Fred Halsey was a sturdy youth of sixteen whose father had died when he
was but ten years old. He was a manly little fellow who knew how to take
care of himself in his career of newsboy. He had laughing blue eyes and
a handsome face, while his mouth showed that he possessed a dauntless
spirit. His mother died long before his father did, and he and his
little sister lived with an aunt--his mother's sister--who was a
childless widow. She was a mother to him and Adah, who was two years
younger than Fred, a pretty blue-eyed little miss with golden hair and
pearly teeth.
She did washing, and Fred sold papers, while Adah was a cash girl in one
of the big stores on Grand street. Even then it was but a poor living
for them in the great city, where grasping landlords demanded rent money
with the regularity of the almanac. When Fred Halsey went out of the
bank with ten dollars in his pocket and $250 more in the bank behind
him, he had a feeling in his heart he never had there before. The whole
world seemed opened to him. Rich bankers and brokers had shaken hands
with him and praised him for what he had done.
"And I'm rich now myself," he said to himself, as he darted up toward
Broadway. "Whew! I'm rich! I'm rich!"
"Hello, Fred!"
"Hello, Bob! Where are you going?"
"Up to the telegraph office."
"I'm going that way, too," and he went along with Bob Newcombe, a
messenger boy in Broker Manson's office, who was his chum and friend,
and about the same age as himself.
"Sold all your papers?" Bob asked.
"Yes, all I am going to sell to-day,"
"Made enough to stop on, eh?"
"Yes."
Bob laughed and remarked:
"If I had a hundred dollars I could make three hundred in a week."
Fred started.
"How?" he asked.
"Big deal going on in the Stock Exchange. Heard 'em fixing it up in the
office this morning."
"What is it?"
"Corner in B. & H."
Fred had been selling papers in Wall Street long enough to be familiar
with all the terms used by brokers and bankers. He knew all about "puts"
and "calls," "bulls" and "bears," and had read eagerly the stories of
fortunes won or lost in the mad whirl of speculation down there.
"Sure you could make it, Bob?" he finally asked of the messenger boy.
"Of course I am. I've seen it done many a time. When three or four big
brokers club together to boom a stock it booms, and then the lambs lose
their fleece."
"But wouldn't you be a lamb and lose your fleece, too?"
"No. I wouldn't buy when it had boomed. I'd buy before and sell when it
went up."
They entered the telegraph office, and Bob sent off the message he had
brought, after which they went out on the street again.
"What's B. & H. going at now?" Fred asked.
"It's going at forty-seven. It will be up to fifty to-morrow when the
Stock Exchange closes."
"How do you know that?"
"Mr. Manson is going to buy up all the stock. He has millions behind
him. The stock will go up, up, up, till it topples over on the lambs.
Oh, I've seen it done a dozen times. If I had one hundred dollars, I'd
put it up on ten percent margin--every dollar of it--and scoop in three
hundred dollars inside of a week."
"Say, Bob, I've got the 'scads.'"
"Eh! Huh?" and Bob stopped and stared at him.
"I've got the 'chink,' the 'rhino,' the hundred dollars," and Fred told
him the story of what had taken place in the bank but a short half hour
before.
Bob was staggered.
"Git a hundred quick, Fred. Mr. Tabor will buy on a margin for us."
"Come on. I'll do it," and Fred hurried back to the bank and sent word
in to Mr. Barron that he wanted $100 more of his money.
It was sent out to him, and he and Bob ran round to Broker Tabor's
office. It lacked but ten minutes of three o'clock.
"Mr. Tabor, will you buy on a margin for us?" Bob asked the broker.
"Hello, Halsey!" exclaimed the broker, on seeing Fred.
"Hello, sir," returned Fred, seeing he was one of the brokers who had
given him the money in Barron's office.
"Yes. What is it you want bought?" the broker asked Bob.
"B. & H., sir."
"All right; where's your money?"
"Here it is," said Fred, handing him the money.
"Going into business, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, what name shall I use?" and Tabor took up his pen to write a
receipt for the money.
"Halsey & Co.," said Bob. "I don't know whether Mr. Manson would like to
have me do such a thing, so put it that way. It's Fred's money, too."
The broker laughed, wrote the receipt, and handed it to Fred, with the
remark:
"You will soon learn how easy it is to lose money in Wall Street."
"When a man loses, somebody wins," Fred replied, and Tabor never forgot
the remark, for he had reason to remember it ere he was a year older.
The two boys went out and Bob said, when they reached the sidewalk:
"I've got to go back to the office, but won't have to stay long as it is
nearly three o'clock. Come along and wait for me."
Fred went with him and waited downstairs at the street entrance for him
while he was standing there. Manson, whose name had been forged to the
check which Fred had been instrumental in stopping, came down the
stairs, accompanied by a tall, white-haired old man.
"Ah! There's the boy now, general," said Manson, on seeing Fred. "He
threw the villain twice and then held him with the revolver till others
secured him."
"Well, really, my lad," said the general, extending his hand to Fred. "I
honor courage wherever I find it. Shake hands with me. I am glad to know
you."
Fred shook hands with the old man without uttering a word, the meeting
taking him quite by surprise. Just as he was going to speak several
brokers came up and shook hands with the general, and he was forgotten.
In a little while Bob came down, and the two went away together.
"See here, Fred," Bob said, "we must not say a word about this thing. I
got the tip in the office, you know."
"Yes, I know."
"At 47 one thousand will get 21 shares." Bob continued. "Par value is
100. They will try to run it in to that; if they do, we'll make more
than $300."
"But if it goes backwards or down instead of up, we won't know what hit
us," remarked Fred.
"That's true. But it's going up," said Bob, with a good deal of
emphasis. "I have seen it done before, and know just how it works."
They walked up to Broadway and turned toward the City Hall. All the
newsboys knew them, and, as a late edition of the afternoon papers had
an account of the arrest of the forger, in which Fred's name was
mentioned, some of the boys ran to him to ask him about it. The account
said nothing about the money that had been given Fred, so he felt
relieved. Of course he had to stop and tell them about it. While he was
doing so a man came by and asked:
"Do any of you know a newsboy named Fred Halsey?"
"Yes, I do," replied Fred very promptly, ere any of the others could do
so.
"Where can I find him?"
"Oh, he's around somewhere, He never stops long in one place," and he
winked at the boys as he spoke.
They all understood at once that Fred did not wish them to give him
away, and not one would have done so under any circumstances.
"I'd like to give one of you a dollar to find him and point him out to
me."
"Show us your dollar and I'll tell you how to find him yourself," said
Fred.
"Here's your money," and the man handed him a dollar bill. Fred took it
and said:
"That cop over there by the Astor House corner is his dad. Just go over
there and stand there a while and you'll see him come up to the old man.
He meets him there about this time every day."
The man, who seemed to be in earnest, seemed half inclined to doubt what
Fred had told him.
"Is that so, boys?" he asked, appealing to the boys.
"Yes!" the entire crowd sung out.
He turned away and walked over to the Astor House corner.
"What's yer givin' 'im, Fred?" one of the boys asked.
"Whist!" half whispered Fred. "He's a pal of that forger and is looking
for me to do me up. Come on and we'll eat up this dollar," and he led
the way to a fruit stand up beyond the City Hall, where he spent the
money the man had given him for bananas for the boys.
"Well, that was the slickest thing I ever saw done," said Bob. "Why
don't you have him arrested and sent to join the other fellow?"
"Got no proof on him."
"You said he was his pal."
"Yes, but I couldn't prove it, only my word for it, that's all. He wants
to lay me out for giving the snap away."
"How do you know he does?"
"Do you think he wants to thank me, give me a new suit of clothes and
invite me to dine with him at Del's?" and Fred gave the least tinge of a
sneer to his tones as he spoke.
"Well, hardly," Bob replied, laughing good-naturedly. "It is well enough
to know what the fellow wants, though."
Fred did not reply, and Bob added:
"He'll find you out, anyway."
"Yes, so he will. Better go back and see what he wants. I'll go with
you. He can't do us both up."
"Come on. Let's go and see if he is there," and the two young friends
turned and made their way back to the Astor House where they had sent
him.