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The Missing Tin Box: or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds. Stratemeyer EdwardЧитать онлайн книгу.

The Missing Tin Box: or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds - Stratemeyer Edward


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it! here comes der cops!" put in the newsboy.

      Hal looked up, and saw a policeman bearing toward the spot. Ferris also gave a glance, and he muttered something under his breath.

      "What did you say?" demanded Hal.

      "I'll settle with you another time," replied Ferris.

      And picking up his hat, which had landed in a near-by drift, he placed it on his head, and sneaked down the street at a rapid gait.

      In a minute the policeman arrived at the spot.

      "What is the trouble here?" he demanded.

      "A fellow attacked me," replied Hal.

      "I see your lip's cut. Why did he do it?"

      "I got a job he used to have, and he's angry over it."

      "Oh!" The policeman tossed his head. "Did you hit back?"

      "I defended myself," replied Hal, briefly.

      He was half afraid he might be called on to make some sort of a charge, a thing he did not wish to do now the encounter was over.

      "He did der feller fer keeps!" put in the newsboy.

      "Go on with you!" cried the policeman, and the newsboy ran off, while Hal started on his way back to the office.

      "What's the matter with your lip?" inquired Hardwick, as the youth entered.

      "I cut it," replied Hal.

      The book-keeper turned and smiled to himself.

      "I guess Ferris kept his word," he muttered. "He said he was going to fix the boy. I wish he had killed the tramp."

      That afternoon dragged heavily, but at last it was time to close up. Mr. Sumner hardly spoke to either when they bade him good-evening.

      Hardwick walked up Wall Street, and then turned into Nassau, instead of continuing to Broadway.

      Suddenly an idea entered Hal's head to follow Hardwick.

      Despite all the evidence pointing in other directions, the youth thought Hardwick either guilty of the robbery or else that the book-keeper knew much concerning it.

      Hardwick continued up Nassau Street until he reached Park Row.

      Hal kept out of sight behind the man, and presently Hardwick continued up Park Row until he came to one of the side streets just beyond the entrance to the Brooklyn Bridge.

      He turned into this street, piled high on either side with dirty snow, and then entered one of the worst thoroughfares in New York City.

      By this time it was quite dark, and Hal had to keep close, for fear of losing sight of his man. He was now thoroughly interested, for he knew Hardwick boarded somewhere uptown, and it must be some special business that would bring the book-keeper to this part of the city on such a disagreeable evening.

      At length Hardwick paused and glanced behind him. As soon as he saw the movement the boy stepped behind a bill-board out of sight.

      Presently Hardwick continued on his way, walking faster than ever. The youth increased his speed.

      "Hi! look sharp there!"

      Hal was just about to cross a street when he almost ran into a heavy truck. He stepped back, and allowed the truck to pass. When he reached the opposite curb Hardwick had disappeared.

      "He must have gone on straight ahead," thought the youth. "I will soon catch up to him again."

      But though he continued onward for more than a block, he saw nothing of the book-keeper.

      He looked up and down the side streets, and tried to peep into the curtained windows of several saloons that were close at hand.

      "He must have gone in somewhere, that's certain," said Hal to himself. "I wonder if he discovered that I was following him?"

      This last thought disturbed the youth not a little. His experience with Hardwick in the office had convinced him that the book-keeper was an evil man when aroused.

      Slowly he retraced his steps, not certain if he could find his way back to Park Row, a spot he had got to know fairly well since his coming to the metropolis.

      He was just passing a place where a new building was in the course of construction when a peculiar noise to one side of him attracted his attention. By instinct he jumped toward the gutter. The next instant a mass of bricks came tumbling down. One struck him on the head, and this knocked him insensible.

      CHAPTER VII.

      HAL DETERMINES TO INVESTIGATE

      When Hal came to his senses he found himself in the arms of a boy slightly taller than himself, who was doing all in his power to restore consciousness by the application of snow to Hal's forehead.

      "What – what – " he began.

      "Good! yer come around at last, have yer?" cried the boy. "Blessed if I didn't think yer was a goner."

      Hal put his hand up to his head.

      "Where am I?" he asked, faintly.

      "Yer all right; don't worry," replied the tall boy. "Don't yer remember me?"

      Hal pulled himself together, and looked at the speaker.

      "Jack McCabe!" he cried.

      "Yer struck it fust clip. Say, wot was der matter wid yer? Yer couldn't have been froze, coz it wasn't cold enough."

      "I was struck on the head."

      "Gee crickety! Who struck yer?"

      "I – I – nobody, I think. It was some bricks from that building."

      "Oh, dat's it. How do yer feel now?"

      "Awfully light-headed," responded Hal, telling the exact truth.

      "Kin yer walk about a block? I only live jest around dat corner."

      Hal started at these words.

      "You do?"

      "Yes."

      "Tell me, is your father janitor of a building down in Wall Street?"

      "O' course not. Didn't I tell yer we lived here?"

      Hal looked relieved.

      "What has that got to do with it?" he asked, curiously.

      "Why, dem janitors all lives in der buildin's da takes care of," explained Jack.

      "The reason I ask is because there is a Daniel McCabe janitor of the building I work in."

      "I t'ink dat's me uncle. Better now?"

      Hal took a deep breath and straightened up.

      "Yes, a good deal better."

      "Yer got a lump on yer forehead as big as an egg."

      "It feels twice that size to me," laughed Hal. "Jack, you have done me a good turn I won't forget in a hurry."

      The street boy blushed.

      "Ah! go on, dat wasn't nuthin'," he replied. "I kinder like you, tell der truth."

      "And I like you, Jack," replied Hal, giving his hand a tight squeeze.

      "Did yer git dat job?"

      "Yes."

      "How much?"

      "What do you mean?"

      "Wot do da pay yer!"

      "Seven dollars a week."

      Jack McCabe's eyes opened like saucers.

      "Yer foolin'."

      "It's true, Jack."

      "Gee crickety! but yer struck a snap. Say, if dere's enny more o' dem jobs layin' around put in a word fer me, will yer."

      "I certainly shall," replied Hal.

      "I only git t'ree dollars where I am, an' have ter work like a horse. I've jest been home ter grub, an' now I've got ter go back an' work till nine o'clock."

      "Then don't let me keep you," returned Hal, "or you may be late."

      "I've


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