For a time the boy did not know what to do. He realized that he must hurry back to the lodging-house, but how to reach there was another question. He thought of getting on a trolley car, telling the conductor his plight, and asking for free transportation. Then there was his fare to pay across the bridge, though, of course, he could walk. For that matter he could tramp the entire distance, but it would take him quite a while; and, meanwhile, what might happen to d.i.c.k? He felt rather dubious about asking the trolley car conductor to trust him. Probably the man would not believe his story.

"I certainly am up against it good and hard!" said Jimmy to himself.

Rapidly he considered matters. Then, as he saw a light shining from a distant house, he made up his mind to ask for help. He thought over what he had better say, and then, determining to be bold, as the case demanded, he rang the bell and asked for the loan of ten cents, as that was all he needed to get home.

"I'll leave you my watch for security," went on Jimmy, after he had explained to the lady some of the circ.u.mstances of the case. "It's only a dollar one, but it's new and it keeps good time."

Fortunately Jimmy had approached a kind woman, who had a boy of her own, and she not only loaned him the ten cents, but fifteen more, giving him a quarter. Nor would she take the watch as security. Jimmy promised to return the money the next day, and then, profuse in his thanks, he hurried for the trolley and caught a car for Brooklyn Bridge.

Arriving at the lodging-house he hurried to the apartment. His worst fears were realized. d.i.c.k was gone, and, from the appearance of the room, he had left in a hurry, for his things were scattered around.

"They've got him!" exclaimed Jimmy in despair. "Guess I'd better tell the police."

He questioned Mr. Snowden, but the manager had not seen d.i.c.k depart with Bulldog. Nor was he inclined to think that anything had occurred.

He suggested that d.i.c.k had gone out to take a walk, but Jimmy felt that something had happened.

He went out into the street, hardly knowing what to do, but trying to make up his mind to some plan of action. He saw Sam Schmidt, and, more because he could think of no one else to appeal to than because he hoped for news, he asked:

"Seen d.i.c.k this evenin', Dutchy?"

"Sure, dot's vot I has," was the unexpected answer.

"You have? Where?"

"Him und Bulldog Smouder vent off over towards de Bowery a while ago.

Und dey vos in a hurry-up I d'inks, for dey vos valkin' fast."

"Where does Bulldog live?"

Sam gave the required information.

"Will you come with me, Dutchy?" asked Jimmy eagerly.

"Vere to?"

Jimmy rapidly explained and expressed his belief that Bulldog had enticed d.i.c.k away somewhere, though what his object could be he could hardly guess.

"Sure, I goes mit youse," declared the German newsboy. "Ve lick dot Bulldogs feller, dot's vot ve does."

"I guess we can manage him between us," said Jimmy, as he and Sam started off to rescue d.i.c.k.

CHAPTER XX

d.i.c.k IS ILL

When d.i.c.k saw that he had been fooled by Bulldog and was in the power of the bully, his first thought was one of fear. For d.i.c.k was not a very strong lad and was unused to physical violence. So, when the big lad shook his fist in his face and appeared ready to strike him d.i.c.k shrank back.

"Aw, I t'ought I'd skeer youse," remarked Bulldog in surly tones. "Now youse had better tell me a straight story."

"What do you mean?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Aw, youse know what I means. Youse has run away from home an' ye're only chuckin' a bluff about bein' a newsboy. Now I want t' know where youse lives, so's I kin take youse home an' git der reward."

"If I knew where I lived and who my folks were, I would only be too glad to tell you," answered d.i.c.k earnestly. "I would go home myself, without waiting for any one to take me."

"None of dat. Dat's too thin!" exclaimed Bulldog. "Youse has got t'

tell me or I'll punch yer head."

"I can't tell you."

"Well, den here goes fer a punch," and again the big boy raised his big fist.

"I'll call a policeman," said d.i.c.k, who knew he was no match for the bully.

"Go ahead. We lick cops down dis way. No perliceman ever comes in here when he hears a row. He knows it ain't healthy fer him, 'less he's got a patrol wagon full of cops wid him. Now, once ag'in, are youse goin' t' tell me what I want t' know?"

"I can't!" exclaimed d.i.c.k, wishing he had Jimmy there to help him. "I would, really I would, if I could, but I can't remember anything, except that I got hit on the head and then I woke up in the box with Jimmy."

"Yes, dat's de story youse tells, but I t'ink it's a fake. What I want is de real t'ing."

"I am telling you the truth."

"Well, I don't believe youse are."

"You can ask the police at headquarters. I have been there and told them my story."

"Yes; when youse catches me around police headquarters it'll be colder dan it is now."

Bulldog grasped d.i.c.k by an arm and pulled him closer to him, while his heavy fist was ready to deal a cruel blow. d.i.c.k tried to shrink away, but he was held fast. He looked about the room for some way of escape or some weapon he might use on his captor.

The apartment, as far as he could see in the dim light of a smoking oil lamp, was deserted. There was only one door, that by which they had entered, and Bulldog had locked that. Nor was there anything in the room, save a table and a few chairs.

"Oh, youse can't git away from me," said Bulldog, guessing of what d.i.c.k was thinking. "Now, den, take dat!" and he dealt d.i.c.k a hard blow in the face. Instinctively the boy raised his arm to protect his head.

"Oh, youse wants t' fight, eh?" inquired the bully, with a sneer, at the same time taking the att.i.tude in which pugilists are usually depicted. "Well, I kin give youse all of dat yer wants; see!"

Nothing was further from d.i.c.k's thought than to engage in a fight with the bully, but Bulldog interpreted matters his own way. All d.i.c.k cared about was to escape.

Once more the coward hit him, and then d.i.c.k's natural courage arose.

He would not submit tamely to being beaten, and, with a wild desire in his heart to hit back, his fist shot out.

It would be hard to say who was the more surprised, d.i.c.k or the bully, at the effect of the blow. It caught Bulldog on the cheek and forced him back slightly. But it had the effect of further enraging him, and the bully advanced to the attack with an angry look in his eyes.

Suddenly Bulldog's fist shot out, and the blow taking d.i.c.k squarely on the chest, sent him reeling and stumbling back. An instant later he fell to the floor. Then the bully sprang forward, all his meaner fighting instincts aroused, determined to cruelly punish the lad, who, he believed, was trying to deceive him.