SAM MEETS BROWN AND IS UNHAPPY,
Never doubting Sam's assurance, the stranger entered the gloomy
building, the lower part of which is divided into court-rooms. Out of
one of these a man came, to whom he addressed this question: "Where is
the counting-room?"
"The counting-room!" repeated the man, staring. "There isn't any here,
that I know of."
"I want to subscribe for the weekly edition," explained the man from
Illinois.
"It strikes me you're a weakly edition of a man yourself," thought the
other. "He must be a lunatic," was the next thought. "I may as well
humor him."
"Go in at that door," he said.
The stranger entered as directed, and at once recognized it as a
court-room.
"It is very singular that there should be a courtroom in the 'Tribune'
office," he thought. He took a seat, and whispered to a man at his
side: "Can you tell me where the 'Tribune' office is?"
"Printing-house Square," was the whispered reply.
"Where's that?"
"Not much over a quarter of a mile from here."
"The boy deceived me," thought the stranger indignantly, "and I gave
him fifty cents for doing it. He must be a young rascal."
"What building is this?" he asked, still in a whisper.
"The Tombs."
"What, the prison!"
"Yes; didn't you know it?" asked the informant, in surprise.
"I am a stranger in the city," said the Illinois man apologetically.
"Did you want to go to the 'Tribune' office?"
"Yes; I wished to subscribe for the paper."
"I am going that way. I will show you if you desire it."
"Thank you. I shall consider it a favor."
So the two retraced their steps, and this time our Illinois friend
found the office of which he was in quest. He came near finding Sam
also, for as he stood in front of French's Hotel, he saw his recent
acquaintance approaching, and quickly dodged inside the hotel till he
had passed. A boot-black to whom he had been speaking followed him in
surprise.
"I say, what's up, Johnny?" he asked. "Yer didn't see a copp, did
yer?"
"No, it's that man that just went by."
"Who's he?"
"He's the man I ran away from," said Sam, not caring to tell the
truth.
"What would he do if he should catch you?" asked the boot-black, with
curiosity.
"Lick me," said Sam, laconically.
"Then you did right. Is he going to stay here long?"
"No; he's going away to-day."
"Then you're safe. You'd better go the other way from him."
"So I will," said Sam. "Where's the Park I've heard so much about?"
"Up that way."
"Is it far?"
"Four or five miles."
"It's a long way to walk."
"You can ride for five cents."
"Can I?"
"Yes; just go over to the Astor House, and take the Sixth avenue cars,
and they'll take you there."
Sam had intended to spend his entire fifty cents in buying dinner when
the time came, but he thought he would like to see Central Park.
Besides, he would be safe from pursuit, and the punishment which he
felt he deserved. Following the directions of his boy friend, he
entered a Sixth avenue car, and in a little less than an hour was set
down at one of the gates of the Park. He entered with a number of
others, and followed the path that seemed most convenient, coming out
at last at the lake. Until now Sam had thought rather slightingly of
the Park. Green fields were no novelty to him, but he admired the lake
with the boats that plied over its surface filled with lively
passengers. He would have invested ten cents in a passage ticket; but
he felt that if he did this, he must sacrifice a part of his intended
dinner, and Sam was growing prudent. He wandered about the Park two or
three hours, sitting down at times on the benches that are to be found
here and there for the convenience of visitors. He felt ready to go
back; but it was only noon, and he was not sure but he might fall in
with the gentleman from Illinois, whom he had left at the entrance of
the Tombs.
He was destined to meet an acquaintance, but this time it was some one
that had cheated him. Looking up from the bench on which he was
seated, he saw his host of the preceding night, Mr. Clarence Brown,
lounging along, smoking a cigar, with a look of placid contentment on
his face.
"That cigar was bought with my money," thought Sam, bitterly; and in
this conclusion he was right.
Sam jumped from his seat, and advanced to meet his enemy.
"Look here, Mr. Brown!"
Clarence Brown started as he saw who addressed him, for he was far
from expecting to meet Sam here. He saw from the boy's looks that he
was suspected of robbing him, and decided upon his course.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" he said, smiling. "How do you like the Park?"
"Never mind about that," said Sam, impatiently. "I want my money."
Mr. Brown arched his eyes in surprise.
"Really, my young friend, I don't comprehend you," he said,
withdrawing his cigar from his mouth. "You speak as if I owed you some
money."
"Quit fooling!" said Sam, provoked at the other's coolness. "I want
that money you took from me while I was asleep last night."
"It strikes me you have been dreaming," said Brown, composedly. "I
don't know anything about your money. How much did you have?"
"Nearly seven dollars."
"Are you sure you had it when you went to bed?"
"Yes. I kept it in my vest-pocket."
"That was careless. You should have concealed it somewhere. I would
have kept it for you if you had asked me."
"I dare say you would," said Sam, with withering sarcasm.
"Certainly, I wouldn't refuse so small a favor."
"Are you sure you didn't keep it for me?" said Sam.
"How could I, when you didn't give it to me?" returned the other,
innocently.
"If you didn't take it," said Sam, rather staggered by the other's
manner, "where did it go to?"
"I don't know, of course; but I shouldn't be surprised if it fell out
of your vest-pocket among the bed-clothes. Did you look?"
"Yes."
"You might have overlooked it."
"Perhaps so," said Sam, thoughtfully.
He began to think he had suspected Mr. Brown unjustly. Otherwise, how
could he be so cool about it?
"I am really sorry for your loss," said Brown, in a tone of sympathy;
"all the more so, because I am hard up myself. I wish I had seven
dollars to lend you."
"I wish you had," muttered Sam. "I can't get along without money."
"Did you have any breakfast?"
"Yes."
Sam did not furnish particulars, not liking to acknowledge the
treatment he had received.
"Oh, you'll get along," said Brown, cheerfully. "Come and lodge with
me again to-night."
"I don't know but what I will," said Sam, reflecting that he had no
money to lose now, as he intended to spend all he had for dinner.
"Sit down and let us have a friendly chat," said Clarence Brown.
"Won't you have a cigar? I've got an extra one."
"I never smoked," said Sam.
"Then it's time you learned. Shall I show you how?"
"Yes," said Sam.
The fact is, our very badly behaved hero had long cherished a desire
to see how it seemed to smoke a cigar; but in the country he had never
had the opportunity. In the city he was master of his own actions, and
it occurred to him that he would never have a better opportunity.
Hence his affirmative answer.
Clarence Brown smiled slightly to himself, for he anticipated fun. He
produced the cigar, lighted it by his own, and gave Sam directions how
to smoke. Sam proved an apt pupil, and was soon puffing away with
conscious pride. He felt himself several years older. But all at once
he turned pale, and drew the cigar from his mouth.
"What's the matter?" asked Brown, demurely.
"I--don't--know," gasped Sam, his eyes rolling; "I--feel--sick."
"Do you? Don't mind it; it'll pass off."
"I think I'm going to die," said Sam, in a hollow voice. "Does smoking
ever kill people?"
"Not often," said Brown, soothingly.
"I think it's goin' to kill me," said Sam, mournfully.
"Lie down on the bench. You'll feel better soon."
Sam lay down on his back, and again he wished himself safely back at
the deacon's. New York seemed to him a very dreadful place. His head
ached; his stomach was out of tune, and he felt very unhappy.
"Lie here a little while, and you'll feel better," said his companion.
"I'll be back soon."
He walked away to indulge in a laugh at his victim's expense, and Sam
was left alone.