CHAPTER III.
AN EVENING WITH BOB HUNTER.
Chilly from approaching night and strengthening wind, and depressed by adisheartening sense of loneliness and a keen realization of failure onthe first day of his new career, Herbert felt homesick and almostdiscouraged.
At length he joined the passers by, and walked quickly until oppositeCity Hall Park. He crossed Broadway and soon found himself at young BobHunter's "place of business." The latter was "in," and very glad heseemed to see his new friend again. His kindly grasp of the handand hearty welcome acted like magic upon Herbert Randolph; but hiswretchedly disheartened look did not change in time to escape the keenyoung newsboy's notice.
"Didn't strike it rich today, did you?" said he, with a smile.
"No," replied Herbert sadly.
"Didn't find no benevolent old gentleman--them as is always looking forpoor boys to help along and give 'em money and a bang up time?"
"I did not see any such philanthropist looking for me," answeredHerbert, slightly puzzled, for the newsboy's face was seriousnessitself.
"Well, that is all fired strange. I don't see how he missed you, forthey takes right to country boys."
"I did not start out very early," remarked Herbert doubtfully, and withheightened color.
"Then that's how it happened, I guess," said Bob, with a very thoughtfulair. "But you must have found somebody's pocket book----"
"What do you mean?" interrupted Herbert suspiciously.
"Mean--why what could I mean? Wasn't it plain what I said? Wasn't Ispeaking good English, I'd like to know?" said Bob, apparently injured.
"Your language was plain, to be sure, and your English was good enough,"apologized Herbert; "but I can't see why I should find anybody's pocketbook."
THE BENEVOLENT OLD GENTLEMAN PRESSES MONEY ON THE COUNTRYBOY.]
"Jest what I thought, but you see you don't know the ways of New York.You will learn, though, and you will be surprised to see how easy it isto pick up a pocket book full of greenbacks and bonds--perhaps a hundredthousand dollars in any one of 'em--and then you will take it to the manwhat lost it, and he will give you a lots of money, maby a thousanddollars or so--'twouldn't be much of a man as would do less than athousand. What do you think?"
"I don't know what to think. I cannot understand you, Bob Hunter."
"That's 'cause you don't know me, and ain't posted on what I'm saying.Maby I am springin' it on you kinder fresh for the first day, though Iguess you will stand it. But tell me, Vermont, about the runaway horsethat you stopped."
"The runaway horse that I stopped!" exclaimed Herbert. "You must be madto talk in this way."
"Mad! Well, that's good; that's the best thing I've heard of yet! Do Ilook like a fellow that's mad?" and he laughed convulsively, much to thecountry lad's annoyance.
"No, you do not look as if you were mad, but you certainly act as if youwere," replied the latter sharply.
"Now look a here, Vermont, this won't do," said Bob, very serious again."You are jest tryin' to fool me, but you can't do it, Vermont, I'll tellyou that straight. Of course I don't blame you for wantin' to be kindermodest about it, for I s'pose it seems to you like puttin' on airs toadmit you saved their lives. But then 'tain't puttin' on no airs at all.Ef I was you I'd be proud to own it; other boys always owns it, and theydon't show no modesty about it the same as what you do, either. And Idon't know why they should, for it's something to be proud of; and youknow, Vermont, the funniest thing about it is that them runaways isalways stopped by boys from the country jest like you. Don't ask me whyit happens so, for I don't know myself; but all the books will tell youthat it is so. And jest think, Vermont, how many lives they save! Youknow the coachman gets paralyzed, and the horses runs away and hetumbles off his box, and a rich lady and her daughter--they are alwaysrich, and the daughter is always in the carriage, too--funny, ain't it,but it's as true as I'm alive; and the boy rushes at the horses whenthey are going like a cyclone, and stops 'em jest as the carriage isgoing to be dashed to pieces. And then the lady cries and throws herarms round the boy, and kisses him, and puts a hundred dollars in hishands, and he refuses it. Then the lady and her daughter ask him to comeup to their house, and the next day her husband gets a bang up positionfor him, where he can make any amount of money.
"Now I call that somethin' to be proud of, as I said before, and I don'tsee no sense in your tryin' to seem ignorant about it. Why, I wouldn'tbe surprised a bit ef you would try to make out that you wasn't anearany fire today. But that wouldn't do, Vermont--I'll give you a pointeron that now, so you won't attempt no such tomfoolery with me, for no boylike you ever comes into a town like New York is and don't save somebodyfrom burning up--rescue 'em from a tall building when nobody else canget to 'em. And of course for doing this they get pushed right aheadinto something fine, while us city fellows have to shin around livelyfor a livin'.
THE COUNTRY BOY FINDS A WELL FILLED POCKET BOOK.]
"I don't know ef you saved anybody from drowning or not; I won't saythat you did, but ef you didn't you ain't in luck, that's all I've gotto say about it. So you see 'tain't much use for you to try to deceiveme, Vermont, for I know jest what's a fair day's work for a boy from thecountry--jest what's expected of him on his first day here. Why, ef youdon't believe me (and I know you don't by the way you look), jest getall the books that tells about country boys coming to New York, and readwhat they say, that's all I ask of you, Vermont. Now come, own up andtell it straight."
"Bob, you are altogether too funny," laughed Herbert, now that the driftof his friend's seemingly crazy remarks was plain to him. "How can youmanage to joke so seriously, and why do you make fun of me? Because I amfrom the country, I suppose."
"I hope I didn't hurt your feelings, Vermont," replied Bob, enjoyinggreatly his own good natured satire.
"No, not at all, Bob Hunter, but until I saw your joke I thought surelyyou were insane."
"Well, you see, I thought you needed something to kinder knock the bluesthat you brought back with you tonight--'tain't much fun to have 'em, isit? Sometimes I get 'em myself, so I know what they're like. But now tobe honest, and not fool no more, didn't you get no show today?"
"No, not the least bit of encouragement," replied Herbert.
"And you kept up the hunt all day?"
"Yes."
"I ought ter told you that that warn't no use."
"How is that?"
"Why, don't you see, it's the first fellers what gets the jobs--them asgets round early."
"And are there so many applicants for every position?"
"Are there? Well, you jest bet there are. I've seen more'n two hundredboys after a place, and 'twan't nothin' extra of a place, either."
"But then there are thousands of places to be filled. Why, the paperswere full of them."
"Yes, and there is a good many more thousands what wants them same jobs.You never thought of that, I guess."
Herbert admitted with flushed cheeks that he had not given that factproper consideration.
"Well, you done well, any way, to hang on so long," said Bob, in his offhand, comical manner. "I expected you'd get sick before this time, andsteer straight for Vermont."
"Why did you think that?"
THE COUNTRY BOY TO THE RESCUE.]
"Well, most of the country boys think they can pick up money on thestreets in New York; but when they get here, and begin to hunt for it,they tumble rather spry--I mean they find they've been took in, and thata fellow has got to work harder, yes, I'd say so, ten times harder,here'n he does on a farm. There he can just sleep and laze round in thesun, and go in swimmin', and all the time the stuff is just growin' andwhoopin' her right along, like as if I was boss of a dozen boys, andthey was all sellin' papers and I was makin' a profit on 'em all, andwasn't doin' nothin' myself. So when these fellers find out they've gotto knuckle down and shine shoes, why they just light out kinder lively,and make up their minds that New York ain't much of a town no how."
"And so yo
u thought I would 'light out' too," laughed Herbert.
"Well, I didn't know. I told you I liked your looks, but I hain't muchfaith in nobody till I know what kind of stuff a feller is made of. Butif he's got any sand in him, then I'll bet on his winning right herein New York, and he won't have to go back home for his bread. Well,speakin' of bread reminds me that it's about time to eat something andI'm all fired hungry, and you look es ef 'twould do you good to get alittle somethin' warm in your stomach. Funny, ain't it, we can't donothin' without eatin'? But we can't, so let's eat. Business is aboutover, and I don't mind leavin' a little early, any way."
Herbert assented gladly to this proposition, and presently Bob tookhim up Chatham Street to an eating house known as the "Boss TweedRestaurant"--a restaurant the cheapness of which recommended it, fivecents being the established price for a meal.
"I s'pose you hain't made no plans for a place to sleep yet?" said thenewsboy, while eating their frugal fare.
"No," replied Herbert. "I thought I would wait and see you before makingany move in that direction. You are the only one I know in the city."
"And 'tain't much you know about me."
"Very true; but from your appearance I'm satisfied to trust myself withyou."
"You're takin' big chances ef you do," replied Bob, happily; "but ef youwant to take the resk, why we will jest look up a room and occupy ittogether. I kinder think I'd like the scheme. I've been sleepin' at theNewsboys' Lodging House, but I'm tired of it. What do you say?"
"I say yes," replied Herbert. He was only too glad of the chance, andliked the idea of having Bob Hunter for a room mate. He thought therewould be something fascinating about living with a newsboy, and learningthis phase of life in a great city, especially when the newsboy was sodroll as Bob Hunter had already shown himself to be.
AT THE BOSS TWEED RESTAURANT.]
"All right, then, it's a go," replied Bob, greatly pleased.
When the meal had been finished they continued up Chatham Street intothe Bowery, and then turned into a side street where inexpensive roomswere offered for rent. After a little hunting they found one at a costof one dollar a week which proved satisfactory. They immediately tookpossession, and went to bed very early, as Herbert was practically wornout.