The gentleman deigned no response, but walked across the street in a dignified manner. Here he was accosted by a boot-black, who proposed to shine his boots.

"He'll get 'em done at the wholesale price, see if he don't," thought Ben. He kept an eye on the boot-black and his patron until the job was finished. Then he witnessed what appeared to be an angry dispute between the two parties. It terminated by the gentleman lifting his cane in a menacing manner. Ben afterwards gained from the boy particulars of the transaction, which may be given here in the third person.

"Shine yer boots?" asked the boot-black, as the gentleman reached his side of the street, just after his unsuccessful negotiations with Ben.

"What do you charge?" he inquired.

"Ten cents."

"That's too much."

"It's the reg'lar price."

"I can get my boots blacked for five cents anywhere. If you'll do it for that, you can go to work."

The boy hesitated. It was half price, but he had not yet obtained a job, and he yielded. When the task was finished, his generous patron drew four cents from his pocket.

"I haven't got but four cents," he observed. "I guess that'll do."

The boy was indignant, as was natural. To work for half price, and then lose one-fifth of his reduced pay, was aggravating. What made it worse was, that his customer was carefully dressed, and bore every appearance of being a man of substance.

"I want another cent," he demanded.

"You're well enough paid," said the other, drawing on a kid glove. "Four cents I consider very handsome pay for ten minutes' work. Many men do not make as much."

This reasoning did not strike the little boot-black as sound. He was no logician; but he felt that he had been defrauded, and that in a very mean manner.

"Give me my money," he screamed, angrily.

"I'll hand you over to the authorities," said the gentleman,--though I hardly feel justified in calling him such,--lifting his cane menacingly.

What could the boy do? Might was evidently on the side of the man who had cheated him. But he was quick-witted, and a characteristic mode of revenge suggested itself. The street was muddy (New York streets are occasionally in that condition). The boot-black stooped down and clutched a handful of mire in his hand, fortunately having no kid gloves to soil, and, before his late customer fathomed his intention, plentifully besprinkled one of the boots which he had just carefully polished.

"That's worth a cent," he remarked, with satisfaction, escaping from the wrath of the injured party.

His victim, almost speechless with rage, seemed disposed to pursue him; but the boy, regardless of the mire, had run across the street, and to follow would only be to make matters worse.

"If I ever catch you, I'll break every bone in your body, you little vagabond," he said, in a voice almost choked by pa.s.sion, shaking his cane energetically.

Ben, who had witnessed the whole, burst into a hearty laugh, which drew upon his head a portion of wrath. After a pause, the victim of his own meanness turned up a side street. The reader will be glad to learn that he had to employ a second boot black; so that he was not so much better off for his economical management after all. It may be added that he was actuated in all his dealings by the same frugality, if we may dignify it by that name. He was a large dealer in ready-made under-clothing, for the making of which he paid starvation prices; but, unfortunately, the poor sewing-girls, whom he employed for a pittance, were not so well able to defend themselves against imposition as the smart little boot-black, who "knew his rights, and knowing, dared maintain."

CHAPTER XXII.

THE HEAVY VALISE.

Ben had sold half his papers when the arrival of the train from Philadelphia gave him an opportunity to return to his legitimate calling.

"Smash your baggage, sir?" asked Ben of a dark-complexioned man of thirty-five, who carried a moderate-sized valise.

"Yes," said the other.

"Where shall I carry it?"

"To----" Here the man hesitated, and finally answered, "There is no need of telling you. I will take it from you when we have got along far enough."

Ben was about to walk beside the owner of the valise; but the latter objected to this.

"You needn't walk beside me," he said. "Keep about a block ahead."

"But how will I know where to go?" asked Ben, naturally.

"You know where Broome Street runs into the Bowery?"

"Of course I do."

"Go there by the shortest route. Don't trouble yourself about me. I'll follow along behind, and take the valise from you there. If you get there before I do, wait for me."

"I suppose I'm too ragged to walk alongside of him," thought Ben.

He could think of no other reason for the direction given by the other.

However, Ben's pride was not very much hurt. Although he was ragged now, he did not mean to be long. The time would come, he was confident, when he could lay aside his rags, and appear in a respectable dress.

The valise which he carried proved to be considerably heavier than would have been imagined from its size.

"I wonder what's in it," thought Ben, who found it tugging away at his arms. "If it's shirts they're cast-iron. Maybe they're just comin' in fashion."

However, he did not perplex himself much about this point. Beyond a momentary curiosity, he felt no particular interest in the contents of the valise. The way in which it affected him princ.i.p.ally was, to make him inwardly resolve to ask an extra price, on account of the extra weight.

After walking a while he looked back for the owner of the valise. But he was not in sight.

"I might carry off his baggage," thought Ben, "without his knowin' it."

He kept on, however, never doubting that the owner would sooner or later overtake him. If he did not care enough for the valise to do this, Ben would not be responsible.

He had just shifted the heavy burden from one hand to the other, when he felt himself tapped on the shoulder. Looking round, he saw that the one who had done this was a quiet-looking man, of middle size, but with a keen, sharp eye.

"What's wanted?" asked Ben.

"Where did you get that valise, my lad?" asked the new-comer.

"I don't know as that's any of your business," answered Ben, who didn't perceive the other's right to ask the question.

"Is it yours?"

"Maybe it is."