Nelson The Newsboy

"Going into business with George Van Pelt, eh?" he observed, when Nelson came home that night.

"Yes."

"He's a poor sort. He'll never get rich. He's not slick enough."

"I'm satisfied with him," returned the newsboy briefly.

"What did you take in to-day?"

"A little over nine dollars."

"Phew! that's better than I thought. How much profit?"

"About three dollars and a half above expenses."

"And you git half?"

"Yes."

"Then you ought to pay me more board money."

"I'm paying all it's worth now. I get no more meals, remember—I only use this place to sleep in."

"Well, that's worth more."

"I'm thinking of getting a room near the stand," went on Nelson, after a pause.

"What! you want to leave me!" roared Sam Pepper.

"Why not? There is nothing to keep me here. I don't want anything to do with your saloon."

"That's a nice way to talk to me."

"I can't help it. I hate the saloon, and it's too far to come down here just to sleep; especially when I have to leave so early in the morning."

"Supposing I don't let you leave?"

To this Nelson made no reply.

"You're a nice son, I must say," went on Sam Pepper. "This is what I git for raising you."

"I am not your son, Sam Pepper. As for what you've done for me, I'm willing to pay you for that. You let me leave without any fuss and I'll give you two dollars a week until the debt is paid."

"Two dollars a week aint much."

"It's all I can afford, with my other expenses."

"Reckon you don't care much for me, any more."

"I never did care for you, and you know it. I don't like drinking people and the other kind that hang around here. I want to become respectable and make something of myself."

"Aint I respectable?" roared Pepper, raising his fist in anger. "Say that again, and I'll knock you down."

"I said that I didn't like the crowd that hangs around here. I'm going to get out, whether you take up my offer or not."

"Then clear out—and the sooner the better. It's a pity I didn't kick you out," growled Sam Pepper, walking the floor savagely. "Go! go to-night!"

"I will," answered our hero.

No more was said, and the boy tied up what little clothing he had in a newspaper. He was soon ready to depart, and then he faced Pepper again.

"Good-by," he said, holding out his hand. "Let us part friends."

"You've missed it by turning against me," said Pepper, with a strange look in his eyes. "I might have made you rich."

"How?"

"Never mind now. You can go your way, and I'll go mine. I don't want to shake hands. Go!" And he turned his back on the newsboy.

"One word more, before I leave," said our hero. "Will you tell me my right name?"

"I won't tell you anything. If Nelson Pepper aint good enough for you, you can make the name what you please."

"Then good-by," said Nelson, a little sadly, and in a moment more he was gone.

It was so late he knew not where to look for a room that night, so trudged back to the stand. It was entirely inclosed with wooden shutters, and large enough inside for him to make himself fairly comfortable, and there he remained until daylight.

"I'm glad to hear you've left Pepper," said George Van Pelt, when he heard the news. "He's a bad fellow, and getting worse. If you want, you can get a room in the house next to where I live."

"What will they charge me?"

"You can get a small, but clean, hall bedroom for a dollar a week."

"That will just suit me," answered our hero.

The place was but three blocks away from the stand, and Nelson made the necessary arrangements that afternoon, during the time when trade was dull.

Nelson wondered what Pepper had meant by saying he had missed it in turning against the man. Did Pepper refer to the past, or did he have in mind what he could leave when he died?

"I don't want a cent of his money," our hero told himself; "but I would like to solve the mystery of my birth and parentage."

CHAPTER XVII.

A BOLD MOVE

On the night following Nelson's leave-taking from Sam Pepper's establishment the keeper of the resort stood behind his bar, doing business as usual. The place now glistened with glasses and mirrors, but its so-called beauty was lost to view in the tobacco smoke which filled every nook and corner.

The lunch tables had given place to little round affairs where the patrons might drink and play cards, and several of the tables were filled by a noisy crowd.