JERRY HEARS AN ASTONISHING STATEMENT.
When the footpad, for the fellow was nothing less, attacked Jerry, our
hero felt that he had a tough struggle before him.
The rascal's grasp on the young oarsman's throat was light, however, and
Jerry quickly shook it off.
In the meantime the westerner began to struggle and shout at the top of
his voice:
"Help! Police! police!"
In vain the fellow who held him tried to stop his cries. They grew louder,
and soon footsteps were heard approaching.
Jerry received a savage blow on the chest and struck out in return,
hitting the footpad in the chin. Then the two clinched, and both rolled to
the pavement.
Jerry's assailant was a strong man and he was slowly but surely getting
the best of the youth when three men put in an appearance. They were
heavy-set individuals and were followed by a policeman.
"What's up here?"
"Don't kill that boy!"
"He is a thief!" cried Jerry. "He has that man's diamond pin."
"That's right," put in the westerner, who had managed to turn and catch
hold of his assailant. "This fellow is his mate. They just tackled me when
the boy came to my help."
"It is a falsehood," roared the footpad who had attacked our hero.
Saying this, he arose and tried to sneak away. But Jerry tripped him up,
sending him headlong, and before he could rise the policeman had him
handcuffed.
While this was going on the westerner and two of the new arrivals managed
to make a prisoner of the other footpad. He used some terrible language,
but this did not avail him.
"I know them," said the policeman, after the capture was effected. "They
are Hungry Pete and Jack the Slick. They are wanted for a burglary at
Sheepshead Bay. How did you happen to fall in with them?"
"I met them up at Rumford's Hotel. They said they knew a man I was looking
for."
"Will you come along and make a charge against them?"
"Certainly. He has my diamond pin."
The pin was brought to light and handed over to its owner, and then our
hero was asked to go along.
Anxious to know what the westerner might want of Crazy Jim, Jerry agreed,
and a minute later found the whole crowd bound for the nearest
station-house.
Here the westerner gave his name as Colonel Albert Dartwell. He said he
was from Denver and had come east on private business.
"I have been sick for two months," he said. "I am still weak. That is the
reason I did not put up a better fight when those two men tackled me."
Jerry told his story, and the upshot of the matter was that the two
footpads were held for another hearing before the judge in the morning.
"My boy, I owe you something for your services to me," said the westerner,
as he and our hero came out on the street. "You did well for a boy."
"I did the best I could," replied the young oarsman "But I want to ask you
a question. I heard you mention Crazy Jim. What do you want to see him
for?"
A look of pain crossed Colonel Dartwell's face at my words.
"It's a long story, Upton. I am from the West and came many miles to see
him. Do you know the man?"
"I know one fellow called Crazy Jim, sir."
"His right name is James MacHenry."
"That's the man."
"Ah! And where can he be found?"
"Most likely on Blackwell's Island."
"He is in prison?"
"Yes."
"What for?"
"For breaking the glass in a store window and creating a row."
Colonel Dartwell drew a long breath.
"Those footpads told me he was in a hotel in the neighborhood. You are
sure you are right?"
"Yes, sir. To be truthful, I was mixed up in the scrape that took Crazy
Jim to prison."
"Indeed. Would you mind telling me about it? You don't look like a boy
that would do wrong."
"It wasn't my fault. Crazy Jim had a packet belonging to me--a packet
containing some valuable documents. I called for them and found he had
given them up to an enemy of mine."
"And that led to the row."
"Not exactly. He is a bad man, and there was a little girl living with
him, and he--"
As Jerry spoke Colonel Dartwell grasped him by the arm.
"Stop! What did you say about a little girl?" he demanded, eagerly.
"I said there was a little girl living with him. He used to send her out
to beg. He got it into his head that she had set me against him, and he
started to beat her. I told her to run away, and then he attacked me and
got arrested."
"And what became of the little girl? Tell me, quickly!" And Colonel
Dartwell's voice was husky as he spoke.
"I met her afterward and took her to where I was boarding, and she is
still stopping there."
"Describe her to me."
Seeing there was something behind the inquiry, Jerry gave him the best
description he could. The colonel listened with fixed attention.
"It must be her!" he murmured. "My poor, lost Dottie."
"Dottie! That's her name!" cried our hero. "And she is--"
"She is my daughter," was his answer.
"Your daughter!" ejaculated Jerry, in amazement.
"Yes, my daughter. Take me to her at once."
"I will, sir; but this is the strangest thing I ever heard."
"I have no doubt of it."
"Was she stolen from you?"
"Yes. It's a long story. I will tell it to you while we are on the way.
She is well?"
"Yes, sir. But she has been misused, so you mustn't expect to see her
looking real good. She is very thin."
"I have not seen her for four years, not since she was a mite of a
toddler."
The pair started for the ferry without delay, and as they proceeded, the
colonel related his story.
He was a mine-owner and had lived in the West for fifteen years. His wife
had died when Dottie was born, and the child had been turned over to the
care of a colored nurse.
At that time James MacHenry had been a prospector in the region and he had
opened a mine close to that located by the colonel.
All went well until the MacHenry mine petered out as it is called, and
then the man's mind became deranged. He accused the colonel of having
cheated him out of a slice of the richest land and a bitter quarrel
resulted.
Two weeks later MacHenry disappeared, and shortly after that baby Dottie
was missing. A long search was made for the child, but without avail.
Curiously enough, the colonel did not connect the disappearance of his
child with that of Crazy Jim. He started to hunt for the little one among
the Indians and the outlaws in the mountains.
Two years passed, and then one night a good-for-nothing miner named Duffy
was shot in a quarrel over a game of cards. On his dying bed Duffy
confessed that he had once been intimate with Crazy Jim and that the
latter had acknowledged stealing Dottie.
A hunt was at once made for the abductor. It was said he had gone to San
Francisco, and later on he was traced to Chicago, but there the trail was
lost until long after, when a tramp turned up who spoke of having seen
Crazy Jim around New York.
Without delay Colonel Dartwell had come East and scoured the metropolis.
While here he had fallen in with footpads who had sought to rob him.