Nelson The Newsboy

"How can he sell a sewing machine for a dollar?"

"When some fool sends on a dollar for the machine he sends him a needle, and when another fool sends fifty cents for the steel engraving he sends him a postage stamp picture of Washington stuck on a bit of cardboard."

"Oh!"

"He's smart, and the law can't get hold of him," went on Sam Pepper. "Another of the men is selling tips on the races. If his customer wins he gets a percentage. He gets one fool to bet one way and another fool to bet the other way, and no matter which wins he gets his share of the prize."

"I should think he would have a job, looking for fools," said the newsboy. "Folks ought to know better."

"The world is full of people who want to get something for nothing, and these men know it. But they don't make much of a pile. That's got to be made in another way."

"What way?"

"There are lots of ways, Nelson; some good and some bad. Ever been down in Wall Street?"

"Yes, but I don't know anything of the business there."

"Folks down there gamble in stocks and bonds, and such like. Sometimes they squeeze a poor man out of everything he's got, but they do it so as the law can't touch 'em—and there's where they have the advantage over an East Side gambler, who runs the risk of being arrested if his victim squeals. But Wall Street aint any better than the East Side, for all that."

"Some nice gentlemen in Wall Street, though," said Nelson reflectively.

"A high hat don't make an honest man, Nelson; you ought to know that by this time. They are all thieves and swindlers, and an honest man has no show against 'em. If you want to be rich, you've got to be like 'em!" went on Sam Pepper, bringing his fist down on the table at which he sat. "You can't make anything bein' honest."

To this the newsboy remained silent. He had heard such talk before, so he was not as much shocked as he might otherwise have been.

"I guess I'll go out and sell some evening papers," he said, after a pause, during which Sam Pepper seemed to sink into deep thought.

"No, I don't want you to go out; I want to have a talk with you," answered Pepper. "There won't be no business for an hour or two, and I'll lock the door, so nobody can interrupt us. It's got to come sooner or later, and it might as well come now."

CHAPTER V.

NELSON SPEAKS HIS MIND

Locking the front door to the lunch-room, Pepper came to the rear of the place, poured himself a glass of liquor and tossed it off, and then sank in a chair by the last table.

"Sit down, Nelson," he said.

The boy sat down and gazed curiously at the man before him. Instinctively he realized that a crisis in his life was approaching. He felt that the old life was speedily to become a thing of the past.

"Nelson, aint you often wondered who you was?" went on Pepper.

"To be sure I have!" cried the boy. "But you will never tell me anything," he added bitterly.

"Well, I kept the secret for your own good, my boy."

"How?"

"When I came to New York and settled on the East Side I made up my mind to lead an honest life and bring you up honestly. I did it, too; didn't I?"

"So far as I know, yes."

"I did it, but it was hard scratching, and you know it. Many were the times I didn't know how to turn myself, and if it hadn't been for some friends helping me, I would have gone under. Those friends were the only ones I ever knew. They weren't honest, but—well, we'll let that pass. They helped me, and I aint going back on 'em."

"But what about me?"

"I'm coming to that, Nelson. As I said before, I wanted to bring you up honestly; for your mother was honest, even if your father wasn't."

"My father!" ejaculated the newsboy. "What was he?"

"He was a good-hearted man, Nelson—a fine-hearted man, who did lots of good."

"But you said he wasn't honest."

"No, he wasn't, if you must know. He was a burglar, and made his living by taking from the rich what they didn't deserve to have. He was my friend, and he was one of the men who helped me when I lost all I had at the yacht races."

"But—but I don't understand," faltered Nelson. "What was his name?"

"I can't tell you that."

"Is he dead?"

"Yes; he died when you was a little kid not more than three years old. We both lived in another city then—I won't tell you where. Your father was shot while entering a house to rob a man who had once robbed him when he was in business. Your father died in a hospital, and I was with him. Your mother was dead, and he didn't know what to do with you. I said I'd take you, and he made me promise to go to sea first and then to another city and bring you up the best I could. He didn't want you to know your name, and so I got to calling you Nelson after the English admiral, and you can sign yourself Nelson Pepper after this, if you want to."

"Then you won't tell me where I came from?"

"No; excepting that it was a good many miles from here. It wouldn't do any good to rake up old scores. If your father hadn't died of the shot, he would have been sent to prison for ten or fifteen years."

"What was the name of the man who shot him?"

"It won't do you any good to know that, either—he's dead and gone, too."

There was a pause, and the newsboy gave something like an inward groan. The revelation that Pepper had made was truly a shocking one, and the boy was so dazed and bewildered he could scarcely think. His father a burglar, and shot down while in the act of committing a robbery! What a degradation!

"I've told you all this for a purpose," went on the man. "Now I've got some more to tell you, if you'll promise to keep your mouth shut."

"What else is there?"

"Will you keep silent if I tell you?"

"Yes."

"And do you promise not to say a word of what I have just told you?"

"Why should I—it wouldn't be anything to my credit," answered Nelson.

"But I want you to promise."

"All right; I promise."