CHAPTER XXI
JIMMY IN TROUBLE
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.
CHAPTER XXII
MR. CROSSCRAB IS ROBBED
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.
CHAPTER XXIII
BACK AT BUSINESS
Formalities at the police-station were soon complied with. Mr. Crosscrab made a complaint of robbery against Mike Conroy, and that bully was locked up. There was also Jimmy's charge against him, and in this was also included Bulldog, so that youth, too, was put into a cell. Mr. Crosscrab and Jimmy were told to appear in the morning as witnesses.
"Well, Jimmy," remarked Mr. Crosscrab when they were in the street once more, "you seem to be right on hand when you're wanted."
"It was mostly luck that I prevented him from robbing you though. But I did myself a good turn, for now I can be cleared of the charge of upsetting the banana cart."
"If my pocketbook had been stolen it would have meant a serious loss to me."
"How so?"
"It contains a large sum of money. I am going back to my home in Newton, Vermont, to-morrow, and I have to take quite a sum with me to conclude some business matters in which I am engaged. So if Mike had gotten away with the cash I would have been put to considerable loss."
"Then I am glad I saw him in time. When are you coming around to see me and my partner, Mr. Crosscrab? He's sick."
"I am sorry to hear that. I meant to come before this, but I have been quite busy since coming to New York. Then my aunt being taken ill made me change my plans. However, she is better now, and that is why I am going home."
"Are you coming back to New York?"
"Yes, I expect to return in about a week, and then I will be glad to call and see you. I hope Dick Box will soon be better. I never can help thinking what a queer name that is."
"It is rather odd, but we can't seem to get a better one for him nor discover his real one."
"That is too bad. I would like very much to see him, and I will just as soon as I get back. I would call to-night, only it is getting late and I have several matters to attend to. But I will see you at court in the morning."
Jimmy bade his friend good-night and hurried to the lodging-house, for he was anxious about Dick. However, he found his partner much better, and the doctor said he thought the boy would now speedily recover as his fever had entirely left him.
Mike and Bulldog were given a preliminary hearing the next day. On the charge of theft Mike was remanded in heavy bail for the Grand Jury's action, and Bulldog was also held as a witness. Then Jimmy was arraigned on the charge, made by the policeman, that he had tipped over the Italian's cart.
But the previous complaints against the two youths had their effect on Jimmy's case. He told his story, saying how Bulldog and Mike had pushed him, and the Italian, who had calmed down to a considerable extent, gave such testimony that it convinced the magistrate Jimmy was telling the truth. Mike and Bulldog were questioned, and finally had to admit that they were the guilty ones.
So they were convicted on that charge, and were sentenced to pay a fine of ten dollars each. As they did not have the money, and could not get bail on the other charge, they were taken to the Tombs prison, while Jimmy was allowed to go. Incidentally the magistrate complimented Jimmy on the manner in which he had caused the arrest of the two young criminals.
"Well, I suppose I will have to appear later when Mike's regular trial comes off," remarked Mr. Crosscrab as he parted from Jimmy in front of the police court. "But that will not be for some time. Now I am off for Vermont, but I will not forget to see you when I return. Give my regards to your partner, in whom, though I have never seen him, I take a great deal of interest. Poor Dick Box; I must help you to find a better name for him when I get back."
"I wish you would. The police can't seem to help him."
"Then I will. Good-by, Jimmy."
"Good-by, Mr. Crosscrab."
Jimmy started back to work with a lighter heart than he had had in many a day, and the principal cause of it was that Dick was getting better. He would be able to be out in a few days, the doctor said.
So Jimmy hustled around and sold a large number of papers. Frank Merton and Sam Schmidt had been helping the partners, and business had not been so bad, though of course the profits were largely taken up in paying the two boys who did Dick's work.
One afternoon, at the close of the day's business, Sam Schmidt came to Jimmy with every appearance of excitement.
"What's the matter, Sam?" asked Jimmy. "Found a pocketbook full of bills?"
"Nope, but I haf alretty found somedings else."
"What is it?"
"I haf found der advertisement about dot Box feller."
"What! About Dick? Have you found something about him in the paper?" for Sam had not given up looking for a notice in the personal columns of the papers, which might refer to the strange new boy who had come into the midst of the news-lads.
"For sure, I haf. Here it iss," and Sam pulled out a piece torn from the Herald.
"Read it," said Jimmy. "I ain't quite quick enough on me – I mean my – words yet. You read it."
"Vell, I am not so good on der Englishness of it, but dis is vot it means. 'If der boy vot runned avay from his home vill come back all vill be forgiveness, und der money he took to go und fight der Indians mit, he can keep, for his mudder und his fadder is sorrowfulness mitout him, und vould he please write or sends a message und all vill be vell, und he kin haf der pony und der bicycle vot he wants.' Dot's all dere is to it."
"But don't it say who he is – who the kid is? – though I don't believe it's Dick that's meant."
"Sure it says who it is vot put it in der paper," replied Sam. "It says dot der boy is to address Mr. Samuel Wonsonski, New York City."
"Then it ain't Dick," decided Jimmy.
"Vy not? Ain't it got referenceness to a boy vot runned avay; und ain't Dick a runavay?"
"I don't know as he is. Anyhow, this can't be about him."
"Vy not?"
"Because this is the name of either a Jew or a Russian, and Dick's an American."
"Oh, maybe dot's so," agreed Sam. "But you can't always sometimes tell. Maybe he is a part Jew and part Russian and part American. Ve had better ask him, I dinks."
"Well, it wouldn't do any harm, I s'pose," admitted Jimmy. "Come ahead over to the lodging-house, and we'll tell him about this advertisement."
They found Dick feeling pretty comfortable, and, as he seemed able to converse about the mystery, Jimmy began on the subject that had brought Sam and himself to his partner's room.
"Dick," asked Jimmy, "you don't s'pose you ran away to fight Indians; did you?"
"Fight Indians? No. Why?"
"And you didn't take any money from your dad; did you?"
"Of course not. What makes you ask such questions?"
"Because it's in der paper," replied Sam. "See, iss dis got anyding to do mit you?" and he held out the torn piece of the newspaper.
Dick read it quickly, and slowly shook his head. A look of hope had come into his face when Sam had extended the slip, but it faded away again, leaving him pale and wan.
"No, I'm sure that isn't my name," he said.
"Are you sure?" asked Sam, who hated to give up the idea.
"Very sure."
"But didn't you want a pony?" asked the German youth.
"No, as near as I can remember, I had a horse or a pony," replied Dick. "I seem to recall something about owning one. I know I used to take long drives in a carriage, through a beautiful country."
"Den you didn't lif in New York," declared Sam, positively. "Dis is a great city, but dere ain't no beautiful country about it. I know. I lived in der country in der Vaterland, und dot vos country dere vot vos country," and he sighed in regret.
He looked at the piece of paper once more.
"Vait!" he exclaimed. "Vos you ever haf a desire for a bicycle? Maybe dot's it. Maybe your fadder vouldn't gif you a bicycle, und you runned avay to hund Indians, und dey scalped you, und took your remembery mit 'em."
"Oh, no, no!" exclaimed Dick, laughing in spite of himself. "I never cared much for a bicycle. I'm sure I shouldn't have run away from home because I couldn't have one."
"Und der Indians didn't scalp you?" asked Sam, as if still in doubt.
"No, indeed. I've got all my hair yet, even if my memory has gone back on me. I guess that must refer to some other boy. Why, of course it does. Here it says his first name is Isaac, and the description isn't at all like me."
"Vell, dot's so," admitted Sam, when he had read the item over again. "I guess it must be somebodies else dan you. I'm sorry, Dick. I thought sure I hat found out who you vos."
"I wish you had, Sam, but I'll find out some day."
Dick sighed in regret, for the strain was beginning to tell on him. Nevertheless he bore up well.
At the end of the week Dick was able to go out, and he felt so well that he insisted that he be allowed to sell papers.
"I don't think you're able to," objected Jimmy.
"Oh, yes, I am. Besides, I want to earn some money. I've been quite an expense to you."
"Crimps! I don't mean that. But that's nothing. Look what you did for me. I'm ever so much better off since I met you."
"I am glad you think so, but you must have had to draw some of our savings out of the bank for medicine and things, and I want to put it back so we can purchase that stand before Christmas, if possible."
"Oh, Christmas is quite a ways off. Besides, I only used about five dollars from the bank. Business has been very good lately, even with paying Frank and Sam a commission."
Since Dick's illness Jimmy had developed quite a business talent, and as he could now read and write some, he attended to matters connected with their little bank account, putting some in and at times drawing a dollar or so out, as it was needed.
Though Jimmy insisted that Dick take a rest before beginning to sell papers, the latter would not hear of it. The next day he started out with his bundle as usual, glad to be back at business once more. He was welcomed by many of his former customers, who remembered him, and he sold a large number of papers.
"How do you feel?" asked Jimmy that night when the partners were in their room.
"Pretty good, only a little tired. My, what a lot has happened since that night I thought you were hurt!"
"I should say so. Mike and Bulldog will not bother us for quite a while, I guess," and this proved a correct surmise, for some time later, at the trial, they were both convicted and sent to a reform school for long terms. Jimmy never recovered the money which Mike stole from him at the moving picture show nor that taken in Brooklyn.
"Yes, lots of things happened," went on Dick, "only I wish a little more had."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean I wish I knew who I was."
Jimmy said nothing. He did not like to see Dick sad, but he did not know how to help him in this matter. Would the mystery never be solved?