Julius, The Street Boy. Alger Horatio Jr.
cars had just stopped at a way station.
Sanders attempted to arise, but his victim seized him by the arm.
“You don’t leave this car till you have surrendered my watch,” he said.
“Let go, or I’ll strike you,” said Sanders, losing his prudence in his anger.
“You can’t get out till you have been searched,” said the conductor. “Who is the boy that saw him take the watch?”
“I did,” said Julius.
“Where did he put it? Did you notice?”
“In his left breast pocket.”
“Show us what you have in that pocket.”
Sanders hesitated? and then drew out a handkerchief.
“There, I hope you are satisfied,” he said.
Meantime his neighbor, pressing his hand against the pocket on the outside, exclaimed triumphantly:
“He’s got the watch. I can feel it.”
The thief uttered a profane ejaculation, and made a desperate effort to arise, but three men threw themselves upon him, two holding him down, while the other drew out the watch and chain, and handed them to their owner.
“Now will you let me go?” demanded Sanders, doggedly. He felt that it would do no good to indulge in further protestations of innocence.
“No,” said the conductor. “Gentlemen, will you guard him till we reach the next station? Then I will place him in the hands of an officer.”
“Boy,” said Sanders, turning around, and glaring fiercely at Julius, “I shan’t forget you. Some time I’ll make you repent what you’ve done to-day.”
“Don’t mind him, my lad,” said the stout man, elated by the recovery of his property. “You’ve done exactly right. But how came you to suspect this man?”
“Because I knew him,” said Julius.
Here Sanders turned around, and scanned our hero’s face sharply.
“That’s a lie!” he said.
“It’s not a lie, Mr. Ned Sanders,” said Julius. “I’ve seen you more than once.”
Again Sanders scanned his features sharply. This time a light dawned upon him.
“I know you now,” he said; “you’re Jack Morgan’s boy.”
“I was,” said Julius.
“Have you left him?”
“Yes.”
“Where are you going?”
“Out West.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t want to tell me.”
“No, I don’t. I don’t care about receiving a visit from you.”
“I’ll hunt you up, and pay off old debts. I shouldn’t be in this scrape but for you,” said Sanders, vindictively.
He relapsed into a moody silence, and said nothing more while in the car. At the next station, which was an important place, two officers were summoned, who took him into custody. But he managed to elude their vigilance some hours later and escaped to New York.
CHAPTER V.
JULIUS IS REWARDED
After the pickpocket had been removed from the car, his intended victim turned in his seat, and addressed Julius.
“Come and sit by me,” he said; “I want to speak with you.”
Julius readily accepted the invitation.
“My boy,” said the stout gentleman, “you have done me a great service.”
“I am glad of it,” said Julius.
“You must know that this watch and chain, which but for you I should have lost, were bought for me, in Switzerland, by a son who has since died. They are valuable in themselves, but they are five times as valuable to me because they were a last gift from him.”
“I am glad Ned didn’t get off with ’em,” said Julius.
“You seem to know this man,” said the other, with some curiosity.
“Oh, yes, sir, I know him like a brick.”
The common expression is “like a book”; but that would hardly have implied any close knowledge on the part of Julius, for he knew next to nothing of books. Probably the phrase he did use was suggested by the other.
“Is he a professional pickpocket?”
“Oh, yes, that’s the way he makes a livin’.”
“Then how do you come to know him?”
“Oh, he used to come and see Jack.”
“Who’s Jack?”
“Jack Morgan—the man I used to live with.”
“Jack didn’t have very respectable friends, then, I should judge.”
“Ned and he was pretty thick. They used to do business together.”
“Was Jack a pickpocket, also?”
“He didn’t do much that way; he was too clumsy. He broke into houses.”
“What! was he a burglar?”
“Yes.”
“Do you mean to say that you lived with a burglar?” asked the stout gentleman, in surprise.
“Yes,” said Julius, unconcerned.
“And did you help him, too?” demanded the other, suspiciously.
“No, I didn’t,” said Julius. “I didn’t like the business. Besides, I didn’t want to be sent over to the island. I blacked boots, and such things.”
“That is a much better way of getting a living,” said his companion, approvingly.
“So I think,” said Julius; “but it ain’t quite so easy.”
“I think you are mistaken. An honest life is the easiest in the end. Where is Jack now?”
“Oh, he’s in the Tombs. He was took up for burglary of a house in Madison Avenue. I guess he’ll be sent up for five or ten years.”
“That won’t be very easy, or pleasant.”
“No,” said Julius. “I’m glad I ain’t in Jack’s shoes.”
“I hope, my lad, you are in no danger of following the example of your evil associates.”
“No,” said Julius. “I’m goin’ to be respectable.”
“An excellent determination. How do you happen to be traveling?”
“Oh, I’m goin’ out West.”
“What made you think of that?”
“Mr. O’Connor—he’s the superintendent of the Newsboys’ Lodging House—was goin’ to take some boys out, and get ’em places; and he offered to take me.”
“Are all these boys I see in the car going out too?”
“Yes, sir, all of ’em, and there’s some more in the car behind.”
“Where in the West do you expect to go?”
“I don’t know,” said Julius. “Is the West a big place?”
“I should say it was,” said the other, with a laugh. “It’s a very large place.”
“Were you ever there?” asked Julius, desiring to hear something about his place of destination.
“I live there—in Wisconsin. Did you ever