Stratemeyer Edward
Nelson The Newsboy
CHAPTER XX.
THE HOME IN THE TENEMENT
"Oh, how thankful I am that you came!" exclaimed Gertrude, when she felt safe once more.
"I'm glad myself," answered Nelson heartily. "But how was it Pepper made you a prisoner?"
"I went there to find you, because Mrs. Kennedy is so sick. I must get back to her at once."
"There is no need to hurry." And Nelson told of what he and Gladys had done for the patient.
Then Gertrude related her story and told how Homer Bulson had said she must marry him.
"He was going to take me to some place in New Jersey," Gertrude continued. "I heard him and Sam Pepper talk it over."
"The both of them are a big pair of rascals!" burst out Nelson. "Oh, I wish I was a man! I'd teach them a lesson!" And he shook his head determinedly.
"I am afraid Mr. Bulson will find out that I am living with Mrs. Kennedy, and he'll watch his chance to make more trouble for me," said the girl despondently. "Oh, why can't he let me alone? He can have my uncle's money, and welcome."
"We'll all be on guard," answered Nelson. "If he tries to harm you, call a policeman. Perhaps that will scare him."
Gertrude returned to her home with Mrs. Kennedy, and satisfied that Homer Bulson would do nothing further that night, the newsboy started to walk uptown.
But presently he changed his mind and turned his footsteps toward the East Side. When he reached the vicinity of Sam Pepper's resort he saw a coach drawn up in front of the place.
Homer Bulson was just coming out of the resort with Sam Pepper behind him.
"It's too bad," our hero heard Bulson say.
"You're a fine rascal!" cried the boy boldly. "For two pins I'd have you locked up."
"Here he is now!" exclaimed Bulson. "Pepper, you ought to take him in hand for his impudence."
"Sam Pepper won't touch me, and you won't touch me, either," cried our hero, with flashing eyes. "You thought you were smart, Mr. Homer Bulson, but your game didn't work. And let me tell you something. If you trouble Miss Horton in the future, she and I are going to put the police on your track."
"Me? The police!" ejaculated the young man, in horror.
"Yes, the police. So, after this, you had better let her alone."
"Nelson, you talk like a fool," put in Sam Pepper.
"I don't think so."
"What is that girl to you? If you'd only stand in with us, it would be money in your pocket."
"I'm not for sale."
"Mr. Bulson wants to do well by her. She don't know how to work. If she marries him, she'll have it easy for the rest of her life."
"But she don't want him, and that's the end of it. I've given you warning now. If anything happens to her I'll call in the police, and I'll tell all I know, and that's more than either of you dream of," concluded our hero, and walked off.
"He's an imp!" muttered Bulson savagely. "I'd like to wring his neck for him!"
"I wonder how much he knows?" said Pepper, in alarm. "It was always a mystery to me how he and the girl fell in with each other."
"He can't know very much, for she doesn't know a great deal, Pepper. He's only talking to scare us," said Bulson. His uncle had not told him of the meeting in the library.
"What are you going to do next?"
"Better wait till this affair blows over. Then Gertrude will be off her guard," concluded Homer Bulson.
After that several weeks slipped by without anything unusual happening. Gertrude kept on her guard when going out to give piano lessons, but neither Bulson nor Pepper showed himself.
Gertrude, Gladys, and Nelson all took turns in caring for Mrs. Kennedy, and the old lady speedily recovered from the severe attack of rheumatism she had experienced. She was anxious to get back to her fruit-and-candy stand.
"It's meself as can't afford to be idle at all," she declared. "Sure an' I must owe yez all a whole lot av money."
"Don't owe me a cent," said Nelson, and Gertrude and Gladys said the same.
Business with the firm was steadily increasing. The boy who had carried the paper route had left, and Paul Randall was now filling the place and doing his best to bring in new trade.
"We'll soon be on our way to opening a regular store," said George Van Pelt, one day. "We really need the room already."
"Let us go slow," said Nelson. "I know a fellow who had a stand near the Fulton ferry. He swelled up and got a big store at fifty dollars a month, and then he busted up in less than half a year. I want to be sure of what I am doing." And Van Pelt agreed with him that that was best.
Of course some newsboys were jealous of our hero's success, and among these were Billy Darnley and Len Snocks. Both came up to the stand while Nelson was in sole charge one afternoon, and began to chaff him.
"T'ink yer big, don't yer?" said Darnley. "I could have a stand like dis, if I wanted it."
"Perhaps you could, if you could steal the money to buy it," replied our hero suggestively.
"Dis aint no good spot fer business," put in Len Snocks. "Why didn't yer git furder downtown?"
"This is good enough for me," said our hero calmly. "If you don't like the stand, you don't have to patronize me."
"Yer don't catch me buyin' nuthin here," burst out Snocks. "We know better where to spend our money; don't we, Billy?"
"Perhaps you called to pay up that balance you owe me," said Nelson to Billy Darnley. "There is a dollar and ninety cents still coming my way."
"Ah, go on wid yer!" growled Billy Darnley, with a sour look. "I wouldn't have de stand, if yer give it to me. Come on, Len!" And he hauled his companion away.
Our hero felt that he could afford to laugh at the pair. "I guess it's a case of sour grapes," he said to himself. "They'd think they were millionaires if they owned a place like this."
Both Darnley and Snocks were out of money, and hungry, and they were prowling along the street, ready to pick up anything which came to hand.
"It's a shame Nelse's got dat stand," said Darnley. "He don't deserve it no more'n I do."
"No more dan me," added Snocks. "It beats all how some fellers strike it lucky, eh?"
"I wish we could git something off of him," went on the larger bully.
"Off de stand?" queried Snocks.
"Yes."
"Maybe we can—to-night, after he locks up."
"Say, dat would be just de t'ing," burst out the larger boy. "Nobody is around, and it would be easy to break open de lock. If only we had a push-cart, we could make a big haul."
"I know an Italian who has one. We can borrow dat."
"Will he lend it?"
"I'll borrow it on de sly."
So a plan was arranged to get the push-cart that night, after the news stand was locked up and Nelson and Van Pelt had gone away. Billy Darnley had a bunch of keys in his pocket, and he felt fairly certain that one or another would fit the lock to the stand.
"Won't Nelse be surprised when he finds de t'ings gone?" said Snocks. "But it will serve him right, won't it?"
"To be sure," added Darnley. "He's gittin' too high-toned. He wants to come down out of de clouds."
CHAPTER XXI.
NELSON MAKES A PRESENT
In some manner of her own Mrs. Kennedy had found out that that day was Gertrude's birthday, and she had concocted a scheme with Nelson and Gladys to give her a surprise.
"Sure an' the poor dear deserves a bit av pleasure," said the old Irishwoman. "This humdrum life is almost a-killin' av her. We'll buy her a few things, and have a bit av a party supper."
"She shall have my best bouquet," said the flower girl. She loved Gertrude dearly.
Nelson was in a great state of perplexity concerning what to give Gertrude. One after another, different things were considered and rejected.
"You see, she's a regular lady," he said to George Van Pelt, "and I want to give her something that just suits. Now a common girl would like most anything, but she's—well, she's different; that's all."
"Most girls like dresses and hats," suggested Van Pelt.
Nelson shook his head.
"It won't do. Her dresses and her hat are better than I could buy. Besides, I want to give her something she can keep."
"Does she like to read?"
"I guess she does."
"I saw a new book advertised—a choice collection of poems. It's really something fine—far better than most collections. How would that suit?"
"How much was the book?"
"Two dollars and a half, but we, as dealers, can get it for a dollar and seventy-five cents."
"Then that's what I'll get. And I'll write in it, 'To Miss Gertrude Horton, from her true friend Nelson,'" said the boy.
The book was duly purchased, and our hero spent the best part of half an hour in writing in it to his satisfaction. That night he closed up a little early and walked down to the Kennedy home with the volume under his arm.
"Oh, what a splendid book!" cried Gertrude, on receiving it. Then she read the inscription on the fly-leaf. "Nelson, you are more than kind, and I shall never forget you!" And she squeezed his hand warmly.
Gladys had brought her largest bouquet and also a nice potted plant, and Mrs. Kennedy had presented a sensible present in the shape of a much-needed pair of rubbers.
"Winter will soon be here," said the old woman. "And then it's not our Miss Gertrude is going to git wet feet, at all!"
The girl was taken quite by surprise, and even more so when Mrs. Kennedy brought in a substantial supper, which had been cooking on the stove of a neighbor. To this Nelson added a quart of ice cream from a near-by confectioner's, and the birthday party was voted a great success by all who participated.
"You have all been so kind to me," said Gertrude, when they broke up, "you make me forget what I had to give up."
"Don't ye be after worryin', dear," said Mrs. Kennedy. "'Twill all come out right in the end."
"I trust so, Mrs. Kennedy. But I ask for nothing more than that I can earn my own living and keep the friends I have made," answered the girl.
"How many scholars have you now?" questioned Gladys.
"Fourteen, and two more are promised."
"Sixteen is not bad," said our hero, who knew that that meant eight dollars a week for the teacher.
It was after midnight when the party broke up, and Nelson had to take Gladys to her home, several blocks away. The flower girl lived with a bachelor brother, who supported himself and paid the rent. The rest Gladys had to supply herself.
"I wish I had a regular stand for flowers," she said to Nelson. "I could make a good deal more, then."
"I'll help you buy a stand some day, Gladys," he replied. "I know a good place up in your neighborhood."
That was Nelson, helping everybody he could, and that is why he is the hero of this tale of New York street life.
"If you'll help me I'll pay you back," said the flower girl earnestly. "You know flowers keep so much better when they are in a glass case," she explained.
A light rain was falling when the newsboy at last started for the house where he roomed. He buttoned his coat up around his throat and pulled his hat far down over his eyes.
He was almost to his room when, on turning a corner, he saw two big boys shoving a push-cart along, piled high with goods concealed under some potato sacking. As the boys passed in the glare of an electric light he recognized Billy Darnley and Len Snocks.
"Hullo, this is queer!" he murmured. "Where are they going with that push-cart? I didn't know either of 'em was in the peddling business."
The pair soon passed out of sight, and Nelson continued on his way. Quarter of an hour later he was in bed and in the land of dreams.
It was George Van Pelt's turn to open up the stand on the following morning, our hero being entitled to sleep an hour longer than otherwise in consequence. But hardly had the time for opening arrived when George Van Pelt came rushing around to our hero's room in high excitement.
"Nelson, what does this mean?" he demanded.
"What does what mean?" asked our hero sleepily.
"All the things are gone from the stand!"
"Gone?"
"Yes, everything—papers, books, pens, pencils, writing pads, ink, mucilage, everything. It's a clean sweep. Do you know anything about it?"
"No, I don't," answered Nelson, and now he was as wide awake as his partner. "When did it happen?"
"I don't know—some time before I got there. One of the padlocks was broken and the other unlocked. The rascals even took the money drawer," went on Van Pelt bitterly.
"That had fifteen cents in it," said Nelson. "I took it in after I made up the cash for the day."
"Well, we're in a pickle now," groaned Van Pelt. "And just think, we were insured only day before yesterday."
"But not against burglars," groaned Nelson in return. "If we can't trace up the stuff, we'll have to lose it."
"But we can't afford to lose the stuff. It was worth sixty dollars if it was worth a penny."
"Nearer seventy dollars, for I bought some new pads and paper-bound books yesterday, and they cost seven dollars and a quarter. We must find the robbers." The newsboy hit his washstand with his fist. "By jinks, I've got it! I know who robbed us!"
"Who?"
"Len Snocks and Billy Darnley, those newsboys I told you about. I saw them eying the stand pretty closely, and last night, when I came home from the party, I saw them on the block below here with a push-cart full of goods. I thought it funny at the time. They had the stuff covered with old sacks. I never saw either of them with a push-cart before."
"That certainly is suspicious."
"Have you notified the police?"
"Yes, I told the officer on the beat as I came along. He's going to send in a report. But if you think those fellows are guilty we had better go after them without delay. Otherwise they'll sell the stuff and clear out."
"I think I know where to look for them," said Nelson.
He was soon into his clothing, and he and Van Pelt hurried to the stand, where they found Paul selling such papers as had come in for the morning trade.
"It's awful," said the small boy. "Such thieves ought to be placed behind the bars."
It was decided that Paul should run his route and then tend the stand, while Nelson and his partner went on a hunt down the Bowery and on the East Side for Darnley and Snocks.
"I can't say when we'll be back, Paul," said Van Pelt. "But until we return you must do the best you can." And this the little lad promised.
Our hero knew that Darnley and Snocks lived not far from each other on a street running toward the East River, and thither he led the way.
"Seen anything of Len Snocks?" he asked of a newsboy he met in the vicinity.
"Yes, I did," answered the boy. "Saw him early this morning."
"Where?"
"Down by the ferry to Brooklyn."
"Was he alone?"
"No; he had Billy Darnley with him."
"Were they carrying anything?"
"Yes, each had a couple of heavy bundles, about all he could manage."
"Did you see them get on the ferry?" questioned George Van Pelt.
"Saw 'em go into the ferryhouse. They must have gone over," answered the newsboy.
A few words more followed, and Nelson and Van Pelt hurried to the ferry and soon found themselves on Fulton Street, one of the main thoroughfares of Brooklyn.
"Now to find them," said our hero. "I'm afraid it's going to prove a big job."
CHAPTER XXII.
A DISAPPOINTMENT
"How shall we strike out?" asked George Van Pelt, as he and our hero came to a halt under the elevated railroad.
"It's more than likely they'll try to sell those things to some stationer or at a second-hand store," answered Nelson. "And the chances are that they'll sell 'em as quick as possible."
"You are right there," answered his partner. "Supposing you take one side of the street and I'll take the other, and we'll ask at the different stores."
This was agreed upon, and soon our hero had visited five stores.
Nobody had seen the thieves or knew anything about them.
"It's no use," he thought, and then entered a sixth establishment, kept by an old man.
"Yes, I saw them," said the old man. "They were here early this morning, and wanted to sell me the things dog-cheap. But I was suspicious of them, so I didn't buy."
"Do you know where they went next?"
"One of them said something about taking the elevated train."
"You didn't watch them?"
"No; I was going to, but a customer took my time."
The old man described both Darnley and Snocks, and also some of the goods offered, so there could not possibly be any mistake.
"I hate thieves," he concluded. "I hope you catch them."
"If we need a witness, will you aid us?" asked Nelson.
"I will."
"Thank you," said Nelson, and left him one of the business cards he and Van Pelt had had printed.
On the corner he beckoned to his partner and told Van Pelt of what he had learned.
"We'll ask the elevated railroad gate-keeper below," said Van Pelt.
But at the station they got no satisfaction.
"I came on an hour ago," said the gate-keeper. "The other man has gone home."
"And you haven't seen 'em?" asked Nelson.
"No. The fact is, so many people come and go we hardly notice anybody."
"That is so," said George Van Pelt, as he and our hero walked away. "Nelson, I am afraid we are stumped."
"It looks like it," said the newsboy soberly.
"What shall we do next?"
"I hardly know, George. I hate to give up. The stuff we lost cost too much money."
"Do you suppose either Darnley or Snocks went home?"
"It's possible."
"We ought to visit their homes and make sure."
The matter was talked over for several minutes, and it was finally agreed that Nelson should visit the homes of the two boys while George Van Pelt returned to the news stand to relieve Paul.
Billy Darnley lived on the fourth floor of a large rear tenement on one of the dirtiest streets of the East Side. To get to the place our hero had to pass through an alleyway filled with rubbish and teeming with neglected children. Hardened as he was to the rougher side of city life he could not help but shudder at the sight.
"Poor things! they are a heap worse off than myself," was his thought.
At a corner of the alleyway he ran across a small girl and one several years older. The little girl was a cripple, and the larger girl was making fun of her deformity.
"Limpy leg! Limpy leg!" she cried shrilly. "Limpy leg, aint you ugly!" At this the cripple began to cry.
"Stop that!" called out Nelson. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. This little girl can't help being a cripple. Perhaps some day you'll be a cripple yourself, and then you won't want anybody to make fun of you." And at this the big girl fell back abashed.
"She always does that," said the cripple. "She's awful mean."
Nelson asked the girl where Billy Darnley lived, and the girl pointed out the rooms. Soon the newsboy was knocking on one of the doors to the apartment.
"Come in," said a rough voice, and Nelson entered, to find himself confronted by a burly man slightly the worse for the rum he had been drinking.
"Is this where Billy Darnley lives?" he asked.
"I'm Billy Darnley," answered the man.
"I mean Billy Darnley, the newsboy."
"That's my son. He lives here, but he aint here now. He's out selling papers."
"Has he been home in the last two or three hours?"
"No."
There was an awkward pause, and the man eyed Nelson curiously.
"What do you want of Billy?" he questioned at last.
"I want to recover some things he stole from my news stand," answered our hero stoutly.
"Things he stole?" cried Darnley senior.
"Yes."
"Are you sure Billy stole them?"
"Yes—he and another boy named Len Snocks."
"When was this?"
"Last night."
"Humph! Tell me all about it."
Nelson did as requested. Before he had finished Darnley senior gave a long yawn.
"Hang that boy!" he observed. "He's going from bad to worse. He will end up on the gallows if he aint careful."
To console himself he got out a black bottle and took a deep drink. Evidently he was not deeply impressed.
"Have you any idea where Billy is now?" asked our hero.
"No. He'll keep shady, I suppose. I can't help you. Go to the police. If he gets hung some day it will be his own fault."
The man turned his back on Nelson as if to end the interview. In a minute more our hero was in the street again.
"A fine father for any boy to have," was his thought. "I reckon one is about as bad as the other, and perhaps both will end up in the electric chair."
CHAPTER XXIII.
AN UNSUCCESSFUL QUEST
From the tenement where Billy Darnley lived Nelson made his way to where Len Snocks resided.
This home in the tenements was in strong contrast to that of the Darnleys. There were but three rooms, but each was as clean and bright as hard work could make them.
A small, trim-looking woman carrying a baby in her arms answered his knock. This proved to be Mrs. Snocks. In the rooms were several other children of various ages.
"No, I haven't seen Len since last night," she said, in reply to our hero's question. "He went off with another boy named Billy Darnley."
"Did he say where he was going or when he would be back?"
"He did not. I am anxious about him, too. He never stayed away all night before. What do you want of him?"
"He and Billy Darnley robbed my news stand last night."
"Robbed your stand!" Mrs. Snocks grew very pale. "Can this be true?"
"Yes, ma'am, it is." And Nelson gave the particulars once more.
"Too bad!" cried the woman, and, dropping on a kitchen chair, she covered her face with her apron.
Nelson saw that she was suffering keenly, and felt sorry for her.
"It's that Darnley boy," she said presently. "He is a bad egg and is leading our Len astray. My husband and I have warned Len time and time again to let Billy alone; but he won't mind, and Billy leads him into all kinds of mischief."
"Well, I'm sorry for you, ma'am, but we have got to have our stuff back."
"How much was it worth?"
"About seventy-five dollars."
"Oh, dear! I'm sure I don't know what to do."
"Is your husband to work?"
"No; he hasn't had any work for several months. Wait; I'll call him."
Mrs. Snocks went to a rear window and called to somebody in the courtyard below. Soon Mr. Snocks appeared. He was an iron molder, but looked far from healthy.
"Stole from your stand," he said, after listening to his wife and Nelson. "This is the worst yet."
"It's Billy Darnley's fault," put in the wife.
"He hasn't any business to go with Billy, Mary. That rascal will lead him to prison."
"You're right there," said our hero.
"I don't know what to do," went on Mr. Snocks, to Nelson. "I'd square this up, only I'm out of work, and haven't more than two or three dollars to my name."
"We have three dollars and twenty-five cents," said the wife. "You can have that." And she brought out a well-worn pocketbook.
Her manner touched the newsboy to the heart.
"No, I won't take your last cent," he said. "You'll need it for yourself and the children. Only if you see Len, try to get back the goods or the money he got for them."
"We'll do that—don't fear," said Mr. Snocks. "And I'll thrash him everlastingly in the bargain."
No more could be accomplished at the Snockses' home, and soon Nelson was on his way back to the stand.
"What luck?" questioned George Van Pelt, as soon as he appeared.
"Not much," he answered, and told his story. "We'll never hear from old Darnley," he added. "But perhaps we'll get something from the Snockses."
"I'm glad you didn't take that woman's last dollar," said Van Pelt. "We're not as hard up as all that, even if we have been almost cleaned out."
Fortunately for the partners they had paid all bills promptly since taking charge of the stand, so their credit was good. On the following morning Van Pelt went around and explained the situation to several wholesale dealers, and also to the news company, and succeeded in getting a fresh supply of goods on thirty and sixty days' time.
"We've got to hustle to make it up," he said.
"Well, I'm in the business to hustle," answered Nelson, with a grim smile. "I never yet was idle, as far back as I can remember."
"Always sold newspapers?"
"Mostly. Once in a while I blacked boots and carried baggage, but not very often."
"Are you related to Sam Pepper?"
"I don't think I am."
"Hasn't he ever told you anything about yourself?"
"He has and again he hasn't. He told me some things that I don't believe are true, George."
"Humph! Well, I wouldn't trust him too much."
"I don't trust him at all, since the time he tried to help Mr. Bulson against Miss Gertrude."
"It's queer that Bulson is so possessed to marry Miss Horton, when she doesn't care for him."
"I guess the reason is that Bulson is afraid Mr. Horton will relent and take Miss Gertrude back, and then she'll come in for half the money, after all. He is so piggish that he wants to get it all."
"Mr. Horton ought to be told how Bulson is acting."
"Miss Gertrude says he is a strange man and won't believe what anybody says about his nephew."
"He must be strange, or he wouldn't turn such a nice young lady as Miss Horton out of doors," said Van Pelt feelingly. He had met Gertrude several times and was much interested in her.
On the week following Mrs. Kennedy was served with a notice to quit her apartments, as the tenement was to be torn down. She and Gertrude hunted up other rooms, not far from Nelson's stand. These were bright and cheerful and a very great improvement over those vacated.
"And I will feel safer," said Gertrude. "For I fancy Homer Bulson knew the other home and often watched me going in and coming out."
Gertrude was right in her surmise. Homer Bulson was watching her very closely and laying his plans to make her his own, in spite of herself.
But when everything was in readiness to make a move, he found to his chagrin that the rooms were empty and the building was being torn down.
"Hang the luck, anyhow!" he muttered sulkily. "Now where in the world shall I look for her?"
He questioned several people in the neighborhood, but nobody seemed to be able to give him any information.
The truth of the matter was Mrs. Kennedy had requested her friends to say nothing to a gentleman in a silk hat who asked about Gertrude, and for this reason they were accordingly mum.
"Never mind, I'll find her sooner or later," Bulson told himself. "And then my next move will surely surprise her."
