Dan, The Newsboy. Alger Horatio Jr.

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      "I will try to find Mike; and if I do, I will get the money if I can. That's the first thing."

      Dan went up stairs at once, and knocked at Mrs. Rafferty's door.

      She came to the door, her arms dripping with suds, for she had been washing.

      "Is it you, Dan?" she said. "And how is your mother to-day?"

      "Is Mike in?" asked Dan, abruptly, too impatient to answer the question.

      "No; he went out quarter of an hour ago."

      "Did he tell you where he was going, Mrs. Rafferty?"

      "Yes, he did. He said he was going over to Brooklyn to see if he could get a job, shure. Did you want him?"

      "Yes, I did, Mrs. Rafferty. I'm sorry to tell you that Mike has played a bad trick on my mother."

      "Oh, whirra, whirra, what a bye he is!" wailed Mrs. Rafferty. "He's always up to something bad. Sorra bit of worruk he does, and I at the wash-tub all day long."

      "He's a bad son to you, Mrs. Rafferty."

      "So he is, Dan, dear. I wish he was like you. And what kind of trick has he played on your good mother?"

      "He told her that I had been run over and broken my leg. Of course she went out to find me, thinking it was all true, and while she was away he took the money from her pocket-book."

      Some mothers would have questioned this statement, but Mrs. Rafferty knew to her cost that Mike was capable of stealing, having been implicated in thefts on several occasions.

      "Was it much, Dan?" she asked.

      "Six or seven dollars. I can't say just how much."

      "Oh, what a bad bye! I don't know what to do wid him, shure."

      "It was the money we were to pay our rent with to-morrow," continued Dan. "It is a very serious matter."

      "I wish I could make it up to you, Dan, dear. It's a shame it is."

      "You are an honest woman, Mrs. Rafferty, but you ought not to make it up. I wish I could find Mike. Do you think he has really gone to Brooklyn."

      "Shure, I don't know. He said so."

      "He might have done it as a blind, just to put me on the wrong scent."

      "So he might, shure."

      "Well, Mrs. Rafferty, I can't stop any longer. I'll try to find him."

      He went down stairs and told his mother what he had discovered or failed to discover.

      "Don't wait supper for me, mother," he said. "I'm going in search of Mike."

      "You won't fight with him, Dan?" said Mrs. Mordaunt, anxiously.

      "I can't promise, mother. I will only agree to be prudent. I am not going to submit to the loss without trying to get the money back, you may be sure of that."

      So Dan went down stairs, considerably perplexed in mind. Mike was sure to keep out of the way for a time at least, anticipating that Dan would be upon his track. While our hero was searching for him, he would have plenty of opportunities of spending the money of which he had obtained unlawful possession. To punish him without regaining the contents of the lost pocket-book would be an empty triumph. In the street below Dan espied Terence Quinn, an acquaintance of Mike.

      "How are you, Terence?" he said. "Have you seen anything of Mike?"

      "I saw him only a few minutes ago."

      "Where did he go?"

      "I don't know."

      "I want to see him on business."

      "I'll tell you where he'll be this evening."

      "Where?"

      "He's going to the Old Bowery, and I'm goin' wid him."

      "Does he treat?"

      "Yes."

      "Where did he get the money?"

      "He didn't tell me," said Terence.

      "He's taken the rent money. I'm sure of it now," said Dan to himself. "I wish I knew where to find him."

      CHAPTER X.

      DAN AS A DETECTIVE

      Dan quickly decided that if Mike had been going to Brooklyn, he would not have announced it under the circumstances.

      "He meant to send me there on a wild-goose chase," he reflected. "I am not quite so green as he takes me to be."

      Dan could not decide as easily where Mike had gone. Hood says in his poem of "The Lost Heir,"

      "A boy as is lost in London streets is like a needle in a bundle of hay."

      A hunt for a boy in the streets of New York is about equally hopeless. But Dan did not despair.

      "I'll just stroll round a little," he said to himself. "Maybe I'll find him."

      Dan bent his steps toward the Courtlandt-street Ferry.

      "Perhaps Mike has gone to Jersey City," he said to himself. "Anyway, I'll go over there."

      It was not an expensive journey. Six cents would defray Dan's expenses both ways, and he was willing to incur this expense. He meant to look about him, as something might turn up by which he could turn an honest penny.

      Something did turn up.

      Near him in the cabin of the ferry-boat sat a gentleman of middle age, who seemed overloaded with baggage. He had two heavy carpet-bags, a satchel, and a bundle, at which he looked from time to time with a nervous and uncomfortable glance. When the boat touched shore he tried to gather his various pieces of luggage, but with indifferent success. Noticing his look of perplexity, Dan approached him, and said, respectfully:

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