Kitabı oku: «The Newsboy Partners: or, Who Was Dick Box?», sayfa 9
CHAPTER XXIV
MR. CROSSCRAB'S VISIT
Business with the partners went on as usual for several days. There was a brisk demand for papers, and slowly they saw the little savings in the bank grow. They began to have visions of a fine stand by Christmas, and the one they had first considered was still in their mind, for the owner had not succeeded in disposing of it.
"Dick," remarked Jimmy one night, "I've got a new scheme."
"What is it?" and Dick looked up from the book he was reading at his partner on the other side of the table. Jimmy was laboriously figuring on the back of an old envelope.
"Well, you know that weekly illustrated paper that's making such a hit now? It comes out every Friday, an' lots of the boys sell it."
"Yes, I know the one you mean. What about it?"
"I was thinking we might add it to our stock. If we did, and sold enough of 'em, we could make quite a bit. There's two and a half cents profit on each copy, and if we sold fifty each that'd be two dollars and a half each week."
"Good! You're coming on with your arithmetic," exclaimed Dick. "Why, that sounds good, Jimmy. Let's do it."
"There's one thing agin it, though."
"What's that?"
"There's no returns. You can't take back what you don't sell, and we might lose on it."
"Well, I suppose we'll have to take that risk. Business men generally have to venture something."
"I know, but we ain't got much capital. If we was to lose a dollar in the week it wouldn't be no fun."
"No; still I think it's worth trying."
"Then I'll do it. I'll order a stock for this Friday, and we'll see what we can do."
Jimmy was glad his chum had agreed to the scheme, which the older newsboy had had in mind for some time, ever since he saw how well some of his companions were doing with the new weekly, which was making quite a bid for trade.
Accordingly, when Friday came, Jimmy got up early, and purchased one hundred copies of the periodical. These he divided with Dick, and the two boys, rather more heavily laden than usual, started out for their day's business.
If Dick thought he was going to dispose of all his copies of the new weekly quickly, he was much disappointed. Down in the financial section he sold his usual number of daily papers, but, when it came to disposing of the other, he had no luck.
"Why, I get that magazine at home every Friday morning," said one broker, the one for whom Dick had delivered the letter that day he nearly was arrested at the park fountain. "I subscribe for it."
"Then you don't want two copies," spoke Dick cheerfully, though he began to have his doubts about Jimmy's new scheme.
He found that nearly every person whom he asked to buy the weekly received it at his house, either through the mail, or from some boy who had a route in that vicinity. He did manage to sell a few copies, but not enough to pay for carrying the fifty around.
"I don't believe you'll have much of a success with that," said a banker, who was one of Dick's steady customers. "The concern sent out an army of agents to get subscriptions by the year, before allowing boys to sell it on the streets, and persons down here haven't time to read a magazine like that during business hours. We get it at our homes."
Before the day was over Dick began to believe this was true. He only managed to sell twelve copies out of the fifty he had taken out, and, as the sale of the magazine was practically over on the day of publication, he could see a financial loss staring him in the face.
"That is, unless Jimmy managed to dispose of all of his," he thought. "Guess I'll quit now, and go up and see how he's making out."
He found Jimmy on his corner, busily engaged in disposing of the evening papers, for his customers did not stop work as early as did those in the financial section.
"How's the new weekly going, Jimmy?" asked 'Dick, when there came a lull in trade.
"Rotten!" was Jimmy's characteristic answer. "It's a regular lemon, down here. It's on de blink. I sold ten copies, and I couldn't get rid of another one. So I stowed 'em away, and I got busy with me – I mean my – regular papers. No trouble to sell them. How'd you make out?"
"Not much better. I sold twelve."
"Say, ain't that the limit? I'll never try a new stunt like that ag'in. Everybody I struck to buy one, had one already, or got it home."
"Same with me," agreed Dick.
"Well, I can see us losin' some of our hard-earned plunks," went on Jimmy.
"Never mind," consoled his partner. "We made a good try, and we'll know better next time."
"You bet I will. What's that the book says about a trolley conductor stickin' to his car?"
"I guess you mean the one about the shoemaker sticking to his last," said Dick, with a smile.
"Well, last or first, it don't make much difference, only I'm going to stick to daily papers after this. Crimps! T'ink what a lot of fun we could have had with de chink we lost!"
"Well, we'll make it up, somehow," said Dick. "Don't worry over it."
But Jimmy could not help it, and it was some time before he got over the financial disaster which came to him and his partner. However, it was, as Dick said, a good lesson to them, not to venture into a field of which they knew nothing.
Jimmy had, under Dick's guidance, resumed his studies at night, and Frank Merton came in occasionally. The boys began to plan on attending night school as soon as the term opened, which would be in a few weeks.
"Then you'll have to study harder than you do now, Jimmy," said Dick. "Those teachers will not be as easy on you as I am."
"Well, I guess I can stand it," answered Jimmy, with a little sigh. "As long as I've got to read and write and do arithmetic, I might as well learn to do it good."
One evening, when Jimmy had not come in, as he had undertaken to dispose of a lot of late extras, Dick sat alone in the room. He was vainly puzzling over his queer case, and wondering if he would ever learn who he was, and who his folks were, if he had any. He tried and tried again to penetrate back into the past, but he had to stop at a certain place. And that was a confused scene, where he found himself in a crowd, felt a stunning blow on the head and then awoke in the box with Jimmy.
"I'm afraid that's as near it as I ever shall get," thought poor Dick. "If only I could see something, or somebody, or hear something said that would recall the past. But I can't."
A little later some one knocked on the door. Thinking it was Mr. Snowden, who used to call on the permanent lodgers in the house occasionally, Dick called out an invitation to enter.
A tall young man came in. He was a stranger to Dick, who looked at him in the light of the gas-jet, wondering what was wanted.
"Is Jimmy Small here?" asked the young man.
"He is out selling papers," replied Dick. "I'm his partner. Can I do anything for you."
"Well, I just dropped in to pay him a friendly visit, as I promised I would. I'm Mr. Crosscrab."
"Oh, yes, I've often heard Jimmy speak of you. Won't you sit down. He'll soon be in."
Dick stepped out of the shadow cast by a shelf on the wall and offered Mr. Crosscrab a chair. As the light fell upon the boy's face the visitor stepped back in amazement.
"Who – who are you?" asked Mr. Crosscrab.
"Why, I'm Jimmy's partner."
"Yes, but what – what is your name?"
"Well, Jimmy calls me Dick Box. My first name is Dick, but I have forgotten my other."
"Yes, yes! I know. You're Dick Box. At least, that's what Jimmy calls you. But – yes, it must be – yet I had better make certain before I tell him," and these last words Mr. Crosscrab murmured in a low voice.
Dick did not know what to make of the man's manner.
"What is it?" he asked. "What is the matter?"
"I wish I had known this before I went to Vermont," went on Mr. Crosscrab, speaking to himself. "Yet it must be the same one. But how could he be here when he's supposed to be in Chicago?"
Dick began to be a little alarmed. He thought perhaps Mr. Crosscrab might be a little insane. He wished Jimmy would come in.
"Can't you remember your other name?" asked the visitor. "Try – try very hard."
"I have tried – every day, but it's no use."
"Do you know where you came from?"
"No. All I can remember is a large house with lots of ground about it, and a man and woman who were kind to me. Oh, Mr. Crosscrab, do you know anything about me? Do you know who I am? Tell me, please, if you do!"
"I am not sure, yet you look exactly the same. Tell me, can you remember anything about the house where you used to live?"
Dick puzzled his brain. Strange shadows seemed to flit past him, yet they meant nothing.
"Can you recall a little brook that used to run in front of the house, across the road, and a little rustic bridge that spanned it?" asked Mr. Crosscrab.
"Yes! Yes!" cried Dick eagerly. "I begin to remember now. Help me, please do!"
At that instant the door opened and Jimmy entered. He looked in surprise at Mr. Crosscrab, and then Dick's manner showed him something unusual was taking place.
"What is the matter, Dick?" he asked. "Are you sick again?"
"No, but Mr. Crosscrab thinks he knows who I am. He is trying to help me remember."
"I am not sure," replied the visitor in answer to Jimmy's look. "This is the first time I have seen your partner, and I do not want to raise false hopes. Yet he may be a certain boy of whom I heard on my recent visit to my home in Vermont."
"Who is he?" asked Jimmy.
"Perhaps I had better tell you the story," suggested Mr. Crosscrab. "Then we can decide what to do. But don't be disappointed if, after all, the secret of Dick Box is still unsolved."
"Oh, I hope I can find out who I am," murmured the boy who had forgotten the past.
"When I was home this trip," went on Mr. Crosscrab, "I heard my father tell about a friend of his owning a farm not far away whose son is missing. The boy had been gone for several months, but the father only just learned of it."
"How was that?" asked Jimmy.
"This way: The farmer I speak of lived with his wife and son on a big farm near my father's. One day, some time ago, all three started for New York. The farmer and his wife had to go to Europe to settle up an estate to which the farmer had fallen heir, and his wife went with him. As they expected to travel about considerably, for part of the property was in Germany and part in France, they decided not to take their son with them. He was to be sent to a cousin in Chicago who would care for him until his parents returned.
"The three arrived in New York, where the boy was to take a train for Chicago and the father and mother embark on a ship for Europe. They took their son to the Grand Central Station here, and, bidding him farewell, left him just before he was to take his train as they had to go aboard their vessel. That was the last they saw of their son. They went to Europe, and as they had to travel about more than they expected they lost considerable of their mail. They never got a letter from the cousin in Chicago telling about their son, but they did not worry, for, though they would liked to have heard from him, they thought he was all right. They wrote a number of letters to him, but he never got them."
"Why not?" asked Dick, who was deeply interested.
"Because the boy never got to Chicago. He disappeared somewhere between here and there, maybe after arriving in the western city. His father and mother never knew it until they came back from Europe last week. Then, in answer to a telegram to the cousin in Chicago asking how their son was, there came a message saying he had never arrived. The cousin, after receiving letters from the other side, which indicated that the boy's parents believed their son was with her, had tried to send them word that he had never arrived, but of course the messages did not reach the boy's father and mother.
"So they never knew until they got back the other day that he has been missing all this while. They are heartbroken, and they have hired private detectives to find him if possible. This is the story my father told me when I was home, and he showed me a picture of the missing boy."
"Does the picture look like me?" demanded Dick.
"Very much. So much so that I was startled when I came in here and saw you."
"What's the missing boy's name?" asked Jimmy.
"Dick Sanden."
"That's me! That's me!" exclaimed Dick, springing to his feet. "I remember now! I'm Dick Box no longer! I'm Dick Sanden! I remember it all! Oh, how glad I am!"
"Are you sure?" asked Mr. Crosscrab, for he did not want the boy to be mistaken. "Be careful now. What is your father's name?"
"My father's name? My father's name?" murmured Dick. "I – I can't seem to remember." He passed his hand across his forehead. "I can't recall that," he said piteously.
CHAPTER XXV
WHO DICK BOX WAS – CONCLUSION
Crossing the room Mr. Crosscrab put his arm about Dick.
"You must calm yourself," he said, for the boy was on the verge of tears and a nervous breakdown. "Let us reason this matter out. I really believe we can establish your identity, but we must go slowly. Your memory can not all come back at once. It will take a little time."
"Do you know his father's name?" asked Jimmy.
"Yes, if that man is his father. But I wanted to see if he could recall it. That would almost prove that Dick Box is Dick Sanden. Mr. Sanden's name is Oliver, and he lives in the township of Slaterville, Vermont."
"That's it! I remember now!" cried Dick joyfully. "My father is Mr. Oliver Sanden, of Slaterville. Now I am sure who I am."
"We must not be too positive," cautioned Mr. Crosscrab with a smile. "Your memory may be playing you tricks again, and you may think because I mention a name that it is the one you have forgotten. However, we can soon make sure."
"How?" inquired Jimmy with tremendous interest.
"I will telegraph my father to go at once and see Mr. Sanden. He can come here to-morrow morning, and then we can make positive if Dick Box is Richard Sanden."
"I'm sure I am," said Dick with a smile. "It is beginning to come back to me now. I remember father and mother starting for Europe and how I was to go to Chicago."
"What happened after you got to the Grand Central Station?" asked Jimmy. "Why didn't you go to Chicago?"
"That's something I can't remember. That's still a puzzle."
"Well, don't worry over it," advised Mr. Crosscrab. "We will try and have it all straightened out to-morrow. You had better lie down and rest."
"Lie down! I couldn't lie down when I am thinking this way," replied Dick. "I am so anxious to see my parents."
After a few more questions Mr. Crosscrab was reasonably certain that Dick Box was indeed Dick Sanden, for Dick could describe different parts of the farm and things in Slaterville with which Mr. Crosscrab was familiar.
The two boys were eager to talk over the unexpected discovery of Dick's identity as made by Mr. Crosscrab, but the latter insisted that Dick must be kept quiet, and he threatened to take Jimmy away unless they got more calm, as he feared Dick would become ill again.
It seemed to Dick that he would never get to sleep, but at length his brain, tired with the many thoughts that flitted through it, was quiet, and he slept heavily until morning. Meanwhile Mr. Crosscrab had sent off the telegram.
Dick and Jimmy decided not to sell papers the next day. They were both too excited to pay proper attention to the business, and Frank Merton and Sam Schmidt were called on.
How long the hours seemed before it would be possible for Mr. Sanden to arrive! There had come a telegram to Mr. Crosscrab stating that he had started from Slaterville at midnight and expected to be in New York about noon.
As Jimmy, Dick and Mr. Crosscrab sat in the room of the newsboy partners anxiously waiting there sounded out in the corridor the tramp of several feet.
"That's the room right in there," they heard Mr. Snowdon say, directing some one. The next instant the door opened. In rushed a man and woman.
"Dick!" they exclaimed in a breath, and a moment later Dick was folded in the arms of his father and mother.
For Dick Box was really Dick Sanden, and the mystery of his identity was solved.
What a happy time followed, and how fervent were the thanks poured out on Mr. Crosscrab for his part in the affair I leave my young readers to imagine.
"I remember it all now," said Dick after he had talked with his parents and many things had been explained.
"All but how you came to wander off and sleep in that box," said his mother with a smile.
"I think I can explain that," said Mr. Crosscrab. "I made some inquiries at the Grand Central Station to-day. It appears that on the day Dick was to start for Chicago there was an accident. A boy waiting on the platform to take a train was hit on the head by a trunk which fell from the top of a pile on a truck. The boy was knocked unconscious, and an ambulance was summoned to take him to the hospital. The ambulance doctor temporarily dressed the boy's injury and placed him in the vehicle, together with a valise the boy had with him.
"The start was made for the hospital. On the way the ambulance had to stop because of a blockade on account of a fire. The doctor left his place at the rear of the vehicle to see if there was any need of his services, for there was a rumor some one had been burned in the blaze, and when he came back his boy patient was gone. And from that time to this the authorities never heard anything about him. They concluded he had not been badly hurt, and had slipped out of the ambulance and run away, not being noticed in the crowd. The valise was also gone, and from the fact that Dick did not have it when he awoke in the box, it was probably stolen."
"And I guess that's what happened," said Dick's father. "The valise contained Dick's tickets and most of his money. He probably partly regained his senses in the ambulance, slipped out and wandered around, half dazed, forgetting all about himself, until he found the box and went to sleep in it."
"My poor boy!" said his mother, unable to keep back the tears. "What a terrible time you had! Oh, how worried we were when we got back from Europe and found your cousin knew nothing about you!"
"Yes, you must have worried, mother," said Dick, "but I got along pretty well. Jimmy and I have built up a fine business. I'm almost sorry I can't stay and help him buy that stand."
"Don't let that worry you, my son," said Mr. Sanden with a smile and a hearty hand-clasp for Jimmy. "I'll see that your partner has the finest stand in New York."
"Crimps!" exclaimed Jimmy, forgetting himself under the excitement of the occasion. "Dat'll be bul – I mean that will be fine!"
And so it turned out. Mr. Sanden was a wealthy man, more so than ever since coming into the European property, and Jimmy was made proprietor of one of the largest and finest news-stands in the big city. For fear sharpers might take advantage of him, Mr. Crosscrab and Mr. Snowden agreed to look after certain matters for him.
"But I won't have any partner," said Jimmy, when details had been arranged about the stand, and arrangements made for Dick and his parents to go home.
"Yes, you will," said Dick with a smile. "Frank Merton is going to be your partner, and Sam Schmidt will be general assistant."
Thus it was arranged, and to-day those newsboy partners, (the three of them, for Sam was given a share in the business) do a large business in papers and magazines.
As for Dick Box – I mean Dick Sanden – he went back to Slaterville, where many friends whom he had forgotten for a short period were very glad to see him. He often comes to New York now, for he has grown to be quite a man, and he never forgets to visit Jimmy, Frank and Sam, who are now useful and respected citizens. So, you see, the misfortune which came to our hero was the means of good to several, and the little partnership started between Jimmy and Dick had a far-reaching result.
