The Newsboy Partners: or, Who Was Dick Box?

"Do what?"

"Bunk in wid a chap like me."

"I don't see why not," replied Dick sturdily. "After what you did for me I'm not going to lose sight of you so soon as that. I'll be only too glad to bunk in with you. In fact, you are the only person I know."

"Can't youse t'ink anyt'ing about yerself – what yer name is an' where ye come from?" asked Jimmy eagerly, for he had in mind the possible reward and he wanted to get a clue as to who Dick's folks might be.

"Not a thing," replied the other, shaking his head a little sadly. "I think I had a good home once, for I have a dim recollection of a big house with lots of ground around it. And I remember a man and a woman who were kind to me. But that's all I can remember, try as hard as I can. It seems as if it was many years ago."

Jimmy shook his head in doubt.

"Dem kind of tips ain't goin' t' be any good t' me," he mused. "I'll have t' depend on Dutchy. If he sees anyt'ing in de papes about a reward he'll tell me. Den, maybe I kin take Dick dere an' git money enough t' buy a newspaper stand. Dat sure would be all to de merry."

"But aren't you going out?" asked Dick, after a pause, during which he had racked his brain to try and remember more about himself.

"Sure, if youse wants t'," replied Jimmy. "Come on an' we'll have grub. Den it'll be time fer de afternoon extras. I hope business is better dan it was yist'day."

The two boys ate in a restaurant near the lodging-house. Dick's appetite was good, and though the food was coarse and not served in very nice style, he ate heartily.

"Don't you like pie?" he asked Jimmy, toward the close of the meal.

"Betcherlife I do."

"Why don't you have some, then?"

"Say, if we is goin' t' hire a room, regular, an' pay rent we can't have pie," replied the newsboy, "dat is except when ye makes a lot extra. Pie is too high livin' fer de likes of newsies."

"Well, suppose we have some to-day," proposed Dick. "I will stand treat this time."

"Dat's good," answered Jimmy gratefully. "I kin eat it all right, but I was goin' slow on de coin."

"I guess you will have to teach me how to use money," went on Dick, as the waiter brought two pieces of pie. "I never earned any in my life, that I can remember, though I used to spend considerable. I'll have to learn business ways now."

"Oh, youse'll learn fast enough," said Jimmy. "It ain't hard not t' spend cash when ye ain't got it, an' dat, mostly, is de complaint I suffer from. I seen me doctor about it, but he said I'd have t' have a change of climate. I kin see meself gittin' dat. But come on. De extras is out now."

Dick followed Jimmy to Newspaper Row, where the latter secured a big bundle of papers from one of the many delivery wagons that were backed up to the curb. Then the newsboy started for his regular stand, getting there just a little ahead of Bulldog.

"Dis is de time I fooled yer," said Jimmy in triumph. "Wuxtry! Wuxtry!" he shouted. "Git de latest wuxtry!"

Bulldog moved off with a sullen look, glancing at Dick as he did so.

"Wonder where Bricks picked up dat kid?" he thought.

Meanwhile Dick was watching with interest the manner in which Jimmy disposed of his papers. Business seemed to be good, as there was quite a crowd in the street, and many persons bought the extras.

"Can't I help you?" he asked Jimmy, during a lull in the stream of pedestrians.

"How d'ye mean?"

"Why, sell papers. Can't I take some and go up and down the street? I think I could sell some."

"Sure ye might," replied Jimmy, glad of the offer. "Here, take a bunch. But ye got t' holler loud, or de men won't notice ye. Shout out dat dere's a big fire or some terrible accident."

"Is there? I didn't see anything in the papers about it."

"Course dere ain't, but de men won't know till after dey has paid fer de paper."

"But that's saying what isn't so."

"Aw, what's de odds? We all does it, an' de men knows we does it, so dey ain't fooled."

"I don't like to do that," objected Dick. "I think a better way would be to look over the papers, see what the principal articles are about, and call them out."

"Aw, dat way wouldn't be no good. What de public wants is t' read about a big fire or a murder or a suicide. Dat's what I allers yells out. Anyhow, I can't tell what's in de papes."

"You can't? Why not?"

"'Cause I can't read."

Dick did not pursue his inquiries any further, as he did not want to hurt Jimmy's feelings.

"Well," he said, "give me some papers and I'll do my best to sell them. But," he added, with a smile, "I'm not going to say there's a murder if there isn't."

"Den youse'll not sell any papes."

Dick took an armful of the journals and started down Broadway. He knew a little of the run of the streets in that section, as Jimmy had told him about them, and he knew he would soon be in the financial district, where the brokers and bankers had their offices.

In spite of his recent accident, and his trouble over forgetting who he was, Dick had a good head for business, even though it was the first time he had tried to sell newspapers. He decided to look over the front pages and learn just what were the principal items of news. He had not forgotten how to read and write, though many other things had slipped from his recollection.

He saw there was a long article concerning a big bank failure, and another about an important notice sent out by the United States Treasurer.

"Those ought to interest the bankers and business men more than murders and fires," thought Dick. "I guess I'll call out about those."

He was, naturally, a little bashful about shouting as did the other newsboys, but he made up his mind that, as he was thrown on his own resources by a queer trick of fate, he must do his best to earn a living.

"Here goes," he said, as he approached a group of well-dressed men standing at Broadway and Cortlandt Street.

"Excuse me," he began, in a clear but not very loud voice, as he stood near the men, "but would any of you gentlemen like to buy the latest extra? It has an account of the failure of the Morrisville Trust Company and a decision of the United States Treasurer on gold shipments. Besides, there is all the latest news."

Probably no regular newsboy in all the big city of New York would have thought to try that means of selling papers. All they did was to shout: "Wuxtry! Wuxtry!" or "Fire! Murder! Suicide!"

"Hello! What's this?" exclaimed one of the gentlemen, turning around and beholding Dick. "What sort of a newsboy is this, who doesn't shout his head off at you?"

"What did you say about the Morrisville Trust Company?" asked another gentleman nervously.

"It has failed. Here is a full account of it," and Dick showed the paper with the story on the front page, under a big, black heading.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed the man who had asked the question. "That's bad for me. Here! Give me a paper."