Nelson The Newsboy

"Then I'll make that do," said our hero.

He took all of Paul's money and started into the crowd, to get papers for his friend and himself.

He was struggling to get to the front when, on chancing to look to one side, he caught sight of Billy Darnley, the newsboy bully who had robbed him of the five dollars.

CHAPTER XII.

NELSON RECOVERS SOME MONEY

"Billy Darnley!" gasped our hero, in astonishment.

The bully saw Nelson and instantly ducked his head. He, too, was after newspapers, but now thought it best to quit the scene.

"I didn't t'ink he'd be here so early," he muttered, and pushed to the rear of the crowd. Once in the open, he took to his heels and dashed down Frankfort Street in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge arches.

But Nelson was not to be "lost" so readily, and he was out of the crowd almost as soon as the bully.

"I'm after Billy Darnley!" he shouted to Paul. "Come on!"

There now ensued a race which was highly exciting, even if not of long duration. Darnley was swift of foot, and the fear of what might follow lent speed to his flying feet. But Nelson was also a good runner.

At the corner of Rose Street were a number of heavy trucks. Darnley managed to pass these, but it took time. When our hero came up, the trucks blocked the street completely.

In and out Nelson dodged among the trucks, between the wheels and under the very hoofs of the heavy horses. In a twinkle he was clear of the mass and again making after Darnley, who was now flying toward Vandewater Street.

At this point there is a large archway under the approach to the Brooklyn Bridge, and toward this archway the bully directed his footsteps. But Nelson was now close at hand, and underneath the archway he succeeded in reaching the big newsboy, catching him firmly by the arm.

"Lemme go!" growled Billy Darnley. "Lemme go, Nelse, or I'll hammer yer good."

"Maybe I'll do the hammering," retorted Nelson. "Where's my five dollars?"

"I aint got no money of yours."

"You have, and I want you to hand it over."

"Aint got it, I say. Lemme go!"

Instead of complying our hero grasped the bully by the throat and ran him up against the stonework of the arch.

"I want my money," he said sternly. "If you don't give it to me–"

"Let up—yer—yer chokin' me!" gasped Billy Darnley.

"Will you give me the money?"

"No."

The bully struggled fiercely, and so did Nelson. Down went both on the pavement and rolled over and over. But our hero's blood was up, and he put forth every ounce of strength he possessed. At last he had Darnley flat on his back, and then he sat astride of the bully.

"Now will you give up?" he panted. "Or must I hammer you some more?"

"Oh, Nelson! have you got him?" asked Paul, running up.

"Yes, and he's got to give me my money."

"A fight! a fight!" cried some of the boys who began to collect.

"This aint a fight," said Nelson loudly. "He's a thief, and stole five dollars from me. He's got to give it up."

He caught Darnley by the throat again, and now the bully was only too glad to give in.

"Let—let up!" he gasped. "Let up!"

"Will you give me my money?"

"I've only got two dollars and ten cents."

"Hand it over."

"Let me up first."

"Not much!"

With something like a groan Darnley brought out the money and passed it over.

"Now I'm going to search you," went on Nelson, in as determined a voice as ever.

"No, no!" pleaded Darnley in alarm. He did not like the crowd that was gathering.

"Yes, search him, Nelse," said a boy named Marks.

"That's right, search him," put in another newsboy, named Wilson. "I think he stole something from me last week."

In spite of his protestations Billy Darnley's pockets were turned inside out.

There were brought to light another dollar, which our hero also pocketed, a pearl-handled pocket-knife, a silver badge, and half a dozen other articles.

"My knife!" shouted Nat Marks. "Boys, you all know it."

"So it is, Nat," said Frank Wilson. "And this is my badge—the one I won in the newsboys' competition last month."

The boys took the things, and then gathered around Billy Darnley with clenched fists. Nelson slipped outside of the crowd, and Paul went with him.

In vain Billy Darnley tried to clear himself of the other lads. He struck one boy down, but the others pounced upon him front and rear, and soon had him again on his back. It looked like a football scrimmage, but the ball in this case seemed to be the bully's head. For ten minutes the tussle went on, and when at last the cry of "Cop! cop! run for it!" arose, Darnley found himself with his nose bleeding, two teeth loose, and his left eye all but closed. Moreover, his coat was torn to shreds.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded the policeman.

"They all piled on top of me!" whined Darnley, looking the picture of misery.

"He's a thief!" exclaimed one of the other boys, but from a safe distance. "He stole something from three of the boys, he did. He didn't git nuthin' but what was comin' to him, officer."

"That's right; he ought to be locked up," put in another boy, also from a safe distance.

"Begone with you!" said the policeman sternly, and gave Darnley a shove. "If I see any more fighting I'll run you all in," and he walked away, twirling his club as he did so.

"Oh, me eye!" groaned Darnley, and limped away, a sadder if not a wiser youth. It was many a day before he dared to show himself in Newspaper Row again.

"Well, I got back three dollars and ten cents," remarked Nelson, as he and Paul walked up Frankfort Street, "so I won't need your loan. But, just the same, I am much obliged." And he passed over the money.

"I wish you had gotten it all, Nelson," said Paul earnestly. "Oh, but didn't they just pitch into Billy! And it served him right, too."

"Yes, I showed him up in his true colors," returned our hero.

He soon had the papers he and Paul wanted, and then the pair separated, and our hero hurried over to his old stand on Broadway.

His clothing had suffered considerably from the encounter with the bully and, though he brushed himself off as best he could, he felt that he made far from a handsome appearance.

"I must look better than this before I call on Miss Horton," he mused. "If I don't, she'll take me for a regular tramp."

He wondered if there would be anything in the newspapers about the robbery in Fifth Avenue, and snatched a few moments to scan several sheets. But not a word appeared.

"I guess they are too high-toned to let it get into print," he reasoned. "Well, it's a good thing. I guess it would almost kill Miss Gertrude to see it in the papers."

When Nelson got back to the lunch-room he found business was poor, and he expected to see Sam Pepper ill-humored in consequence. On the contrary, however, Pepper was all smiles, and even hummed a tune to himself as he waited on his customers.

"Something has happened to tickle him," thought the boy. "Or else he's got a new plan on hand."

"How is the sick friend—any better?" he asked Pepper.

"Much better, Nelson. And what do you think? He's loaned me money to turn this place into a first-class café. Don't you think that will pay better than a common lunch-room?"

"I don't know. I'd rather be in the lunch business than running a saloon."

"I wouldn't. I want to make money," responded Pepper.

"What are you going to do?"

"Rip out that old show window and put in a new and elegant glass front, and put in a new bar and buffet. It will be as fine as anything around here when it's finished."

"I wish I had a friend to loan me money."

"What would you do with it?"

"I'd buy out a good news stand. There's money in that."

"So there is." Sam Pepper mused for a moment. "Maybe my friend will advance enough for that, too."

"Thank you, but you needn't bother him," said Nelson coldly.

"And why not, if I can get the rocks?"

"I'd rather get the money myself."

"Won't the money be good enough?" demanded Pepper, his face darkening.

"I'd rather know where it came from," returned the boy.

The two were in the kitchen at the time, and Sam Pepper had a frying pan in his hand.

"See here, Nelson, I'll whack you over the head with this, if you talk like that!" exclaimed the man, flying into a rage.

"You won't whack me more than once, Sam Pepper."

"Won't I?"

"No, you won't."

"Who is master around here, I'd like to know?"

"You are, but I'm not your slave."

"You talk as if you knew something," went on Pepper, growing suddenly suspicious.

"Perhaps I do know something," replied the newsboy, and then hurried into the dining room to wait on a customer who had just entered.

"I'll have it out with you later," muttered Pepper savagely. "If you know too much, I'll find a way to keep your mouth closed."

CHAPTER XIII.

A QUESTION OF BUSINESS

Sam Pepper got no chance to talk to Nelson further that day. As soon as the noon trade was over, our hero hurried off to sell afternoon papers. This time he went up the Bowery, to where Mrs. Kennedy kept her fruit-and-candy stand. It was a small stand, and the entire stock was not worth over ten dollars, but the old woman made enough to keep the wolf from the door, and she was content.

"I was after thinking you'd come," she said, smiling broadly. "I knew you'd want to know about the young lady."

"How is she?"

"I left her this morning, sorrowful enough, I can tell ye that, Nelson. She don't know how to turn. She thinks she might take in sewing, or something like that, but, bless ye! how much would she make at that? Why, thim Jews that work night and day hardly make enough to keep 'em from starving!"

"Yes, I know it, and it's a shame," said the boy. "They get about five cents for a pair of pants and ten cents for a coat, and some of 'em make shirts for three and four cents apiece. I don't see how they stand it. No, she wouldn't earn anything at that."

"I was a-telling her of Gladys Summers, who sells flowers up on Fourteenth Street and at the theater doors, but she said she didn't want to go out on the street. She's afraid some of her friends would see her, I suppose."

"She hasn't any friends—'cepting you and me, Mrs. Kennedy. We've got to do for her."

"It's little I can offer, Nelson; ye know that well enough. She can stay under my roof, but to board her–"

"I'll pay her board, until she finds something to do. I'll give you three dollars a week for keeping her."

"Will ye now? Nelson, you're more than kind-hearted. But where will ye be after getting the money?"

"I'll earn it," he answered resolutely. "I earn a dollar and over a day now, and I know I can make it more, if I try real hard."

He soon left the fruit-and-candy stand and started in to sell papers. He felt that he had a new responsibility on his shoulders, and he determined to do his best. Soon his efforts began to tell, and by five o'clock he was sold out, and the day's earnings amounted to a dollar and thirty-two cents.

"Half for Miss Horton and half for myself," he murmured. "That's the way it's got to be, after this."

He was soon on his way to the tenement house in which Mrs. Kennedy's rooms were located. Ascending two flights of stairs, he knocked on one of the doors.

"Who is it?" came from Gertrude Horton.

"It's Nelson."

"Oh!" And instantly the door was unlocked.

A glance at the girl's face told the boy that she had been crying. More than this he saw she was far from well, and the hand she gave him was as hot as fire.

"Oh, Miss Horton, you're sick!" he exclaimed. "What's the matter?"

"I have a severe headache," she answered. "I think it will pass away soon."

She sank down on a dilapidated lounge, and he took a kitchen chair. He saw that she trembled from head to foot, and that she had been worrying ever since he had left her.

"You mustn't worry too much," he said, as kindly as he could. "Mrs. Kennedy says you can stay here as long as you feel like it."

"But she is poor, Nelson, and I—I haven't any money, excepting what you gave me, and you must take that back—you need it."

"No, I don't need it, Miss Gertrude. See, I've got a lot of money now. I collared that thief and made him give up what he had left, over three dollars—and I've earned the rest selling papers. That's why I didn't come before. I've fixed it up with Mrs. Kennedy, and you can stay just as long as you please."

"And you are going to pay her?" cried the girl warmly. "Oh, Nelson! you are indeed good-hearted. But, no; I must support myself."

"Well, you needn't hurry about it. I can earn enough for both of us just now—and that's what I am going to do. Why shouldn't I? It was my fault that your uncle put you out."

"No, Nelson; the fault, if it was a fault, was my own. The matter was of long standing. Homer Bulson had wished to marry me for a long time, but I have constantly refused him. Now he has gotten my uncle to side with him. They expect to bring me to terms, I suppose. More than likely my uncle thought I would come back to-day, to do as he wishes."

"I wouldn't go back."

"I shall not. I have made up my mind fully. I will support myself, and Homer Bulson can have Uncle Mark's whole estate, if he wishes it. Surely, in such a big city as this there is something I can do."

"I wouldn't go at sewing—it don't pay."

"What does pay—that I can do?"

"You might get a position in a store. Or maybe you know how to play the piano?" went on our hero suddenly.

"I do know how to play. I took instructions for several years, and have played at private concerts, in Philadelphia."

"Then you can give piano lessons."

"But where can I get pupils?"

"We'll advertise in the papers," went on the newsboy, with some importance. "I know an advertising man down on the Row. He says anybody can do business by advertising. I'll ask him about it. Of course you'll want to give lessons at folks' houses—being as you haven't a piano of your own."

"Yes," answered Gertrude, and her face brightened greatly. "I could do that, and I would go cheaply first, to get a start."

"Do you want to put your name in the advertisement?"

"No, have the letters sent to the newspaper offices, and sign the advertisement–" Gertrude paused in thought.

"Weber," finished Nelson. "That's the name of a swell piano, isn't it?"

"It might be too grand for the folks we wish to reach," said Gertrude. "Sign it 'Earnest.'"

"And how much will the lessons be?"

"I ought to get at least fifty cents."

"Then I'll tell the advertising man that. Oh, he's a dandy to write the ads up—makes 'em look like regular bargains!" added the boy enthusiastically.

Nelson remained at the rooms a while longer, and then hurried to Sam Pepper's place. To his surprise Pepper had locked up, and on the window was the sign:

"Closed for repairs. Will open as a first-class café in about two weeks."

"He hasn't lost any time in going ahead," thought our hero. "I wonder where he is?"

"Sam's out of town," called out a bootblack who had some chairs close by. "Told me to give you this." And he passed over an envelope, containing a sheet of paper and the store key. On the sheet was written:

"Am going away for two or three days on business. A man will be here at ten o'clock to-morrow morning to measure the place for new fixtures. You stay around while he is here. Then you keep the place locked up until I get back."

"Gone away for two or three days," thought Nelson. "I wonder what he is up to now?"

He went inside, and saw at once that many of the old fixtures had been removed, and that the little kitchen in the rear had been turned almost inside out. The living apartment, however, was as it had been, excepting that Sam Pepper had used it for packing purposes, and the floor was strewn with bits of paper and some excelsior.

"If I'm to stay here, I might as well clean up," thought our hero, and set to work with a broom. "And then I'll take an hour off and clean and mend my clothes."

In cleaning up Nelson came across several letters, which were old and mussed. Whether Sam Pepper had thought to throw them away or not, he did not know. To make sure, he picked the letters up and looked them over.

"Hullo!" he cried. "Here's more of a mystery."

The letters were addressed to Pepperill Sampson and were signed Mark Horton. The majority of them concerned some orders for dry goods to be shipped to various Western cities, but there was one which was not of that nature. This ran in part as follows:

"I have watched your doings closely for three weeks, and I am now satisfied that you are no longer working for my interest, but in the interest of rival concerns. More than that, I find that you are putting down sums to your expense account which do not belong there. The books for the past month show that you are behind over a hundred and fifty dollars. At this rate I cannot help but wonder how far behind you must be on the year and two months you have been with our house.

"You can consider yourself discharged from this date. Our Mr. Smith will come on immediately and take charge of your samples. Should you attempt to make any trouble for him or for us, I will immediately take steps to prosecute you. You need never apply to our house for a recommendation, for it will not be a satisfactory one."

The letter was dated twelve years back, and had been sent to Pepperill Sampson while he was stopping in Cleveland. Nelson read the communication twice before he put it away.

Who was Pepperill Sampson? The name sounded as if it might belong to Sam Pepper. Were the two one and the same person?

"They must be the same," thought Nelson. "Sam was once a commercial traveler after he gave up the sea, and I've heard him speak of Cleveland and other Western towns. But to think he once worked for Mark Horton!" He scratched his head reflectively. "Let me see, what did Sam say about the man he wanted me to rob? That he had helped the man who had shot my father. Is there really something in this? And if there is, what can Mark Horton know about the past?"

CHAPTER XIV.

BULSON RECEIVES A SETBACK

The mystery was too much for Nelson, and at last he put the letters on a shelf and finished the cleaning. Then he sat down to mend his clothing, and never did a seamstress work more faithfully than did this newsboy. The garments mended, he brushed them carefully.

"There, they look a little better, anyway," he told himself. "And sooner or later I'll have a new suit."

Having finished his toilet, he walked down to Newspaper Row. The tall buildings were now a blaze of lights, and many men of business were departing for their homes. But the newsboy found his friend in his office, a little box of a place on an upper floor of the World building.

The advertising man had always taken an interest in our hero, and he readily consented to transact the business gratis. The advertisements were written out to the boy's satisfaction, and Nelson paid two dollars to have them inserted in several papers the next day and that following.

"If the young lady is a good teacher, I might get her to give my little girl lessons," said Mr. Lamson, as Nelson was leaving.

"I know she's all right, sir," answered the boy. "Just give her a trial and see. She's a real lady, too, even if she is down on her luck."

"Then let her call on my wife to-morrow morning. I'll speak to my wife about it to-night."

"I will, sir, and thank you very much, Mr. Lamson." And our hero went off, greatly pleased. Late as it was, he walked up to Mrs. Kennedy's rooms again. This time the old Irishwoman herself let him in.

"Sure and it's Nelson," she said.

"I've got good news, Miss Gertrude," he said, on entering. "I put the advertisements in the papers through Mr. Lamson, and he told me that you might call on his wife to-morrow morning about giving his little girl lessons."

"Hear that now!" exclaimed Mrs. Kennedy proudly. "Sure, and it takes Nelson to do things, so it does! It meself wishes I had such a b'y."

"I am very thankful," said the girl. "Have you the address?"

"Yes, here it is, on the back of his business card. I know you'll like the place, and maybe they can put you in the way of other places."

"Av course," said Mrs. Kennedy. "Before I had rheumatism I wint out washing, and wan place always brought me another, from some rilative or friend of the family."

"I will go directly after breakfast," said Gertrude. "And I hope I shall prove satisfactory."

Knowing the girl must be tired, Nelson did not stay long, and as soon as he had departed Mrs. Kennedy made Gertrude retire. Happily for the girl her headache was now much better, and she slept soundly.

In the morning she helped Mrs. Kennedy prepare their frugal repast. As the old Irishwoman had said, she was troubled with rheumatism, and could not get around very well. So Gertrude insisted upon clearing the table and washing the dishes.

"But, sure, and a lady like you aint used to this work," remonstrated Mrs. Kennedy.

"I mean to get used to it," answered Gertrude. "I mean to fight my way through and put up with what comes."

Mr. Lamson's home was over a mile away, but not wishing to spend the carfare Gertrude walked the distance.

She was expected, and found Mrs. Lamson a nice lady, who occupied a flat of half a dozen rooms on a quiet and respectable side street. She played several selections, two from sight, which the lady of the house produced.

"That is very good indeed, Miss Horton," said Mrs. Lamson. "You read music well. Little Ruth can begin at once, and you can give her a lesson once a week. Ruth, this is Miss Horton, your new music-teacher."

A girl of nine came shyly forward and shook hands. Soon Gertrude was giving her first lesson in music. It was rather long, but Ruth did not mind it. Then Mrs. Lamson paid the fifty cents, and Gertrude went away.

"She's awfully nice," said Ruth to her mamma. "I know I shall like her."

"She is certainly a lady," was Mrs. Lamson's comment. "It is easy to see that by her breeding."

A new look shone in Gertrude's eyes as she hurried down the street. In her pocket was the first money she had ever earned in her life. She felt a spirit of independence that was as delightful as it was novel.

She had already seen her advertisements in two of the papers, and she trusted they would bring her enough pupils to fill her time. She felt that she could easily give five or six lessons a day. If she could get ten or twelve pupils, that would mean five or six dollars per week, and if she could get twenty pupils it would mean ten dollars.

"I wish I could get the twenty. Then I could help Nelson. He is so very kind, I would like to do something in return for him," was her thought.

The weather was so pleasant she decided to take a little walk. She did not know much about the lower portion of the city, and walked westward until she reached Broadway, not far from where our hero was in the habit of selling morning papers.

Gertrude was looking into the show window of a store, admiring some pretty pictures, when she felt a tap on her shoulder, and turning, found herself face to face with Homer Bulson.

"Gertrude!" exclaimed the young man. "I have been looking high and low for you! Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"That is my business, Mr. Bulson," she answered stiffly.

"Why, Gertrude, you are not going to be angry at me, are you?"

"Why shouldn't I be angry? Haven't you made enough trouble for me?"

"I haven't made any trouble—you made that yourself," he answered, somewhat ruffled by her tone.

"I do not think so."

"Uncle Mark is very much upset over your disappearance."

"Does he wish me to come back?" she questioned eagerly.

"No, I can't say that," answered Homer Bulson smoothly. "But he doesn't want you to suffer. He said, if I saw you, I should give you some money."

"Thank you, but I can take care of myself."

"Have you money?"

"I can take care of myself; that is enough."

"Why don't you let me take care of you, Gertrude?"

"Because I do not like you, Mr. Bulson. How is Uncle Mark to-day?"

"About as usual. You must have upset him very much. Of course I don't believe you took any money out of his safe," went on Bulson. "I guess the guilty party was that young rascal who called on you."