Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 141 pages of information about Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks.

“How?” asked Frank, incredulously.

“Wait a minute, and you’ll see.”

Dick left his companion, and went up to the man whom he suspected.

“Ephraim Smith,” said Dick, in a low voice.

The man turned suddenly, and looked at Dick uneasily.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I believe your name is Ephraim Smith,” continued Dick.

“You’re mistaken,” said the man, and was about to move off.

“Stop a minute,” said Dick.  “Don’t you keep your money in the Washington Bank?”

“I don’t know any such bank.  I’m in a hurry, young man, and I can’t stop to answer any foolish questions.”

The boat had by this time reached the Brooklyn pier, and Mr. Ephraim Smith seemed in a hurry to land.

“Look here,” said Dick, significantly; “you’d better not go on shore unless you want to jump into the arms of a policeman.”

“What do you mean?” asked the man, startled.

“That little affair of yours is known to the police,” said Dick; “about how you got fifty dollars out of a greenhorn on a false check, and it mayn’t be safe for you to go ashore.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said the swindler with affected boldness, though Dick could see that he was ill at ease.

“Yes you do,” said Dick.  “There isn’t but one thing to do.  Just give me back that money, and I’ll see that you’re not touched.  If you don’t, I’ll give you up to the first p’liceman we meet.”

Dick looked so determined, and spoke so confidently, that the other, overcome by his fears, no longer hesitated, but passed a roll of bills to Dick and hastily left the boat.

All this Frank witnessed with great amazement, not understanding what influence Dick could have obtained over the swindler sufficient to compel restitution.

“How did you do it?” he asked eagerly.

“I told him I’d exert my influence with the president to have him tried by habeas corpus,” said Dick.

“And of course that frightened him.  But tell me, without joking, how you managed.”

Dick gave a truthful account of what occurred, and then said, “Now we’ll go back and carry the money.”

“Suppose we don’t find the poor countryman?”

“Then the p’lice will take care of it.”

They remained on board the boat, and in five minutes were again in New York.  Going up Wall Street, they met the countryman a little distance from the Custom House.  His face was marked with the traces of deep anguish; but in his case even grief could not subdue the cravings of appetite.  He had purchased some cakes of one of the old women who spread out for the benefit of passers-by an array of apples and seed-cakes, and was munching them with melancholy satisfaction.

“Hilloa!” said Dick.  “Have you found your money?”

“No,” ejaculated the young man, with a convulsive gasp.  “I shan’t ever see it again.  The mean skunk’s cheated me out of it.  Consarn his picter!  It took me most six months to save it up.  I was workin’ for Deacon Pinkham in our place.  Oh, I wish I’d never come to New York!  The deacon, he told me he’d keep it for me; but I wanted to put it in the bank, and now it’s all gone, boo hoo!”

Copyrights
Project Gutenberg
Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
Follow Us on Facebook