" asked Jimmy eagerly.
"Vere to?"
Jimmy rapidly explained and expressed his belief that Bulldog had enticed Dick away somewhere, though what his object could be he could hardly guess.
"Sure, I goes mit youse," declared the German newsboy. "Ve lick dot Bulldogs feller, dot's vot ve does."
"I guess we can manage him between us," said Jimmy, as he and Sam started off to rescue Dick.
When Dick saw that he had been fooled by Bulldog and was in the power of the bully, his first thought was one of fear. For Dick was not a very strong lad and was unused to physical violence. So, when the big lad shook his fist in his face and appeared ready to strike him Dick shrank back.
"Aw, I t'ought I'd skeer youse," remarked Bulldog in surly tones. "Now youse had better tell me a straight story."
"What do you mean?" asked Dick.
"Aw, youse know what I means. Youse has run away from home an' ye're only chuckin' a bluff about bein' a newsboy. Now I want t' know where youse lives, so's I kin take youse home an' git der reward."
"If I knew where I lived and who my folks were, I would only be too glad to tell you," answered Dick earnestly. "I would go home myself, without waiting for any one to take me."
"None of dat. Dat's too thin!" exclaimed Bulldog. "Youse has got t' tell me or I'll punch yer head."
"I can't tell you."
"Well, den here goes fer a punch," and again the big boy raised his big fist.
"I'll call a policeman," said Dick, who knew he was no match for the bully.
"Go ahead. We lick cops down dis way. No perliceman ever comes in here when he hears a row. He knows it ain't healthy fer him, 'less he's got a patrol wagon full of cops wid him. Now, once ag'in, are youse goin' t' tell me what I want t' know?"
"I can't!" exclaimed Dick, wishing he had Jimmy there to help him. "I would, really I would, if I could, but I can't remember anything, except that I got hit on the head and then I woke up in the box with Jimmy."
"Yes, dat's de story youse tells, but I t'ink it's a fake. What I want is de real t'ing."
"I am telling you the truth."
"Well, I don't believe youse are."
"You can ask the police at headquarters. I have been there and told them my story."
"Yes; when youse catches me around police headquarters it'll be colder dan it is now."
Bulldog grasped Dick by an arm and pulled him closer to him, while his heavy fist was ready to deal a cruel blow. Dick tried to shrink away, but he was held fast. He looked about the room for some way of escape or some weapon he might use on his captor.
The apartment, as far as he could see in the dim light of a smoking oil lamp, was deserted. There was only one door, that by which they had entered, and Bulldog had locked that. Nor was there anything in the room, save a table and a few chairs.
"Oh, youse can't git away from me," said Bulldog, guessing of what Dick was thinking. "Now, den, take dat!" and he dealt Dick a hard blow in the face. Instinctively the boy raised his arm to protect his head.
"Oh, youse wants t' fight, eh?" inquired the bully, with a sneer, at the same time taking the attitude in which pugilists are usually depicted. "Well, I kin give youse all of dat yer wants; see!"
Nothing was further from Dick's thought than to engage in a fight with the bully, but Bulldog interpreted matters his own way. All Dick cared about was to escape.
Once more the coward hit him, and then Dick's natural courage arose. He would not submit tamely to being beaten, and, with a wild desire in his heart to hit back, his fist shot out.
It would be hard to say who was the more surprised, Dick or the bully, at the effect of the blow. It caught Bulldog on the cheek and forced him back slightly. But it had the effect of further enraging him, and the bully advanced to the attack with an angry look in his eyes.
Suddenly Bulldog's fist shot out, and the blow taking Dick squarely on the chest, sent him reeling and stumbling back. An instant later he fell to the floor. Then the bully sprang forward, all his meaner fighting instincts aroused, determined to cruelly punish the lad, who, he believed, was trying to deceive him.
But at this juncture there was a sound in the hallway outside the door. It was a hurried rush of feet, and some one turned the handle of the door.
"Hey, Bulldog! If you're in there let me in before I bust in the door!" exclaimed a voice.
The bully paused, much surprised.
"Git on away from dere!" he cried.
"Let me in!" insisted the voice.
"Yah! Let us in or ve comes in anyvays," added another.
"It's Dutchy!" said Bulldog, in a whisper.
There came a kick on the rickety old door that made it shake.
"Come on! Open this door. I know you've got Dick in there!" was the demand.
"Git away from dere. Dere's nobody here but me, an' I'll punch yer head if youse don't stop bodderin' me," threatened the bully.
"Jimmy! Jimmy! Here I am! I'm in here!" shouted Dick, rising to his feet and running toward the door.
"Git back dere!" ordered Bulldog, making a grab for Dick as the boy passed him.
But before Dick could reach the door it was burst open from outside, and, tumbling into the room, came Jimmy and Sam, all out of breath from running. Bulldog started back and doubled up his fists. Jimmy made straight for Dick.
"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" he asked anxiously.
"Not—not much. I'm all right."
"He hit you!" exclaimed Jimmy, as he saw a red mark on Dick's face.
"Yes, twice."
"The brute! I'll make him pay for that!"
Jimmy was mad enough now to tackle Bulldog single-handed. But there was no need for this. Sam Schmidt's fighting blood was up. He regarded Jimmy and Dick as his best friends, and the thought that one of them had suffered at the hands of Bulldog made him angry. Sam was a big lad—taller, stronger, and heavier than the bully—but he had no training in fist-fights.
Still he did not hesitate. Straight at Bulldog he leaped, clasping him in his big arms before the bully could strike out, and an instant later the two went down, Bulldog underneath, while Sam rained blow after blow on him.
"So! Dot's de vay I do him," he explained between the thumps. "Next times you vos took somebodies yer own sizes, maybe so. Eh? Dere, dot's fer goot luck," and, with a parting blow, he allowed Bulldog to get up. The bully lost no time in beating a hasty retreat.
Then, for fear he might get some of his cronies and renew the fight, Jimmy advised that they leave, which they did, soon arriving at the lodging-house.
Dick told his story, how he had been enticed away by the untruth about Jimmy being hurt, and the latter related his part in the affair.
"We're well out of it," remarked Dick.
"We ought to tell the police," declared Jimmy.
"Vait. I lick Mike Conroy de next times I sees him, alretty," declared Sam. "Dot vos fun, how I did up der Bulldog! I don't guess dey bodders you two any more."
"I guess not either," added Jimmy.
The story of how Jimmy and Sam had "done up" Bulldog, was soon circulated among the newsboys, and it lost nothing in the telling. When Jimmy and Dick went on the street the next day the former was greeted on all sides as "Champion."
"Sam Schmidt did the most," he said, modestly.
"Dat's all right," answered some of his acquaintances. "Youse is de foist one t' stand out agin Bulldog, an' we're glad of it. Maybe he'll let us alone now." For Bulldog was a terror to the smaller boys.
"I done it for me—I mean my partner," explained Jimmy, with a fond look at Dick. "Anybody what picks on him has to answer to me."
"Dot's right, und I helps, too," added Sam. "Me und Jimmy ve fights togedder, don't ve alretty yet, Jimmy?"
"Sure," replied the hero of the occasion.
It was hot that day, so hot, in fact, that it was hard work to tramp about the streets to sell papers.
"It's me for a dip down at the Battery swimmin' pool when we get through here," remarked Jimmy, as he met his partner at one of the delivery wagons.
"That would be a good idea," said Dick. "I'll go with you."
"I uster go in the fountain basin at City Hall Park," went on Jimmy. "A dip there'd cool a feller off."
"Why don't you now?"
"Cops watches it too close. Some of the fellers goes in, though, but they're likely to lose their clothes. Cops grabs 'em every chance they gits."
The partners separated, Dick to go down to the Wall Street district, and Jimmy to his regular corner. During the afternoon, when Dick sold out, and was about to go for more papers, he was called into a hallway by a broker, who was one of his customers.
"Are you very busy?" the man asked Dick.
"Not so very, sir, just now. I've just sold out, and I need more papers. Why?"
"Well, I'd like you to go on a little errand for me. I want you to take this note over to a firm of brokers," and he named one of the most prominent ones in the financial section. Dick wondered why the man selected him, when there were plenty of messengers he could call by touching a button in his office. The man must have seen the unspoken query on Dick's face, for he said:
"I want you to go, because this is a very important matter, involving a stock deal, and if I send a regular messenger from my office, some other dealers will be sure to notice it, and it may make trouble. You can go without being suspected. Here is the note, and here is a dollar for delivering it."
"That's too much," said Dick quickly.
"I think not," replied the broker with a smile. "You are doing me more of a service than you know. Now don't lose any time."
Dick started off, with the note in his hand.
"Hold on!" called the man quickly. "Don't go out with it that way. Some one may have seen me speaking to you, and suspect something. We have to be very particular down here in Wall Street."
Dick had been down in that section long enough to understand that often the winning or losing of a big financial deal depended on a small matter, such as the broker had mentioned.
"Here, this will be a good way," went on the man, pulling a newspaper from his pocket. "Slip the letter in there, and then, if any one sees you, they'll think you are merely going into the office where I am sending you, to deliver a paper."
Dick did as requested, and was soon on his way, hardly able to believe that he had earned a dollar so easily. He hurried to the office, left his message, without being observed, as far as he could tell, and then he decided he would take a walk up to Barclay Street and see Jimmy.
"I promised him I'd meet him down at the bathhouse," said Dick to himself, "but I don't feel like it. Guess I must be a little under the weather. I don't believe it would be good to go swimming in that water. I'll use the bath-tub at the lodging house."
He went through City Hall Park, on his way to see his partner, for he had emerged in front of the World Building. As he crossed the open space, and approached the fountain, he was aware that something was going on. There was a big crowd about the water basin.
"Maybe somebody's hurt," thought Dick, hastening his steps, but, when he managed to wiggle through the throng, and was close to the edge of the basin, he saw that it was merely the sight of some lads in the fountain that had attracted the crowd.
The hot lads, braving the wrath of the police, of whom none were then present, had taken off all the garments they dared, and had plunged into the cooling water. They were splashing about like birds, enjoying a bath.
The crowd, which always assembles when this scene occurs in the park, was looking on with huge enjoyment, staid business men and millionaire merchants gathering to watch the boys at their sport. The lads splashed and ducked each other, at times, in their eagerness, even wetting the by-standers.
Suddenly there was that cry which, above all others, startles the newsboys and bootblacks of New York.
"Cheese it, de cop!"
Some lookout, posted for that very purpose, had spied the approach of the bluecoat, who came up on the run, seeing the crowd, for he knew what it meant—that the boys were disobeying a city ordinance, and bathing in the basin.
Instantly there was a rush on the part of the lads to get out, for to be caught meant to be arrested and fined. The boys sprang over the side of the basin, the crowd, laughing more heartily than ever, opening to let them escape.
As luck would have it, two or three of the larger boys, in their efforts to get away, ran toward the side of the fountain where Dick stood. He tried to get out of their path, that he might not hamper them in their escape, but there was a fat man behind him and Dick stepped on his toes.
"Ouch! My gracious! That's my corn!" cried the man, limping away.
Dick started to apologize, but he had hardly begun it, when he was fairly overwhelmed by the lads leaping from the basin. They did not care where they landed, as long as they got away from the officer, and they toppled on Dick, splashing water on him from the fountain, and from their own dripping forms.
Dick was knocked down, and one of the boys fell on top of him, the glittering drops splashing all about. Dick struggled to his feet, trying to get rid of the water in his eyes that he might see which way to go to run so as to get out of the way. But, just as he turned to go, he felt some one seize him, and a voice exclaimed:
"Now I've got you, anyhow! Come along with me!"
"Where to? What for?" asked Dick, and he looked up to see that a policeman had him by the shoulder.
"Where to? Why, the station house, of course. And what for? I guess you don't have to ask that! I'll catch some more of you chaps for takin' a dip in the basin the first chance I get, too! You got ahead of me to-day."
"I wasn't in the basin," declared Dick.
"You wasn't? Say, what ye givin' me? Didn't I see ye runnin', an' ain't ye all wet?"
"The water was splashed on me," asserted Dick. "I was just watching them, and some of the boys jumped on me."
"Think I'll believe such a fishy yarn as that?" asked the officer, incredulously. "I seen ye in swimmin', an' ye'll have t' come with me."
"But I wasn't in," insisted Dick, wishing Jimmy was now at hand to aid him.
"Ain't I got eyes in my head?" asked the officer in contempt. "You can't lie out of it that way. Why, you're drippin' wet. You must have gone in with all yer clothes on."
"I didn't go in at all."
"Aw, cut that out an' come along."
Dick did not know what to do. He looked around at the faces of the crowd that had gathered, hoping to see some one to whom he could appeal. But he saw no one. The officer was about to lead him away. All at once a man stepped forth from the throng. He was limping slightly.
"What's he done, officer?" he asked.
The man looked like an influential citizen, and the policeman decided it would be the best policy to answer him.
"Swimmin' in the basin," he said. "Against the law."
"I wasn't in," declared Dick, with tears of mortification in his eyes. "They splashed the water on me. Why, I was standing near you," he went on, for he recognized the man as the fat person, on whose toes he had accidentally stepped.
"Why, bless my soul, so you were!" exclaimed the fleshy gentleman. "Officer, you are making a mistake."
"I guess I know my business," replied the bluecoat shortly. "Move on here. Let me pass or I'll run some of ye in."
"I tell you that you are making a mistake, officer," insisted the fat man, firmly. "This boy stood right in front of me when I was watching the lads in bathing. He was not in the water at all. Why, you can see that for yourself. His shoes are not wet."
Sure enough, though Dick was pretty well soaked all over, his feet had escaped the drenching.
"How do you know he stood in front of you?" inquired the policeman, not accepting the more apparent evidence of the shoes.
"How do I know? The very best reason in the world. He stepped back to get out of the way of the rushing lads, and he came down on my favorite corn. I'm limping yet."
"I'm very sorry," began Dick, who had not had time to finish his apology.
"That's all right," answered the fat man, good-naturedly. "I'll forgive you, and do you a favor in the bargain. No, officer," he went on, "you are mistaken. This boy was not in bathing. I will testify in his favor. Here is my card, if you insist on making an arrest."
He passed a bit of pasteboard over to the policeman, who, when he had read it, took on a different attitude.
"Oh, very well, Alderman Casey," he said, "I beg your pardon. I didn't know he was a friend of yours, or I wouldn't have bothered him. Of course I must have made a mistake. He can go."
"I don't know whether he's a friend of mine or not," continued the alderman with a smile. "I'm inclined to think, by the way my corn hurts, that he isn't. But I want to see justice done. There, my lad, run along now, before you get any wetter, or step on any more fat men's toes," and the alderman, satisfied at having done a good act, and at demonstrating his influence over the police before a crowd, laughed heartily.
Dick lost no time in making his escape, fearing the officer might change his mind. He found Jimmy and related what had occurred.
"Crimps! Say, you has luck!" exclaimed Dick's partner. "Alderman Casey is one of the big-bugs! What, didn't you know him when he was speakin' to youse—I mean you?"
"No."
"Well, of course it takes time to know all the main gazabos of this town," spoke Jimmy, with an air of lofty wisdom. "But I'm sorry you don't feel well. Come an' have a soda."
"No, I don't think I care for any. I don't believe it would be good for me. But you go get one."
"All right, I will. Then you won't come swimmin' to-night, Dick?"
"No, I've had enough of it for one day. I guess I'll be better in the morning."
Dick did not feel very well that night when he went to bed. The excitement had a bad effect on his nerves, and when he awoke in the morning, he had quite a fever. His face was flushed and his breathing rapid. He tried to get up to go out with his papers, but found himself too dizzy to stand.
"I—I guess I'm sick, Jimmy," he said. "But I'll be all right in a little while. You go ahead out, so as not to lose the morning trade."
"What? And leave you here all alone, and sick? I guess not much! Wait, I'll call Mr. Snowden. He knows somethin' about medicine."
When the manager of the lodging-house saw Dick, he realized that the lad was quite ill. He did not try to prescribe for him, but at once called in the district physician.
The doctor looked grave when he had felt of Dick's pulse, looked at his tongue, and asked him some questions. Then he beckoned Mr. Snowden to come out of the room.
"What is it?" asked the manager.
"I'm afraid the lad's going to be quite ill. I can't be positive, but I don't like his symptoms. He must have had some shock recently that brought this on. He looks like a boy from some refined home. How does he come to be in this place?" This physician was not the one who had seen Dick before.
Mr. Snowden explained as much about Dick's case as he knew, ending up with an account of Bulldog's meanness.
"That fright was what brought it on," declared the doctor. "Well, I'll leave some medicine for him, and I'll come in again this afternoon. He ought to have some one to look after him."
"I guess we can arrange that. His 'partner,' as he calls him, Jimmy Small, is very kind to him. The two boys have done well selling papers, and I understand they have quite a tidy little sum saved up. They are trying to buy a stand. I guess Jimmy will stay in and look after him, and I will do what I can."
"Perhaps that will answer. He may take a turn for the better. I can tell in a few hours."
Mr. Snowden had a talk with Jimmy, telling him part of what the doctor had said, but not enough to alarm the lad. As he expected, Jimmy at once offered to stay at home and nurse Dick, as he had done once before.
"But what about selling the papers?" asked the manager.
"I can get Sam Schmidt and Frank Merton to look after part of my customers for me. The rest will have to wait until Dick gets well."
This arrangement was carried out, Frank and Sam gladly agreeing to do all in their power to help the two boys. Dick was quite ill, but fortunately nothing very serious developed. His fever still continued, however, and he was too weak to get out of bed, the physician said.
"How long will I have to stay in?" asked Dick.
"At least a week. Perhaps longer. You require nourishing food, and your nerves need quieting. You are not used to this life."
"No," said Dick softly, and again there came to him the troublesome question of what sort a life he was accustomed to, and who he was.
"But you must not worry," cautioned the doctor. "You'll be well taken care of, and in a short time you can go out again."
In a few days Dick was enough better so that he did not need any one with him constantly. Jimmy, therefore, could go out on the streets selling papers, for Mr. Snowden or some of the men employed about the lodging-house looked in Dick's room several times during the day to see if he needed anything.
"Lots of men is askin' for you," said Jimmy, when he came home one night. "Sam Schmidt is takin' care of your customers down in Wall Street, and they want to know when you're comin' back. They say they're waitin' for you, and for a while they'll buy of Sam. He tried to explain that he was workin' for you, but he can't twist his Dutch tongue well enough yet. But I guess it's all right."
Dick did not recover as quickly as the doctor expected he would, and he had been in bed over a week, for the fever did not seem to yield to the treatment.
"It must be some trouble that I can't get at," said the baffled physician one day to Mr. Snowden. "Perhaps that blow he got just before he found himself in the box may have had something to do with it. If he doesn't get better soon I'll have him taken to the hospital. We may have to operate."
"Don't tell him or Jimmy that."
"Oh, no; not until it's necessary. I'll try some new medicine."
It was the day following this that something happened which changed everything, and while at the time it seemed to Jimmy quite a misfortune, in the end it turned into a blessing.
As might be expected, Mike Conroy and Bulldog Smouder were much incensed at the failure of their plot. Jimmy had reached New York much quicker than they had thought he would, thanks to the kindness of the woman who supplied him with carfare, and to whom, with Dick's help that same night, he had mailed back the twenty-five cents with a letter of thanks. Then, too, Sam's unexpected aid and his beating of Bulldog made that bully very angry. So the two cronies were looking for a chance to get "even," as they called it.
They had about given up trying to get any reward for restoring Dick to his home, and they began to believe that the boy was telling the truth about himself. But their anger turned against Jimmy, whom they both regarded as their enemy. They were on the lookout for an opportunity to injure him in some way.
Chance gave them the very opportunity they wanted. It was in the afternoon, Jimmy was selling the last of his papers, and was counting on getting back to the room where Dick was. An Italian banana peddler stopped his cart right behind the boy and began to arrange the fruit in tempting piles. Just then Bulldog and Mike passed, and as Jimmy was counting his change he did not see them.
"Shove him over inter de Ginny's cart an' run," suggested Mike.
"Sure," agreed his crony, always ready for a mean trick.
When Jimmy was not looking Mike stepped quickly up and gave the newsboy a vigorous push. Jimmy lost his balance, and the next instant was fairly on top of the cart. It upset, and he rolled to the ground amid bunches of the yellow fruit.
"Comme sta!" wildly exclaimed the Italian. "Whatta for you doa dat? Badda de boy! Me calla de police! Upseta alla de banan!"
"I didn't do it. They pushed me," said Jimmy as he struggled to his feet and started to point out Bulldog and Mike, of whom he had caught a passing glimpse as they fled. But they had hid in a doorway and could not be seen.
"Nobody doa de push!" declared the Italian. "Badda de boya, makea me mucha de troub! Hey, police!" and he beckoned to a big bluecoat.
"Now what's the row?" asked the officer.
"Dessa boy he upseta my stand. Spoila alla de banan."
"I didn't do it," declared Jimmy.
"Aw, g'wan! Didn't I see you on top of the cart," said the officer. There had recently been a concerted protest on the part of Italian peddlers against newsboys and bootblacks who annoyed them, and as the Italian vote was getting large, interested politicians had induced the police captains to instruct their men to be on the lookout to arrest boys who bothered the peddlers. So the officer took more interest in this case than otherwise he would have done.
"Some one pushed me," asserted Jimmy again.
"That's a likely story. I seen you do it. Now I'm goin' to run you in," and with that the bluecoat arrested Jimmy and marched him off to the police station, the Italian following with his cart to make a complaint.
Jimmy was in despair. He did not see how he was going to convince the sergeant in the station-house that he was innocent of the charge. Certainly to the policeman and the Italian it did look as if Jimmy had deliberately jumped on the cart, thus upsetting it.
And another matter worried Jimmy. He knew that if the stories of the policeman and peddler were believed he would probably be locked up over night for a hearing before the magistrate the next morning. Meanwhile who would look after Dick?
"Crimps! but this is bad luck!" thought Jimmy. "If I only had some one to go my bail maybe I could get off."
But he could think of no one on whom he might call. Jimmy's acquaintance was not among those capable of signing bail bonds.
A big crowd had gathered when the arrest was made, and Jimmy looked in vain among the throng for some friendly person by whom he could send word to Mr. Snowden of his plight He thought the manager might be able to help him.
Then when the officer led him away quite a number of newsboys and bootblacks followed. Reaching the precinct station-house, Jimmy was taken inside and made to stand in front of the big brass railing surrounding the desk, while the sergeant prepared to hear what the policeman had to say.
"Here's a kid that upset the Italian's cart," explained the bluecoat. "I seen him do it."
"Dat's a'right, Mr. Police," added the peddler. "He badda de boy. Knocka alla de banan in de streeta."
"What's your name?" asked the sergeant, drawing the blotter, or slate, toward him. On this were written the names of prisoners, and Jimmy, who had often been in station-houses when men were locked up, knew what was coming next.
"You're not going to lock me up, are you?" he asked.
"That's what we are," replied the sergeant. "This business of annoying the Italians has got to stop." He was only carrying out the orders of his superiors.
"But I didn't do it."
"Well, you can prove that to the judge in the morning and he'll let you go."
"Sure he done it," repeated the policeman. "I seen him."
Which was true enough as far as it went. The officer was honestly mistaken, as was the Italian. The sergeant wrote down Jimmy's name and other information which the lad gave.
"Anybody go your bail?" and the sergeant looked up on asking the usual question, for in such minor offenses as this he was empowered to take bail for prisoners.
"If you could send to Mr. Snowden, manager of the Newsboys' Lodging House, I'm sure he would," said Jimmy.
"Got any money to pay for a messenger?"
"Sure," and the newsboy hauled out a handful of change.
"All right," remarked the sergeant indifferently. "Doorman, lock him up and then call a messenger for him."
Even though he was to be locked in a cell, Jimmy did not mind it so much, now that there was a chance to get word to Mr. Snowden. He was searched, his money being all that was returned to him, his knife and some other possessions being retained by the sergeant until he should be bailed or discharged. Then the doorman summoned a district messenger boy, to whom Jimmy talked through the bars of his cell, instructing him to inform Mr. Snowden what had happened and ask him to come to the police-station.
Meanwhile the policeman had gone back on his beat, and the Italian, having been instructed to appear at court in the morning, was allowed to go. He had left his cart in front of the station-house, and his stock of bananas was much less when he came out, as the temptation of the fruit had been too much for the crowd of boys.
Mr. Snowden came promptly in response to Jimmy's request, and soon arranged for bail for the lad. So a few hours after he was arrested Jimmy was free again, but he would have to be tried in the morning.
"I'd advise you," said the sergeant, who took more interest in Jimmy's case when he heard from the lodging-house superintendent what sort of a lad the newsboy was, "to hunt up these two chaps you say pushed you. If you see them call a policeman and have them arrested. You can make a charge against them."
"But will a cop—I mean a policeman—arrest them on my say-so?" asked Jimmy.
"I guess so. Wait, I'll give you a note, and you can show it to the officer nearest at hand when you see those two chaps," and the sergeant wrote out a note for Jimmy.
Then with Mr. Snowden the boy left the station-house, his mind made up to search for Mike and Bulldog and cause their arrest. And this was not so much because he was vindictive as that he wanted to be cleared of the unjust charge.
"How's Dick?" asked Jimmy of the lodging-house manager.
"Not quite so well," was the grave answer. "But don't worry. I guess he'll be all right."
"I suppose I'd better go back and take care of him instead of chasing after Mike and Bulldog."
"No, perhaps it will be well for you to stay away. He will be sure to question you, and if he hears of your arrest it might excite him. I will tell him you are all right, but that you have some business to attend to. Meanwhile you can look for those two young rowdies. I hope you find them. I'll look out for Dick; so don't worry."
After a hasty supper Jimmy set out to find the two bullies, with the note from the sergeant safe in his pocket. He knew where Mike and Bulldog usually were to be found at night—in the neighborhood of some of the moving picture shows—and thither Jimmy went.
As he walked down the Bowery he saw a crowd in front of a brilliantly-lighted store, the proprietor of which, to draw trade, had installed a small cage of monkeys. There was quite a throng of men and boys watching the antics of the creatures.
As Jimmy approached the outer line of people he saw, standing close together near the window, the two bullies whom he sought. This was unexpected good luck, and he looked around for a policeman. He saw one not far off, and then seeing a newsboy whom he knew, Jimmy quietly whispered to the latter to summon the officer.
"What fer?" asked the lad.
"You'll see in a minute. There's going to be some fun."
For Jimmy had made up his mind to grab both the bullies and hold them until the officer could arrive, regardless of what they might do to him, though he knew they would beat and kick him in an endeavor to get away. But he calculated it could not last long, as just before he prepared to tackle the two he saw the officer start toward the throng.
"Now for it," said Jimmy in a whisper to himself.
But just then something most unexpected happened. As Jimmy crept closer to the two unsuspecting ones he saw the hand of Mike Conroy slip into the pocket of a man standing near him. Softly and slowly the hand was inserted, and a moment later it was withdrawn, holding a pocketbook.
"He's picking that man's pocket!" thought Jimmy. "Now I can make another charge against him."
He made a sudden grab for Mike. At the same instant the man who had been robbed turned around, for he felt some movement in his pocket.
"Mr. Crosscrab!" exclaimed Jimmy, as he saw the man's face.
"Why, Jimmy, I've been looking for you!" cried the young man. "But what's this? My pocketbook!"
For he saw it in Mike's hand, which Jimmy held in a firm grasp.
"He stole it!" cried Jimmy.
"I did not! I found it on de sidewalk, an' I were jest goin' t' hand it back t' him!" cried the bully.
"Hold him, Mr. Crosscrab!" cried Jimmy, making a grab for Bulldog, who, seeing how matters were going, was trying to sneak away. Mr. Crosscrab acted promptly, and Mike struggled in vain to get loose.
"Let me go or I'll smash youse a good one!" threatened Bulldog, but Jimmy held grimly on.
"What's the row?" asked the policeman, hurrying through the crowd that had encircled the four.
"He tried to rob me," explained Mr. Crosscrab, and it was very evident, for the pocketbook had fallen to the sidewalk when Mike opened his hand.
"All right. I'll take him in. You'll have to come along and make a charge."
"I'll do it."
"And I want this one arrested!" exclaimed Jimmy.
"What for?" and the officer looked surprised. "Are there two of 'em?"
"This fellow upset an Italian's cart by pushing me into it to-day," explained Jimmy, keeping hold of Bulldog despite the latter's efforts to get away. "I was arrested for it, and the sergeant said I should have him and Mike locked up as witnesses. Here's a note," and with much difficulty Jimmy took it out and handed it to the policeman.
"I didn't do it. It was Mike," declared Bulldog.
"Youse done it yerself," said Mike.
The policeman quickly read the note. Meanwhile Mr. Crosscrab had been holding Mike, and the crowd was now so thick that Bulldog had no chance to escape, even if he had dared risk it with an officer at hand.
"All right. I'll lock 'em both up," said the officer, taking one arm of each of the prisoners. "Make way there. I'll ring for the wagon."
"I'll do it for you," volunteered Jimmy, for he had once opened a patrol box and sent in a call for a policeman who had his hands full with a refractory prisoner.
"All right. You're a smart kid. Here's my key," and the bluecoat passed it over, temporarily letting go of Mike, but grabbing him again as the thief started to run.
Meanwhile Mr. Crosscrab had picked up his pocketbook, and with Jimmy followed the officer and his two prisoners, while the crowd trailed along in the rear. The patrol box was soon reached and Jimmy sent in the call. In a few minutes the wagon arrived, and Mike and Bulldog, both protesting their innocence, were taken to the station-house.