Читать книгу Nelson The Newsboy - Stratemeyer Edward, Alger Horatio Jr., Thomas Chandler Haliburton - Страница 3

As Nelson had said, he was of unknown parentage and practically alone in the world. As far back as he could remember he had lived with Sam Pepper, a shiftless, unprincipled man, who in the last ten years had followed the sea and a dozen other callings, and who was at present the proprietor of a lunch-room on the East Side—a place frequented by many persons of shady reputation.

Where he had come from, and what his real name was, were complete mysteries to Nelson, and it must be confessed that in the past he had paid scant attention to them; this being largely due to his immature years. Now, however, he was growing older, and he often found himself wondering how it was that he was living with Sam Pepper.

Once he had asked the man, but the only answer he received was a growl and a demand that he stop asking foolish questions. "You're only a kid yet," said Pepper. "Wait till you're old enough; maybe then you'll learn a thing or two." And so Nelson waited, but did not cease to wonder.

Many of Sam Pepper's intimates were hard customers, and Nelson was of the opinion that Pepper himself was no better, although he was not in a position to prove it. The boy was driven out to earn his own living, and the only time that Pepper was liberal with him was when the man was in liquor.

More than once Nelson had thought to run away from the man and his evil associates, but found himself unable to do so. The main reason for his remaining was that he felt Pepper held the mystery of his past, and if he went away that mystery would remain forever unsolved.

As Nelson had said, he had gained a scanty education by attending night school. To this education he had added some useful reading, so he was advanced as far as most boys in much better circumstances. Learning appeared to come easy to him, showing that his mind was of the superior sort.

Nelson had started out that morning with a determination to sell all the papers possible, and keep on with his efforts until he had eight or ten dollars to his credit. With this amount he intended to invest in a suit which he had seen advertised for six dollars, a cap, and a cheap pair of shoes. He did not know but what Pepper might find fault with him for "cutting such a swell," but he was willing to risk it.

Before meeting the stout gentleman Nelson's assets amounted to three dollars and forty cents. With the ten cents for papers and the two dollars extra, he now found himself with five dollars and half to his credit. This was not a fortune, but as Nelson had never before possessed more than three dollars at one time, it was, to his way of thinking, considerable.

The suggestion that he lend Billy Darnley a dollar did not appeal to him. In the first place he knew Billy to be both a bully and a spendthrift, who was more than likely to squander the money on pie, ice cream, cigarettes, and a ticket to some cheap burlesque show, and in the second place he was more than satisfied that Billy would never refund the loan, not having returned a quarter loaned him months before.

"Let go my arm, Billy!" he cried, as the big newsboy brought him to a halt.

"Why can't yer let me have de dollar?" questioned Billy. "I'll make it right wid yer, Nelse; take me word on it."

"How is it you haven't paid back that quarter I let you have?"

"I did pay it back."

"No, you didn't."

"Yes, I did. I—I give it to Sam one day to give to yer."

By the look on his face Nelson knew that the bully was falsifying.

"Sam never told me, and I guess he would if it was so. Now let me go."

"I want dat dollar first."

"You shan't have it."

Nelson had scarcely spoken when Billy Darnley made a sudden clutch for the pocket of his vest.

Much dilapidated, the pocket gave way easily; and in a twinkle the bully was running up the street with five dollars in bills and a bit of cloth clutched tightly in his dirty fist.

"Hi! stop!" cried Nelson, but instead of heeding the demand, the bully only ran the faster. Soon he passed around a corner and down a side street leading to the East River.

Nelson was an excellent runner, and, papers under his arm, he lost no time in making after the thief. Thus block after block was passed, until pursued and pursuer were but a short distance from one of the ferry entrances.

A boat was on the point of leaving, and without waiting to obtain a ferry ticket, Billy Darnley slipped in among the trucks going aboard. A gate-keeper tried in vain to catch him, and then came back and shut the gate, just as Nelson reached it.

"Open the gate!" cried Nelson, so out of breath he could scarcely utter the words. "Open the gate, quick!"

"Go around to the other entrance," replied the gate-keeper, and then added, "Are you after that other newsboy?"

"I am. He stole five dollars from me."

"Five dollars! That's a good one. You never had five dollars in your life. You can't get a free ride on any such fairy tale as that. You go around and buy a ticket, or I'll call a policeman."

In despair Nelson looked through the high, slatted gate and saw that the gates on the ferryboat were already down. A bell jangled, and the big paddle wheels began to revolve. In another moment the boat had left the slip and was on its way to Brooklyn.

"He's gone—and the five dollars is gone, too!" groaned Nelson, and his heart sank. He knew that it would be useless to attempt to follow the bully. Billy would keep out of sight so long as the money lasted. When it was spent he would re-appear in New York and deny everything, and to prove that he was a thief would be next to impossible, for, so far as Nelson knew, nobody had seen the money taken.

He had now but fifty cents left, and a stock of papers worth half a dollar more, if sold. With a heavy heart he walked away from the ferryhouse in the direction from whence he had come.

Nelson had scarcely taken his stand at the corner again when a young lady, very stylishly dressed, came out of a neighboring store, looked at him, and smiled.

"Did you catch him?" she asked sweetly.

"Who, miss; the big boy who stole my money?" questioned Nelson quickly.

"Yes."

"No, ma'am; he got away, on a Brooklyn ferryboat."

"And how much did he steal from you?"

"Five dollars."

"Why, I didn't think—that is, five dollars is a nice sum for a newsboy, isn't it?"

"Yes, ma'am; but I was saving up for a new suit of clothes."

"And he got away from you? Too bad! I wish I could help you, but unfortunately I have spent all of my money but this." She held out a quarter. "Will you accept it?"

Nelson looked at her, and something compelled him to draw back.

"Excuse me—but I'd rather not," he stammered. "Much obliged, just the same."

"You had better take the money," went on the young lady, whose name was Gertrude Horton. But Nelson would not listen to it, and so she had to place the piece in her purse again. Then she entered the coach standing near and was driven rapidly away. The newsboy gazed after the coach curiously.

"What a lot of money it must take to keep up such style!" he thought. "Those folks spend more in a week, I guess, than some folks on the East Side spend in a year. I don't wonder Sam is always growling about not being rich—after he's been out among the wealthy people he knows. I must say I'd like to be rich myself, just for once, to see how it feels."

Long before noon Nelson's stock of newspapers was exhausted. Without going to Sam Pepper's restaurant for lunch he stopped at a small stand on a side street, where he obtained several crullers and a cup of coffee for five cents. His scanty meal over he purchased a supply of evening papers and set to work to sell these, with the result, by nightfall, that all were gone, and he was thirty-five cents richer.

Sam Pepper's place on the East Side was half a dozen steps below the pavement, in a semi-basement, which was narrow and low and suffering greatly for a thorough cleaning. In the front was a small show window, filled with pies and vegetables, and behind this eight or ten tables for diners. To one side was a lunch counter for those who were in a hurry, and at the back was a small bar. The cooking was done in a shed in the rear, and beside this shed were two rooms which Nelson and Sam Pepper called their home.

The whole place was so uninviting it is a wonder that Sam Pepper had any trade at all. But his prices were low, and this was a large attraction to those whose purses were slim. Besides this Sam never interfered with those who came to patronize him, and it may as well be stated here that many a crime was concocted at those tables, without the police of the metropolis being the wiser. To Sam it made no difference if his customer was the worst criminal on the East Side so long as he paid his way.

"We've all got to live," he would say. "The world owes every man a living, and if he can't git it one way he must git it in another."

The secret of Sam Pepper's looseness of morals was the fact that he had seen better days, and his coming down in the world had caused him to become more and more reckless. At the present time money was tight with him, and he was fast approaching that point when, as we shall soon see, he would be fit for any desperate deed.