HAL ON THE WATCH.
"Let up there, you brute!"
Dick Ferris looked around with a startled air.
When he caught sight of Hal his face fell, and he released the girl.
"What, you!" he exclaimed.
"Exactly. What do you mean by treating this girl so rudely?"
"You are following me," went on Ferris, ignoring the question which had been put to him.
"What if I am?"
"You think you're smart, don't you?" sneered Ferris.
"He's a mean, ugly thing!" put in the girl, between her sobs. "I wish he was arrested."
"Shut up!" roared Ferris, turning to her. "You ran into me on purpose."
"I didn't. We've got a right to coast in this alley; mamma said so."
"You ought to be arrested for striking the little girl," said Hal. "I am awfully glad I arrived in the nick of time to save her from more punishment."
"Good fer you, mister!" cried a small youth standing near. "Give him one in der eye!"
"Yes, do him up, mister," cried several others.
Ferris turned upon them like a savage animal.
"Get out of here, every one of you," he howled, "unless you want to be hammered to death."
"Don't you move," said Hal. "You evidently have more right here than he has."
"Indeed!" said Ferris, turning to Hal. "I wish you would keep your nose out of my affairs."
"Don't let him sass you, mister," put in one of the urchins. "He didn't have no cause ter hit Katie."
Ferris pounced upon the boy at once, and cuffed him right and left. In the midst of the castication, however, Hal caught the bully by the arm, and a second later Dick Ferris measured his length in the gutter.
A shout went up from the boys and girls.
"Dat's der way ter do it!"
"Ain't der gent got muckle, dough?"
Then somebody threw a snow-ball, and in a trice the entire crowd were snow-balling Ferris as furiously as they could.
Hal looked on, and he was compelled to laugh. Then a sudden idea struck him. Like a flash he darted out of sight behind the pile of empty boxes and barrels.
Muttering something under his breath, Dick Ferris struggled to his feet. As soon as he did this the street children took to their legs, dragging their sleds after them. Ferris made after one or two of them, but was unable to effect a capture.
"Run off wid yerself!"
"We ain't got no use fer bullies!"
Spat!
A snow-ball took Ferris right in the ear, and caused him to utter a sharp cry of pain.
Then another took him in the face, and in trying to dodge he slipped and went into a snow-drift.
He was quickly on his feet, and this time ran after the crowd so fast that he caught one of the boys.
"Lemme go!" howled the youngster.
"Not much, you rat! Take that!"
Ferris struck the boy in the mouth, and the little fellow let out a yell.
Hal was just about to dart to his assistance when a policeman came along and touched Ferris on the shoulder.
"What's the trouble here?" he demanded.
Ferris turned savagely, but his manner changed when he beheld the officer of the law.
"This chap is a rascal," he explained.
"In what way?"
"He fired a snow-ball at me and hit me in the ear."
"I didn't," howled the urchin. "It was anudder fellow wot fired dat snow-ball."
And he began to cry bitterly.
"It was only done in fun, I suppose," said the officer.
"Fun!" fumed Ferris. "Look at my clothes!"
The officer did so. Ferris was covered with snow and dirt, principally the latter.
"The snow-ball couldn't have done that," said the policeman.
He was in sympathy with the small boy, whom he knew as the son of one of his friends.
"I know. But this boy and a lot of his chums got to throwing at me, and in trying to dodge I went down."
The policeman paused for a moment, and then turned to the urchin.
"See here, bubby, if I let you go will you promise not to throw any more snow-balls?"
"Yes, sir," came in one breath, and very eagerly.
"Then run."
"What! ain't you going to arrest him?" cried Dick Ferris, in some excitement.
"I think not."
"But he ought to be."
"I fancy I know my own business best," was the short reply.
"But he is a little imp, and——"
"Better let it go. I dare say you throw snow-balls yourself once in a while."
And with this remark the policeman moved on.
"Well, that's a fine way to treat a fellow," muttered Ferris to himself. "I suppose that policeman would let the whole ward pounce on me without doing anything toward helping me. I wonder where that Hal Carson is?"
The tall youth brushed off his clothing hastily, and returned to the entrance to the alley. He looked around carefully, but Hal kept well hidden.
Dick Ferris was undecided what to do. Should he deliver the letter intrusted to him by Hardwick? He hesitated and then continued up the alley-way, upon which a number of dirty, dingy tenement houses were situated.
Arriving at the very last of these, he ascended the front stoop and knocked loudly upon the door. There was no reply, and while he was waiting for some one to answer his summons, Hal managed to skulk up behind the other buildings and approach within hearing distance.
At last Ferris got tired of waiting, and he tried the door. It was unlocked, and, pushing it open, the tall boy entered.
Hal waited for a moment, and then, mounting the stoop, peered in at the door, which Ferris had left partly open.
As the youth had surmised, the hall-way was quite dark. He heard Ferris mounting the rickety stairs, and like a shadow he followed, fairly holding his breath, lest some sound might betray his presence.
Ferris mounted almost to the top of the tenement, and then hammered on a door in the rear.
"Come!" cried a voice from inside, and Ferris entered.
No sooner was the door closed than Hal approached it and applied his eye to the key-hole. He saw a small apartment, scantily furnished with a small cook-stove, a table, three chairs, and some kitchen utensils.
A man sat before the stove, smoking a short briar pipe. He was unshaved, but his face bore evidence of former gentility and manhood, in spite of the fact that it was now dissipated.
"Hullo, Ferris!" he exclaimed.
"How are you, Macklin?" returned the tall boy.
"Not very well, I can tell you," returned Macklin, removing his pipe and spitting into the stove. "I've got rheumatism, yer know."
"Rheumatism!" laughed Ferris. "More likely it's rumatism, Tommy."
"Don't give me any o' yer jokes, Ferris. Wot brings yer?"
"I've got a letter for you."
"From Hardwick?"
Ferris nodded.
"I thought I would hear from him before long. Hand it over."
Ferris did so. Macklin tore open the epistle and began to peruse it hastily. As he did so Ferris tried to glance over his shoulder.
"Here! none o' dat!" cried Macklin, savagely. "Wot's my business is my business."
He finished reading the letter and put it in his coat pocket. Then he pulled away on his pipe for a moment.
"Well?" said Ferris, by way of inquiry.
"Tell him it's all right if he doubles the figger."
"Makes the amount twice as large?"
"Dat's it. It's a ticklish piece o' business."
"What is the work, Macklin?" questioned Ferris, sitting down on the opposite side of the stove.
The man closed one eye.
"Hardwick knows," he replied, shortly.
"I know that," replied Ferris. "And I know something about this new deal, too."
"Wot do yer know?"
"Never mind. I know."
"Dat's all put on, Ferris; yer don't know a t'ing, see?" cried Macklin, with a laugh that sounded more like a croak.
Dick Ferris colored slightly.
"Hardwick said there was something new on," he explained, lamely.
"Yes, but he didn't tell yer wot it was."
Ferris arose, thinking that further attempts at pumping would be useless.
"Say, don't be in no hurry," went on Macklin. "Sit down an' git warmed up."
"I ain't cold."
Ferris started for the door, but the man pulled him back.
"How did yer make out wid Hardwick on dat last deal?" he asked.
"All right," responded the tall boy, hurriedly.
"Wot do you call all right?"
"That's my affair, Tommy."
"Don't git on yer high horse, Ferris."
"I can keep as mum as you can, Tommy, and don't you forget it."
"Did he give you more dan a hundred?"
"Is that what you got out of it?"
"Naw! I didn't git half o' dat."
"Hardwick is a close one."
"Dat's so. But some day he'll have ter pony up, yer see if he don't."
"I suppose it will be you who will squeeze him," said Ferris, with another laugh.
"You bet."
"He ought to be squeezed a little," said Ferris, reflectively. "He makes a small fortune alongside of what we get out of it."
"Yes, but der trouble is, yer can't corner him," responded Macklin. "If yer try, yer git yerself in trouble. But before long——" he did not finish in words, but bobbed his head vigorously.
"Where's your wife?" asked Ferris, glancing around.
"Der old woman's gone to der market."
"Ain't any one else here, is there?"
Ferris glanced around suspiciously. "No."
"Then supposing we come to an understanding?" went on Ferris, in a low tone. "We both do work for Hardwick, and we ought to get more money for it."
"Well?"
"Unless we get together we can't do anything. But when he finds we are both of a mind he may listen to us, and both of us will make by it."
Hal listened to every word of this conversation with deep interest. From it he discovered that Macklin was a tool of Hardwick as well as Ferris and both were in the habit of doing underhand work for the ex-book-keeper.
"If either of them would only mention something definite," he thought. "The tin box robbery for instance. Then I would be certain I was on the right track."
"That's an idea, Ferris," replied Macklin. "It ain't fair fer Hardwick ter be rollin' in money an' me livin' here."
"That's it."
"I uster be jest as fine a liver as him, Ferris, in the flush days. An' when old Sumner took Hardwick in an' bounced me——"
Macklin did not finish. There was a racket in the hall-way, and then came the tones of an excited Irishwoman.
"Phot's this? Phot be yez doin' here, young mon, sn'akin' along like a thafe? Tommy Macklin, cum here!"