asked.
"Gave me two dollars."
"Two dollars! Jest fer hauling him back out of de gutter?"
"I kept him from being run over by a truck."
"Den he oughter give yer ten or twenty."
"Two was more than enough, Billy."
At this Billy Darnley drew down his mouth.
"I would have struck him fer a twenty, sure," he went on.
"You always were greedy, Billy," answered Nelson.
"Do you mean dat fer an insult, Nelse?"
"I mean it for the truth."
"You're gittin' too high-toned fer dis business, Nelse."
"I don't think I am."
"Lend me a dollar of dat money, will yer? I'll pay yer back ter-morrow."
At this Nelson shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Billy, but I'd rather keep my money."
"Are you afraid to trust me?"
"I don't see why I should trust you. You earn as much money as I do."
"You didn't earn dat two dollars."
"The gentleman thought I did."
"He was a soft one."
"He was a very nice man," retorted Nelson promptly.
"O' course you'd stick up fer him. Let me have de dollar."
"What do you want to do with it?"
Now in truth Billy thought of nothing but to have a good time with the money, but he did not deem it prudent to tell Nelson so.
"I—I want to buy myself a new pair of pants," he stammered.
"Your pants are better than mine."
"No, da aint—d'are full o' holes."
"Why don't you sew them up, as I do?"
"I aint no woman, to use a needle. Come, hand over de dollar!" And Billy held out his dirty fingers.
"I shan't let you have it, and that ends it," said Nelson firmly.
He started to move on, but in a moment more Billy Darnley was beside him and had him clutched firmly by the arm.
CHAPTER II.
A QUARREL OVER A DOLLAR
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