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The Young Outlaw; or, Adrift in the Streets, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 23. Sam Falls Into Bad Company |
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_ CHAPTER XXIII. SAM FALLS INTO BAD COMPANY For a time matters went on smoothly. Sam was abashed by the result of his experiment, and discouraged from making another. He felt that he had a good place. Living chiefly at the lodging-house his expenses were small, and four dollars a week were ample to meet them. There was one thing he missed, however,--the freedom to roam about the streets at will. He felt this the more when the pleasant spring weather came on. There were times when he got sick of the confinement, and longed to leave the office. It was a bright morning in May when Dr. Graham called from the inner office:-- "Sam." "What, sir?" "Do you know the way to Brooklyn?" "Yes, sir." "I want you to go over there for me." "All right, sir." It may be explained that Dr. Graham, on the first of May, had moved over to Brooklyn, and was occupying a house about a mile from Fulton Ferry. "I want you to go to my house," said the doctor, "No. -- H---- street, and carry this letter to my wife." "Yes, sir." "I forgot entirely to leave her some money to meet a bill; but if you go at once it will reach her in time. Stay, I will give you the address on a card." "All right, sir." "Here is a quarter. It will pay your car-fare, and over the ferry both ways. Now, mind you come back as quick as you can." This Sam readily promised. He was glad to get away for the morning, as he calculated that the expedition would take him nearly, or quite, three hours. He took a car and got out at the Astor House. On his way down to the ferry he met an old street acquaintance,--Jim Nolan. "How are you, Sam?" said Jim. "Tip-top!" answered Sam. "Where do you keep yourself? Are you blackin' boots, now?" "No," answered Sam, with rather an important air. "I'm in an office." "How much do you get?" "Four dollars a week." "That's good. How'd you get it?" "Oh, the doctor took a fancy to me, and asked me to come." "You're in luck. So you're with a doctor?" "Yes,--Dr. Graham. He's a corn-doctor." "Where does he hang out?" "No.--, Broadway." "Do you have much to do?" "Not very much." "How do you come down here, then?" "I'm takin' a letter to Brooklyn for the doctor." "Are you?" "Yes," said Sam; adding unluckily, "There's money in it." "Is there?" said Jim, pricking up his ears. "How do you know? Let's see the letter." Sam took the letter from his inside coat-pocket, and passed it to Jim. The latter held it up to the light, and tried to look inside. Fortune favored his efforts. The envelope was imperfectly fastened, and came open. "There, Jim," said Sam, "now see what you've done." "Let's look inside, and see how much money there is," suggested Jim. Sam hesitated. "It won't do any harm to look at it," said the tempter. "That's so," said Sam. He accordingly drew out the enclosure, and disclosed two ten-dollar bills. Jim's eyes sparkled with greed. "Twenty dollars!" he exclaimed. "What a lot of good that would do us!" Sam's principles were not firm, but he had a good place, and the temptation was not as strong as in Jim's case; so he answered, "Maybe it would, but it aint ours." Jim fastened his little black eyes on Sam cunningly. "It might be," he answered. "How could it be?" "You could keep it." "The doctor'd find it out." "Tell him somebody hooked it out of your pocket. He wouldn't know." Sam shook his head. "I aint goin to lose a good place just for that," he said. "Think what a lot of things you could do for ten dollars," urged Jim. "Twenty, you mean." "That's ten apiece, isn't it?" "Oh, you want some, do you?" inquired Sam. "Yes; I'll take it from you, and then give you back half. So, it'll be me that stole it. They can't do nothin' to you. Come, I'll go over to Brooklyn with you, and then you can make up your mind." On board the boat Jim renewed his persuasions, and finally Sam yielded. "I'm afraid the doctor'll think I took it," he said. "No matter! He can't prove nothin'." "We'll find it hard to change the bills." "No we won't. I'll tell you where to go. Can you play billiards?" "No; but I'd like to learn." "I know, and I'll learn you. There's a saloon over in Brooklyn where we can go and have a game. We'll pay out of one of the bills." Now Sam had long wanted to learn the game of billiards, and this seemed a good opportunity. Perhaps this consideration as much as any determined him to close with his friend's proposal. When, therefore, they had reached the Brooklyn side, instead of taking the horse-cars to Dr. Graham's house, Sam followed his companion to a low billiard saloon not far away. There were four tables, one of which only was occupied, for it was too early. On one side of the room was a bar, behind which stood a man in his shirt-sleeves. "Well, boys, what do you want?" he asked. "We want a table," said Jim. "We're goin to play a game." The man in the shirt-sleeves produced, from underneath the counter, a green pasteboard box containing four ivory billiard balls. "What table will you have?" he asked. "This one here," said Jim, leading the way to one farthest from the door. "Now take a cue, Sam," he said. "We'll have a jolly game." "You must tell me how to play." "Oh, I'll learn you." Jim was not a very skilful player, but he knew something about the game, and under his instruction Sam made some progress, being able to make a shot now and then. He was very much pleased with the game, and determined to devote his spare earnings to this form of recreation hereafter. When the game was ended, a full hour had passed. "I didn't think it was so late," said Sam, starting. "I shall have to go." "Go and pay for the game first." "You ought to pay half." "No; I beat. The one that loses the game has to pay." "Of course you beat. It was my first game." "Never mind. You'll soon play as well as I, and then I shall have to pay half the time." "Do you think I'll improve?" "Of course you will. We'll play again to-night." "Here?" "No, in New York. I'll show you a good saloon in Chatham street." Sam stepped up to the counter. "How much do you want?" he asked. "Sixty cents." "It's only twenty-five cents a game," said Jim Nolan. "Your game was longer than two ordinary ones. I'll call it fifty cents." Sam produced the ten-dollar bill, and received in return nine dollars and a half. The clerk was rather surprised at a boy presenting so large a bill. He suspected that it was not come by honestly; but, as he argued, that was none of his business. What he cared for most was to get paid for the billiards. So Sam, who had felt a little uneasy about offering the money, was more at his ease. "We had a good game, didn't we?" said Jim. "Yes," said Sam. "And you did bully for the first time. I couldn't play so well my first game." Sam felt flattered by this compliment from his companion. "Now I must go back," he said. "I'll go along back with you. But we'll take a drink first. I want to change my bill too." "Why didn't you do it in the billiard-saloon? They had a bar there." "They might suspect something if both of us offered tens. Here's a place close by. Come in here." Jim led the way into a drinking-saloon, and Sam followed. "It's my treat," said Jim. "What'll you have?" "What are you goin' to take?" "A whiskey-punch." "I'll take one too." "Two whiskey-punches, and mind you make 'em stiff," said Jim. He tossed down his glass, but Sam drank more slowly. Jim paid for the drinks, and they went out into the street. _ |
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