when skinny the swiper, standing in the little country burying-ground, looked upon the time-stained marble slab, and deciphered the inscription upon it, he opened his eyes in wonder, and for the second time within five minutes, uttered the exclamation which he kept on hand for such emergencies as demanded something more vigorous and expressive than commonplace english.
“hully gee!” was all that this little new york street boy had to say; but coming from him it possessed a deeper significance than is conveyed by the cold type which spells the words.
first he looked at the grave-stone, and then he looked at bruce decker, and finally he asked: “wuz dat your mother?”
“yes,” replied bruce, simply.
skinny said nothing but he thought a great deal; and while he was thinking he scratched his head and looked down at the half obliterated mound of earth that marked the grave of mrs. decker. from the very first he had suspected 267that there was some connection between the gallant young fire laddie, who had saved his life and carried him from the burning building, and the scarred and bearded man who had sent him to this remote corner of the world. he had not forgotten that he had been solemnly charged not to breathe a word to any human being in regard to his strange errand, and he had an intuitive feeling that if he violated in any way the trust reposed in him, his employer would learn of it, and mete out to him a terrible vengeance, instead of the liberal reward that he had promised.
on the other hand, he saw before him the boy who had done for him what no one else in the world would have done for a friendless, ragged child of the streets, and for a moment he hesitated as to which of these two masters he should choose to serve. to the one he owed a certain amount of loyalty—a few dollars worth, perhaps—but to the other he owed his life. he raised his eyes, and encountered the clear, honest, truthful ones of bruce, which looked him square in the face, and he hesitated no longer. rough contact with the world had taught him to be suspicious of others, and it was rare enough in his career that he had encountered any one whom he fully trusted. but 268there was that in bruce’s face which caused him to say to himself: “dat man is all right, an’ white,” which is a high compliment for a newsboy to pay any one.
having reached the conclusion that bruce was the best friend he was likely to have in the world, he took from his pocket the written instructions which mr. korwein had given him, handed the paper to the new master whom he had elected to serve, and blurted out: “hay, boss, ain’t dat de same party?”
to say that bruce was surprised when he saw his mother’s name written in an unknown handwriting, and in the possession of his little hospital friend but feebly describes his condition of mind.
“come over here with me,” he said, as he led the way to a low stone wall, somewhat remote from the couples who were walking up and down the paths, laughing and whispering and talking. then, seating himself on a convenient bowlder, he said to skinny: “how in the world did you ever get hold of this paper?”
and skinny in reply told him the whole story of the dark-bearded man, who had summoned him to his office, and sent him away to the shore of the great inland lake, simply to get information 269about mary decker and her son, if son she had. skinny’s recital occupied nearly a quarter of an hour, for he stretched it so as to include his adventures while on the road from new york, and the circumstances which had led to his becoming what he called a haymaker. bruce listened intently to every word the boy uttered, and questioned him narrowly in regard to mr. korwein and his motive in entrusting him with such a strange commission. of course skinny could not account for the man’s motives, and, indeed, that was something he had not troubled himself about. it was enough to him that his employer wished to obtain certain information, and was willing to pay for it. so long as he could be well paid for his work he did not concern himself about people’s motives, or ask what would be done with the information which he supplied. but he did not neglect to mention the fact that in telling as much as he had, he had betrayed his employer, and he warned his friend to keep strictly to himself all that he had told him. bruce readily agreed to this, and then, as the afternoon had already merged into twilight, they returned to the village, skinny, passing on to mr. wolcott’s house and bruce going to that of the friends whom he was visiting.
270the following evening the two boys met again by agreement, and, with his friends assistance, skinny composed and sent to his employer in new york the following letter:
“mr. korwein—
dear sir:—i went up to the cemetery yesterday, and seen the grave, which had on it
sacred to the memory
of
mary, wife of frank decker.
born dec. 1st, 1855,
died sept. 5th, 1877.
there wasn’t no other graves of any folks named decker. i am still on the farm. no more at present. from
skinny.”
then he entrusted to bruce his employer’s address and bade him good-bye with a parting injunction not to let the man know where he learned of him; and with this address in his pocket, bruce climbed aboard a new york train, said good-bye to a number of admiring villagers who accompanied him to the depot and was borne away toward new york, while the street boy walked slowly back to the wolcott’s.
skinny writes a letter to mr. korwein.—page 270.
271as the train rolled swiftly along our young hero sat with his face pressed against the car window looking out into the quiet night and thinking over the strange things that happened to him of late. to begin with, there was this dark bearded man of mystery who, he was positive, could tell him everything that he wished to know; and who was this ragged newsboy whom he had befriended—could it be possible that he was simply a hireling of the other and that he had been sent to rocky point to spy upon him? no, he could not doubt skinny’s sincerity, and the feeling had been growing daily within him that through him the mystery which enveloped his early days and even his origin would finally be cleared up. one thing he had determined, and that was that as soon as he reached new york he would go to mr. korwein and boldly ask him—what? that was the trouble. what should he ask him? he would feel very foolish saying to that scarred and bearded gentleman: “please sir will you tell me who i am and clear up the mystery which enshrouds me?”
his mind was still busy with this problem when the monotonous motion of the train got the better of his senses and he fell into a deep sleep.
and just at that moment skinny the swiper was lying wide awake in the comfortable attic room in which mr. wolcott had installed him and was asking himself what it all meant. why should mr. korwein have sent him up to 272rocky point, and what had he to do with the grave of the young fireman’s mother? for the life of him he could not make it out and then he wondered if mr. korwein would ever find out about his treachery and at the thought of that great man’s wrath he curled himself up in bed, drew the clothes up over his face and resolved that he would remain on the farm until he had changed beyond all recognition. “anyway,” he said to himself, “dis is a better place dan de bowery, because dere’s more to eat an’ a place to sleep.”
and then he too fell asleep and did not waken until the daylight was streaming through the window over his head and mrs. wolcott calling to him from the foot of the staircase.
the little newsboy found life so pleasant during the autumnal weather on the shore of lake ontario that he began to think seriously of settling down to an agricultural life. the air was fine and bracing, the food plentiful and nutritious and the farmer and his wife treated him with great kindness and did not ask him to do more than a boy’s amount of work. skinny’s life had been a hard one, and never in his recollection had he had as much to eat or enjoyed himself more than he had since his arrival in the little country place on the shore of the 273great lake. good treatment was something that was more of a novelty to him than kicks and curses, and when his naturally suspicious mind grasped the fact that the farmer and his wife were kind to him, not because they expected to get the better of him in any way, but because it was their nature to be kind to all living things, and that they trusted him implicitly and seemed inclined to trust him so long as he proved worthy, it occurred to him for almost the first time in his life that there were some people in the world who did not go about with their hands lifted against such arabs as himself, and he determined to repay their confidence with absolute fidelity to their interests.
he had remained with them nearly a month, and, as has been said already was beginning to think favorably of an agricultural life when something occurred which drove all ideas of rural felicity out of his mind and sent him adrift in the world once more. the something which served to alter his intentions was a letter which came to him one morning in the mail. it was from bruce decker who wanted to know how much longer he intended to stay in the country, and whether he could be induced to make a little trip to the city for the purpose 274of rendering him (bruce) an important service.
as the newsboy finished spelling out his friend’s epistle, a gleam of delight came into his freckled face. here was another friend who treated him like a human being and came to him as to some one whom he could trust to render him a service. thrusting the letter into the inside pocket of his jacket he buttoned that faded and rather rusty garment tightly about him and went at once to his employer.
“say, boss, i gotter go ter de city ter night,” was the way in which skinny announced his intended departure.
“to-night!” exclaimed the farmer, who was accustomed to slow country ways rather than to skinny’s metropolitan swiftness of action, “what’s the matter? don’t we use you right?”
“use me right? why, boss, der aint nobody never used me no whiter den you an’ de missus, but i’ve gotter go on important bizness an’ if yer’ll lemme come back when de biz is done, i’ll stop wid yer till i’m a reg’lar haymaker.”
the farmer saw that the boy was in earnest, and although both he and his wife were sorry to have him go they made no attempt to dissuade him, but fitted him out with a new hat and 275shoes, and then to the lad’s intense surprise handed him a five-dollar note as a present.
“wot’s dis fur?” he demanded, looking with his keen, suspicious little blue eyes from the greenback in his hand to the farmer’s ruddy and honest face. he had agreed to work for his keep and never before in his experience had any one of his numerous employers paid him a nickel more than he was obliged to.
“you’ve earned it, my boy,” said the farmer heartily, “and if you want to come back again you’ll find a home for you here the same as before. you’ve saved me hiring an extra man since you have been here and next summer if you choose to pitch in and work the same as you have this fall, i’ll do better by you than this.”
skinny was a boy of but few words, but sometimes he did a good deal of quiet thinking. he said but little in farewell to his friends, but as he was passing through the gate he turned for a last look at the house which had given him shelter and at the farmer and his wife who were still standing in the doorway and who had treated him with so much kindness.
the night train bore him swiftly to new york and by nine o’clock the next morning he was standing in front of the superintendent of the newsboys’ lodging house, in negotiation 276for what he described as “first-class commerdations widder best grub in der place.”
having made arrangements for food and lodging, the boy started uptown with the intention of seeing bruce at the truck quarters, but he had not gone many blocks before he felt a strong hand on his shoulder and heard a stern voice behind him saying: “and so you’ve turned up again, you young rascal! now, let’s hear what you have to say for yourself!”
the newsboy knew the voice at once. there was no need for him to turn his head. he felt that the hand of fate, in the person of the tall, black-bearded man, had overtaken him. but it was not the first time that the hand of vengeance or justice had fallen upon him, and no one knew better than skinny that such a grasp is not always a sure one. without even turning his head or uttering a single sound the boy simply slid out of his jacket, twisted himself free and darted around the nearest corner, leaving his captor standing on the sidewalk with the ragged jacket in his hand and on his face a look of rage that it was well for skinny’s peace of mind that he did not see.
“i’ll catch him yet, the young vagabond, and find out what he’s been doing all this time!” 277muttered the tall man between his teeth as he looked down at the shabby garment which remained in his hand as evidence of the brief captivity and sudden, eel-like escape of skinny the swiper. he was about to throw the jacket in the gutter, for it would look odd to be seen carrying it through the crowded streets, when his eye fell upon the corner of an envelope protruding from an inside pocket, and thinking that it might contain a clue to the boy’s haunts in the city, he took it out and examined it. it was simply a letter written two days before, but it was the signature of bruce decker which arrested the attention of the man who read it and brought a sudden gleam into his eyes.
