stood three boys stamping their feet over an iron grating, through which
arose the warm air from an eating-house kitchen in the cellar below,
bringing occasionally an odor which, to them at least, was savory. The
three boys were all of about the same age, and all were engaged in the
same enterprise of selling newspapers--an enterprise which had not
proved particularly remunerative on this particular day, as the
wayfarers seemed to be engrossed in matters more important to them than
the reading of news. One of the lads had red hair, and was known to his
companions as "Ratsey" Finnigan. The names of the other two were
similarly characteristic of newsboy cognomens--"Swipes" Molloy, and
"Tag" McTaggart. The boys were discussing the probability of their
getting a Christmas dinner--a prospect which was apparently not very
bright.
[Illustration: "WELL, DEN," REMARKED SWIPES, "I GUESS WE'RE ALL TREE UP
AGIN IT."]
"Well, den," remarked Swipes, as he stood alternately on one foot, and
then on the other, "I guess we're all t'ree up agin it."
"It looks dat way, sure," assented Ratsey; "except Tag goes to de
mission."
"Ah-h, de mission!" exclaimed Tag, scornfully. "Don't youse fellers know
dey won't let me into de mission no more?"
"Didn't youse go fer T'anksgivin'?" asked Ratsey.
"Sure, I did; an' didn't I get fired out?"
"What fer?" inquired the red-haired lad, eagerly.
"Scrappin'," was the laconic reply. And then, as his companions seemed
to require fuller explanation, he continued: "Dat blue-faced Mike sat
nex' to me at de table, an' he took me pie off o' me. So I handed him
one in the face, and he yelled like he was hurted, but he was not hurted
a bit, and he falls down on de table an' makes a big bluff--wid me pie
in his pockut all de time. Well, Pink-whiskers, de super, he seen me hit
Mike, and he rushes up ter me, and grabs me, and turns me out, and says
as how I'll never come inside de mission to grub again." There was a
brief silence, then Tag continued, "But I got square wid Mike de nex'
day."
"Did youse do him?" asked Ratsey.
"Did I _do_ him?" repeated Tag. "Have youse _seen_ him?" Neither of his
listeners had seen the unfortunate Mike. "Well," added Tag, "I guess his
mudder 'ain't got t'rough pickin' up de pieces yet. I 'ain't been down
to Hester Street to see, neider."
"Den, if youse is fruz outen de mission," said Swipes, "sure, we'll all
have to hustle fer a Christmas feed."
"'Less it drops from der sky," put in the hopeful Ratsey; and then all
three danced vigorously on the grating.
By the time they had reached this conclusion it had grown dark--or as
dark as it ever gets in the shopping district of the great city, where
the hundreds of electric lights blink and twinkle over the sidewalks.
There seemed now to be a lull in the rush of people that had been
surging up and down the thoroughfare all the afternoon, and when one of
the boys looked up at a big clock a block away, he saw that it was past
six o'clock.
"Let's go over to de dago's an' touch him," suggested Tag, when the hour
had been announced; "we won't sell no more papes now till de late extrys
is out."
"Dat's what," returned Swipes. "We touch de dago! If we gets grub
ter-night, we calls it a Christmas-eve dinner!"
And so the three youngsters, with their hands deep in the pockets of
their scant trousers, started off westward toward "the dago's." The
"dago" was a good-hearted Italian who ran a cheap restaurant on Tenth
Avenue, and he was always generous with what came away from the tables,
especially to the newsboys. But it was not often that Tag and Swipes and
Ratsey would call upon him, for their hunting-grounds were usually too
far away; on this occasion, however, the boys had invaded the shopping
district, hoping to dispose more rapidly of their wares.
They whistled as they trudged along the slippery sidewalks, but wasted
few words in conversation. They crossed Sixth Avenue, and by the time
they had reached Seventh Avenue they had left the Christmas shoppers
behind them. Only an occasional woman passed them, hurrying homeward;
and if she carried a bundle, it was a very small one. When they came to
Ninth Avenue they turned up one block in order to come out nearer to the
"dago's." The thoroughfare was dark and almost deserted, and the snow
deadened every sound but the roaring of the elevated cars. As the three
boys passed under the iron structure a train went tearing uptownward
with a clatter that made Ratsey exclaim:
"Golly, dat's a express, sure! I wish't I was in it; de cars is warm!"
He had hardly spoken these words, and the noise of the wheels was
already lessening in the distance, when something struck him on the head
with a soft thud, and rolled him headlong into the slush underfoot.
"Gee!" he exclaimed, as he scrambled to his feet. But before he could
say anything more Swipes and Tag had shouted, "Hi-yi!" and "Shut up!"
and had turned to gather up what looked to Ratsey like a hundred bundles
scattered about in the snow.
"Swipe 'em and run," whispered Tag; and Ratsey, with an inborn instinct
to get all he could out of this world, grabbed all he saw, and started
on a run after his two companions toward Tenth Avenue. A butcher who had
seen the bundles fall from the elevated train as it rushed by came out
of his shop and shouted at the boys, but they heeded no calls, and were
well out of sight before the man had thought of pursuit.
As soon as they had reached a dark spot in the side street, they dodged
into an area to see if they were being chased, and upon making certain
that no one was after them, they set out again and made rapidly toward
the "dago's." On the way they made up a story to tell to the Italian,
and upon entering the place, Tag accounted for the large number of
packages they had by announcing that they were delivering Christmas
purchases. He also asked the "dago" if they might lay their bundles out
on a table in his place, and go over them for easier distribution. There
were few customers on hand, and the good-natured Italian let the boys
into one of the dozen "parlors" that his restaurant consisted
of--stalls, curtained off, and lighted with an oil-lamp that hung down
from the ceiling. In some of the other stalls were Italian laborers
eating and smoking and talking loud.
The boys drew their curtain carefully, and amid much excitement placed
eleven bundles on the little table between them. These packages were
from a number of different shops, but had evidently all been done up
into one large bundle by the owner for convenience in carrying. The fall
of the greater package, however, had reduced it again to its elements.
"Now we all opens one package at a time," whispered Swipes, eagerly, at
the same time grabbing the largest of the lot. The other boys likewise
seized two promising-looking parcels, and snapped the twine. Then
followed exclamations, subdued "ohs!" and "ahs!"--and cries of delight
were restrained with the greatest difficulty. The pangs of hunger were
entirely forgotten. Tag's package proved to be a good-sized box full of
Christmas-tree decorations--candles, globes, glass balls, tinsel, stars,
cornucopias, miniature toys of various kinds, bells, and any number of
other things. These were all taken out and passed around.
Swipes had drawn three dolls, and was somewhat disgusted (although he
asked Tag what he thought they would "sell for"); but Ratsey was wild
with delight, for he had opened a box of soldiers. This, of course,
brought the others to his side at once, and the soldiers were taken out
of the box and lined up on the table, and a battle was about to be
inaugurated, when Tag suggested that all the other bundles be opened to
see if there were not more troops available for the slaughter.
Then followed the breaking of every string and the unwrapping of every
parcel on the table, but no more soldiers were forth-coming. There were
a Noah's ark, and some picture-books, a train of cars, blocks, puzzles,
a horn (which Ratsey almost blew before Tag throttled him), a box of
writing-paper, a pocket-book, and a set of garden tools. When these
treasures lay heaped upon the table, the boys very nearly had spasms,
for such a wealth of playthings they had never seen before (having
always been chased out of toy-shops by officious and unfeeling
salesmen).
"Findin's is keepin's, I suppose," remarked Swipes, presently.
So engrossed had they all been in the examination of the toys that this
feature of the situation had not entered the minds of Tag and Ratsey.
"Say, it's an awful lot to keep," began Tag, hesitatingly.
"We can give some uv it to oder kids," ventured Swipes.
"Really, dough," put in Ratsey, fondling one of the soldiers, "it ain't
really ourn."
"Well, whose is it?" inquired Swipes.
This, of course, was a staggerer, and Ratsey had no reply to make.
"Sure, it's de bloke's what dropped it offen de train," said Tag,
presently.
"An' who's he?" asked Swipes.
"Dun'no'."
"You'd 'a' found out if youse hadn't runned!" said Ratsey.
"Didn't youse run wid us?" retorted Swipes.
"Sure, I did," admitted Ratsey, "an' who wouldn't? But these ain't ourn,
and we ought ter take 'em back. Dey's fer some rich kid's Christmas
tree."
"How'll you find out what kid?" continued Swipes, who really harbored no
evil intentions, but was extremely desirous of finding it impossible to
make restitution. "Dere ain't no names on de papers."
Whereupon the three boys carefully examined every piece of
wrapping-paper, but the name of a purchaser was to be found on none.
"If dere wasn't so much," stammered Tag, "I wouldn't mind. But dem
t'ings must 'a' cost a hunnerd dollars!"
"Ah-h," sneered Swipes, "a hunnerd dollars! Youse never bought no toys;
what d'ye know about it?" A remark which precipitated a lively
discussion concerning the probable price of the toys; and when it
finally ended, each boy had his own idea as to what money had been paid
for them, and no two agreed. The investigation into the ownership was
then resumed, but no clew was found until Ratsey opened the box of
writing-paper, which had not interested the boys until then, and
discovered an address engraved upon each sheet--144 WEST 134TH STREET.
Whereupon he said:
"De people what lives in dat house would know about dese t'ings."
"A-hunnerd-and-t'irty-fourt' Street!" exclaimed Tag.
"Gee, dat must be goats livin' dere!" added Swipes.
Then there was another pause, during which Ratsey replaced the soldiers
neatly in the box with his little grimy fingers, and wrapped the parcel
again in the paper it had come in.
"What yer doin'?" asked Swipes.
"I dun'no' what youse two is agoin' to do," replied Ratsey, "but I'se
goin' to take de bundles what I found, an' lug 'em up to
A-hunnerd-and-t'irty-fourt' Street."
"Say," broke in Tag, "youse is on de square ter-night, Finnigan! But, by
ginger, Swipes, de kid's right! Dese ain't ourn. I say we takes de hull
swag up town--hey?"
"Perhaps dey'll give us a quarter apiece fer bringin' it back," cried
Swipes. "Let's wrap up de stuff;" and they all set to work tying up the
bundles they had undone. They made a sorry job of it, and the knots that
held the gifts together were bewildering. As they worked they discussed
the probable reward they would receive from the owner of the goods, and
each boy announced what he would spend his money for, if he got any.
With the good resolutions to return the lost property came back the
pangs of hunger that had originally led the trio into their adventure.
Ratsey, as the smallest of the company, was deputed to go and beg
something of the "dago," and in this mission he was successful, for he
returned presently with a plate heaped with bread, cold potatoes, and
assorted morsels of meat.
"But de dago says we must git out," announced Ratsey, with his mouth
full of victuals. "He says we's been here a hour."
Indeed time had fled in the stall that had for a few moments been
transformed into a very fairyland for those three boys; and it is
probable that the Italian had forgotten their presence, so quiet had
they been the while, or they would have been dislodged long before. It
required but a few minutes to dispose of the booty Ratsey had brought
in, and then the boys gathered up their sorry-looking packages, and,
having presented their host with a set of evening papers, departed. The
journey to 134th Street was a long one to look forward to, and as they
trudged eastward toward Ninth Avenue, they debated as to how it should
best be made. The simplest method seemed to be to steal rides on trucks
as often as possible, and this scheme they adopted. In this manner they
finally reached their destination, after an hour and a half of
zigzagging from one side of town to the other on various wagons, the
trip being enlivened by whip-slashes and hard words from more than one
driver whose hospitality they had courted. So it was well on toward half
past nine when they dropped from the step of an ice-cart and made their
way through 134th Street toward No. 144.
This proved to be a large double house with the windows all lighted up
and decorated with holly wreaths. The boys hesitated for some moments
about ascending the broad brownstone steps, but finally rallied to the
emergency, and Ratsey, for having suggested the return of the packages,
was pressed into acting as the spokesman of the party.
The bell sounded with a loud twang in the basement, and a few moments
later a maid, in spotless cap and apron, opened the heavy door. Her
surprise at seeing the three urchins shivering in the cold on the snowy
stoop was in no degree assumed, and she half closed the door again
before Ratsey had found his voice.
"Please, m'm," he began, "is dis de place where de gent lives as dropped
dese packages offen de elevated road?"
Instead of replying to the boy, the maid turned and pulled back the
heavy curtain that hung between the hall and the front room. The boys
caught a glimpse of a tall Christmas tree and heard the sound of many
voices.
"Mrs. Raymond," said the maid, excitedly, "here are some little boys
with Mr. Raymond's lost bundles!"
In a moment the hallway was full of people--or rather it seemed so to
the boys--and a young man in his shirt sleeves, with his clothes and
hair all covered with tinsel, was dragging them into the house. They
huddled in a corner, and held firmly to their burdens.
"Where did you find those things, kids?" asked the young man, smiling.
"Dey fell on us in Nint' Av'noo," replied Ratsey, very much embarrassed.
"Is dey yourn?"
"You bet they are," answered the young man, looking over the packages.
"That is, they belong to the gentleman who lives in this house, and they
are for his Christmas tree. He was standing on the crowded platform of a
train, and the wind blew the package and his hat away from him."
"We 'ain't got de hat," put in Swipes--and everybody laughed.
"Poor papa!" said one of the ladies, "he's been tramping around for the
last two hours trying to duplicate the things."
Just then there was the sound of a key in the lock of the front door,
and when it was opened, there entered a fat gentleman loaded with
packages. It is hardly necessary to state here what the fat gentleman
said when the situation was explained to him, nor to repeat the
marvellous account of the rescue of the toys as given by Ratsey. It
seems enough to relate that the three boys were taken down into the
kitchen and filled full of warm coffee and bread and butter, and
eventually placed upon an elevated train and sent down to their own
district, each with a silver half-dollar in his pocket. And furthermore,
on the following night, Christmas, the same three boys were again in the
basement of the big house--this time by invitation--and the tidy maid
was furnishing them with such a dinner as they had never even dreamed
of. And at the plate of each one was a present--out of the duplicates
Mr. Raymond had purchased--Ratsey's being a brass horn of even greater
proportions than the one he had found the previous evening. Tag and
Swipes likewise received gifts, and the talking those three lads did
that night would fill a thick book.
"Sure," said Ratsey, as they finally started down town again, "Harlem
beats a mission all holler, eh, Tag?" And the other two agreed with
him.
HARPER'S ROUND TABLE
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TRAVEL WITH STANLEY. THE AFRICAN FOREST
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By Lieutenant A. I. MOUNTENEY JEPHSON
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