JIMMY IS OUT OF LUCK
Jimmy bought another supply of papers and hurried back to his corner.
But no sooner had he come in sight of it than he saw it was occupied by
a large newsboy. The newcomer was a lad much bigger and stronger than
our young hero, but in spite of that Jimmy was not going to be deprived
of his place without a protest.
"Hey, Bulldog!" he exclaimed, giving the other newsboy the nickname by
which he was known, "what ye doin' on my corner?"
"Your corner?" inquired the other, with an ugly grin on his big face,
thereby showing two sharp teeth which gave him his name.
"Yep, my corner, Bulldog. I was here all de afternoon sellin' papes
an' went t' git some more."
"An' I got it now," added Bulldog Smouder with a leer. "Here ye are,
paper! Wuxtry!" he added as a man came up and bought a _World_. It
made Jimmy angry to see profits that he thought should be his going
into the pockets of his enemy, for Bulldog Smouder was an enemy to all
the newsboys excepting those he could not whip. He was a fighter and a
bully, and he lost no chance to impose on those weaker or younger than
himself. Still, he had no particular grudge against Jimmy, and he
would just as quickly have taken the place some other boy regarded as
his own as he had preempted that recently occupied by our hero.
"Git on off there!" cried Jimmy. "Dat's me place, an' youse knows it."
"I don't know nuttin' but what I sees. I seen this corner an' nobody
holdin' it down an' I took it. If youse wants t' keep a good place,
what makes youse leave it?"
"I had t' git more papes."
"Den youse ought t' have a partner in business wid ye. He could go
after papes while youse held de corner. I'll go in whacks wid ye if ye
likes. But youse got t' give me half what youse made t'-day."
"I will like pie!"
It had been a good day for Jimmy, and with the quarter Mr. Crosscrab
had given him he had more than he had possessed in a long time before.
He was not going to divide with Bulldog, even if the latter, from a
physical standpoint, was a desirable partner. For Bulldog was lazy.
Jimmy knew if there was a union formed he would have to do all the
work, while Bulldog would take half the profits and do nothing.
"Ain't ye goin' t' git off me corner?" demanded Jimmy again.
"Naw, I ain't. Now chase yerself. I want t' sell me papes an' go
home. Skiddoo fer yours!"
"I'd like t' punch yer face in," muttered Jimmy.
"Try it," advised Bulldog with a grin. "I'll tie youse up in a knot if
ye do."
"What's de matter, Bulldog?" asked another newsboy, coming up at that
juncture. He had no papers.
"Aw, de kid says I swiped his corner."
"An' so ye did!" cried Jimmy.
"Why didn't ye stay here den?" asked Bulldog.
"I told youse. 'Cause I had 't go after papes."
"Well, youse know what I said. Git a partner."
"Don't youse give him de corner, Bulldog! Youse got as good a right t'
it as he has."
"Sure I have, Mike, an' I'm goin' t' stay here, too."
All this time Bulldog was busy selling papers, while the new stock
Jimmy had obtained was still undiminished.
"What ye buttin' in fer, Mike Conroy?" asked Jimmy of the newcomer.
"It's none of your funeral."
"Aw, g'wan! Guess I kin speak t' Bulldog if I want t'. I'll punch yer
nose fer ye if youse gits too fresh."
"I'd like t' see ye do it!" cried Jimmy, but at the same time he took
good care not to get too near Mike, who was a worse bully than Bulldog.
The latter would not attack smaller boys than himself without some
provocation, but Mike Conroy used to beat and kick them every chance he
got. He had often hit Jimmy.
"Wuxtry! Wuxtry!" cried Bulldog as the crowd of men hurrying to the
ferry came past. He was kept busy selling papers. Poor Jimmy was out
of it. His luck had turned, but it was destined to do so even more
before the night was over. Still, he had sold a large number of
papers. The trouble was he had bought another big supply, and unless
he could quickly dispose of them the crowds would soon be gone, and he
would have them left on his hands, to return to the offices, thus
making no profit.
He sold a few on the outskirts of the throng about Bulldog, but as soon
as the latter saw what was going on he made a rush at Jimmy. The
latter fled, for he knew that in a fight he was no match for the larger
lad.
"Where's your papes?" Bulldog asked Mike during a lull in the business
of selling.
"I'm cleaned out. Sold 'em down in Wall Street. Guess I'll take in a
theater t'-night. I kin afford it."
"Wish I could. Maybe I'll go wid ye."
"All right. Goin' t' de lodgin'-house?"
"Sure."
"Keep de kid away from here den till I gits sold out an' I'll go wid
ye," said Bulldog.
Thus he and Mike formed an alliance against Jimmy. While Bulldog
attended to his customers Mike saw to it that Jimmy did not approach
the corner; thus the small lad lost what little chance he had of making
sales. As he was thinking over the unfairness of it, and wondering
where he had better go to dispose of his stock, he was hailed by
another lad about his own size.
"Hello, Jim!" cried the newcomer. "What's the matter?"
"Hello, Frank. Aw, Bulldog Smouder run me off me corner. Dat's what
he done."
"That's too bad," exclaimed Frank Merton, who, though a newsboy like
Jimmy, was better educated. In fact, Frank had not been long in the
business. Left an orphan at an early age, an aged aunt had tried to
take care of him, but when she was taken ill he found it necessary to
go on the streets selling papers, while his aunt was taken to an
institution. During the lifetime of his parents he had been sent to
school, and so he used better language than did his fellows. He was a
bright-faced, pleasant lad, and often did errands, in addition to
selling papers, so he could afford to have a regular room at the
Newsboys' Lodging House. At night Frank went to evening school.
"Yep, it's tough luck," went on Jimmy. "I went an' bought a new stock,
an' I ain't sold five yet."
"I'll help you," generously offered Frank. "I sold out some time ago.
That big fire seemed to make every one want a paper. Suppose you give
me half your stock, and we'll go over by the bridge entrance and see if
we can't sell them. There's a big crowd there yet."
"Dat's a good idea. T'anks. Bulldog was sayin' I ought t' have a
partner, an' now I've got one."
"Yes," remarked Frank musingly, "I suppose if two boys did go into
partnership they could make more at it than two could working alone. I
must think about that."
"Maybe you an' I'll go snooks," proposed Jimmy.
"We'll see," went on Frank. "Anyhow, we'll be partners to-night. Now
come on before the crowd gets away."
The two boys hurried back across City Hall Park, and, mingling with the
crowd that was hurrying toward Brooklyn, they soon disposed of their
papers.
"Here's your money," said Frank, coming up to Jimmy and handing him the
change.
"Keep ten cents fer yerself," proposed Jimmy generously, for he was a
good-hearted youth in spite of his rather rough ways.
"Oh, no. I made a good profit to-day. I offered to help you, and I
didn't expect any pay."
"Ah, g'wan! Take ten cents."
"If you have so much money to give away, why don't you start an account
in the Dime Savings Bank?" proposed Frank.
"What's de use?" asked Jimmy. "I'd draw it all out ag'in when I was
broke. Youse had better take de ten cents."
"No. I'd rather you'd keep it."
"Den come on an' take in a movin' picture show," proposed Jimmy.
"Dere's a dandy on de Bowery. It's a prize-fight, an' ye kin see de
knock-out blow as plain as anyt'ing, Sam Schmidt was tellin' me. Come
on. I'll pay yer way in. It's only a nickel."
"No. I can't go to-night."
"Why not?"
"I have to go to evening school. The term closes this week."
"Aw, cut it out," advised Jimmy. "Come wid me. We'll have a bully
time."
"No, I don't believe I will."
"Den I am. I'm in luck t'-day. Feller give me a quarter fer showin'
him where de Brooklyn Bridge was. He was from de country. Guess he
was bug-house."
"Bug-house? That's a new one on me."
"Sure, nutty--crazy, ye know, dippy in de lid--off his noodle."
"You certainly have a choice lot of slang," remarked Frank with a smile
as he left Jimmy.
"Well, den, I'll have t' go t' de show alone," thought the lad. "Let's
see how much I've got."
He counted over his change and found he had more than he expected.
"Dollar an' seventy-seven cents. Crimps! But I'll buy a pack of
cigarettes an' have a swell time. Guess I'll git a bit of grub now,
an' den I'll be ready fer de show."
"Grub" for Jimmy meant supper. He made a substantial meal on some
beans, coffee and bread and what passed for butter in one of the
cheapest of the Bowery eating-places. This cost him ten cents. He
spent five cents for cigarettes, for Jimmy had learned to smoke them at
an early age, and did not consider it wrong, as most of his companions
indulged in the same habit.
Puffing on the cigarette, with his hands in his pockets and a
comfortable feeling under his belt, Jimmy strolled up the Bowery toward
the moving-picture show of the prize-fight. He found a number of
persons, including some of his newsboy acquaintances, going in.
"Hello, Bricks," greeted a lad, giving Jimmy the nickname that had been
bestowed on him because of his sandy hair.
"Hello yerself, Nosey," replied Jimmy, for the other boy had a very big
nose which had earned him this title.
"Goin' in?"
"Sure."
"Take me; I'm broke."
"Come on," invited Jimmy generously, feeling like a small edition of a
millionaire. "Have a cigarette?"
"T'anks. Say, youse must be flush wid de coin."
"Oh, I made a little t'-day."
The boys and many grown persons entered the amusement place. They were
soon deeply interested in the moving pictures of the prize-fight,
yelling and shouting as the photographs of the pugilists were thrown on
the white screen.
There were many other moving pictures, the performance lasting over an
hour. During a lull, when there was no picture on the screen, Jimmy
looked around him. On a seat behind he saw Mike Conroy and Bulldog
Smouder, his two enemies of that afternoon.
"Goin' t' punch me after de show?" asked Mike with a leer.
"Aw, cheese it," advised Jimmy. "I'll git square wid youse somehow."
There was no time for further talk, as another picture was shown and
the boys were absorbed in that. Jimmy could hear Bulldog and Mike
whispering back of him, but he paid no attention to them.
When the show was over and Jimmy was out in the street, Nosey having
left him, he began to think of where he should spend the night. This
was something he usually left until the last moment.
"Guess I'll treat meself t' a good ten-cent bed t'-night," he said,
lighting another cigarette. "What's de use of havin' money if youse
can't spend it?"
He put his hand in the pocket where he kept his change. To his
surprise his fingers met with no jingling coins.
"Dat's queer," he remarked. "Where's me dough?"
He felt in another pocket. Then in all of them in turn.
"Stung!" he exclaimed. "Some guy has pinched all me coin an' I'm dead
broke. I had a dollar an' fifty-two cents left an' now I ain't got a
red. Me luck certainly has shook me. What's t' be done?"