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.

Travis saw that he was getting himself into a tight place; but his self-possession did not desert him.

“I thought I must give my brother’s name,” he answered.

“What is your own name?”

“Henry Hunter.”

“Can you bring any one to testify that the statement you are making is correct?”

“Yes, a dozen if you like,” said Travis, boldly.  “Give me the book, and I’ll come back this afternoon.  I didn’t think there’d be such a fuss about getting out a little money.”

“Wait a moment.  Why don’t your brother come himself?”

“Because he’s sick.  He’s down with the measles,” said Travis.

Here the cashier signed to Dick to rise and show himself.  Our hero accordingly did so.

“You will be glad to find that he has recovered,” said the cashier, pointing to Dick.

With an exclamation of anger and dismay, Travis, who saw the game was up, started for the door, feeling that safety made such a course prudent.  But he was too late.  He found himself confronted by a burly policeman, who seized him by the arm, saying, “Not so fast, my man.  I want you.”

“Let me go,” exclaimed Travis, struggling to free himself.

“I’m sorry I can’t oblige you,” said the officer.  “You’d better not make a fuss, or I may have to hurt you a little.”

Travis sullenly resigned himself to his fate, darting a look of rage at Dick, whom he considered the author of his present misfortune.

“This is your book,” said the cashier, handing back his rightful property to our hero.  “Do you wish to draw out any money?”

“Two dollars,” said Dick.

“Very well.  Write an order for the amount.”

Before doing so, Dick, who now that he saw Travis in the power of the law began to pity him, went up to the officer, and said,—­

“Won’t you let him go?  I’ve got my bank-book back, and I don’t want anything done to him.”

“Sorry I can’t oblige you,” said the officer; “but I’m not allowed to do it.  He’ll have to stand his trial.”

“I’m sorry for you, Travis,” said Dick.  “I didn’t want you arrested.  I only wanted my bank-book back.”

“Curse you!” said Travis, scowling vindictively.  “Wait till I get free.  See if I don’t fix you.”

“You needn’t pity him too much,” said the officer.  “I know him now.  He’s been to the Island before.”

“It’s a lie,” said Travis, violently.

“Don’t be too noisy, my friend,” said the officer.  “If you’ve got no more business here, we’ll be going.”

He withdrew with the prisoner in charge, and Dick, having drawn his two dollars, left the bank.  Notwithstanding the violent words the prisoner had used towards himself, and his attempted robbery, he could not help feeling sorry that he had been instrumental in causing his arrest.

“I’ll keep my book a little safer hereafter,” thought Dick.  “Now I must go and see Tom Wilkins.”

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