JIMMY IN TROUBLE
When the manager of the lodging-house saw Dick, he realized that the
lad was quite ill. He did not try to prescribe for him, but at once
called in the district physician.
The doctor looked grave when he had felt of Dick's pulse, looked at his
tongue, and asked him some questions. Then he beckoned Mr. Snowden to
come out of the room.
"What is it?" asked the manager.
"I'm afraid the lad's going to be quite ill. I can't be positive, but
I don't like his symptoms. He must have had some shock recently that
brought this on. He looks like a boy from some refined home. How does
he come to be in this place?" This physician was not the one who had
seen Dick before.
Mr. Snowden explained as much about Dick's case as he knew, ending up
with an account of Bulldog's meanness.
"That fright was what brought it on," declared the doctor. "Well, I'll
leave some medicine for him, and I'll come in again this afternoon. He
ought to have some one to look after him."
"I guess we can arrange that. His 'partner,' as he calls him, Jimmy
Small, is very kind to him. The two boys have done well selling
papers, and I understand they have quite a tidy little sum saved up.
They are trying to buy a stand. I guess Jimmy will stay in and look
after him, and I will do what I can."
"Perhaps that will answer. He may take a turn for the better. I can
tell in a few hours."
Mr. Snowden had a talk with Jimmy, telling him part of what the doctor
had said, but not enough to alarm the lad. As he expected, Jimmy at
once offered to stay at home and nurse Dick, as he had done once before.
"But what about selling the papers?" asked the manager.
"I can get Sam Schmidt and Frank Merton to look after part of my
customers for me. The rest will have to wait until Dick gets well."
This arrangement was carried out, Frank and Sam gladly agreeing to do
all in their power to help the two boys. Dick was quite ill, but
fortunately nothing very serious developed. His fever still continued,
however, and he was too weak to get out of bed, the physician said.
"How long will I have to stay in?" asked Dick.
"At least a week. Perhaps longer. You require nourishing food, and
your nerves need quieting. You are not used to this life."
"No," said Dick softly, and again there came to him the troublesome
question of what sort a life he was accustomed to, and who he was.
"But you must not worry," cautioned the doctor. "You'll be well taken
care of, and in a short time you can go out again."
In a few days Dick was enough better so that he did not need any one
with him constantly. Jimmy, therefore, could go out on the streets
selling papers, for Mr. Snowden or some of the men employed about the
lodging-house looked in Dick's room several times during the day to see
if he needed anything.
"Lots of men is askin' for you," said Jimmy, when he came home one
night. "Sam Schmidt is takin' care of your customers down in Wall
Street, and they want to know when you're comin' back. They say
they're waitin' for you, and for a while they'll buy of Sam. He tried
to explain that he was workin' for you, but he can't twist his Dutch
tongue well enough yet. But I guess it's all right."
Dick did not recover as quickly as the doctor expected he would, and he
had been in bed over a week, for the fever did not seem to yield to the
treatment.
"It must be some trouble that I can't get at," said the baffled
physician one day to Mr. Snowden. "Perhaps that blow he got just
before he found himself in the box may have had something to do with
it. If he doesn't get better soon I'll have him taken to the hospital.
We may have to operate."
"Don't tell him or Jimmy that."
"Oh, no; not until it's necessary. I'll try some new medicine."
It was the day following this that something happened which changed
everything, and while at the time it seemed to Jimmy quite a
misfortune, in the end it turned into a blessing.
As might be expected, Mike Conroy and Bulldog Smouder were much
incensed at the failure of their plot. Jimmy had reached New York much
quicker than they had thought he would, thanks to the kindness of the
woman who supplied him with carfare, and to whom, with Dick's help that
same night, he had mailed back the twenty-five cents with a letter of
thanks. Then, too, Sam's unexpected aid and his beating of Bulldog
made that bully very angry. So the two cronies were looking for a
chance to get "even," as they called it.
They had about given up trying to get any reward for restoring Dick to
his home, and they began to believe that the boy was telling the truth
about himself. But their anger turned against Jimmy, whom they both
regarded as their enemy. They were on the lookout for an opportunity
to injure him in some way.
Chance gave them the very opportunity they wanted. It was in the
afternoon, Jimmy was selling the last of his papers, and was counting
on getting back to the room where Dick was. An Italian banana peddler
stopped his cart right behind the boy and began to arrange the fruit in
tempting piles. Just then Bulldog and Mike passed, and as Jimmy was
counting his change he did not see them.
"Shove him over inter de Ginny's cart an' run," suggested Mike.
"Sure," agreed his crony, always ready for a mean trick.
When Jimmy was not looking Mike stepped quickly up and gave the newsboy
a vigorous push. Jimmy lost his balance, and the next instant was
fairly on top of the cart. It upset, and he rolled to the ground amid
bunches of the yellow fruit.
"Comme sta!" wildly exclaimed the Italian. "Whatta for you doa dat?
Badda de boy! Me calla de police! Upseta alla de banan!"
"I didn't do it. They pushed me," said Jimmy as he struggled to his
feet and started to point out Bulldog and Mike, of whom he had caught a
passing glimpse as they fled. But they had hid in a doorway and could
not be seen.
"Nobody doa de push!" declared the Italian. "Badda de boya, makea me
mucha de troub! Hey, police!" and he beckoned to a big bluecoat.
"Now what's the row?" asked the officer.
"Dessa boy he upseta my stand. Spoila alla de banan."
"I didn't do it," declared Jimmy.
"Aw, g'wan! Didn't I see you on top of the cart," said the officer.
There had recently been a concerted protest on the part of Italian
peddlers against newsboys and bootblacks who annoyed them, and as the
Italian vote was getting large, interested politicians had induced the
police captains to instruct their men to be on the lookout to arrest
boys who bothered the peddlers. So the officer took more interest in
this case than otherwise he would have done.
"Some one pushed me," asserted Jimmy again.
"That's a likely story. I seen you do it. Now I'm goin' to run you
in," and with that the bluecoat arrested Jimmy and marched him off to
the police station, the Italian following with his cart to make a
complaint.