CHAPTER XIII.
SILAS HOCKINS, FROM AVALANCH, N. J.
A few days after that, as Jack was coming out of the Post Office, he was stopped by a sun-burned, countrified-looking man, who said:
“Waal, sonny, kin yeou tell me where Nassau Street is?”
“Sure; come right along with me and I’ll steer you into it,” replied the boy, good-naturedly.
But before the countryman could take a step, a dark-featured man, dressed in a checked suit, with a Brazilian sunstone in a gaudy scarf, and a strong odor of the Tenderloin about him, stepped up and, grasping the farmer by the hand, exclaimed:
“Why, how do you do, Silas Hockins? When did you come to town?”
“Waal, naow, yeou seem tew know me, mister, but I’m gosh-darned ef I kin place yeou fur a cent,” answered Farmer Hockins, in a puzzled way.
“Why, I was down in your neighborhood all last summer. Avalanch, New Jersey, is where you live, isn’t it?”
“Waal, naow, I expect yeou’re right there, mister; but I don’t recollect yeou, just the same.”
“My name is Bond—Steve Bond.”
Silas Hockins shook his head, while Jack Hazard, who stood a few feet away, sized the other stranger up for a confidence man.
He was certain of it a moment later when the farmer said:
“Seems yeou’re the second one thet’s stopped me sence I landed from the ferryboat. The other chap thought he knowed me, too; but when he found out my name was Silas Hockins and thet I lived in Avalanch, New Jersey, why, he ’pologized and went off. He thought I was Josh Whitcomb, from Newark. Haw, haw, haw!”
“You mustn’t mind that, Hockins,” said the man, with a crafty smile. “We New Yorkers are mighty glad to meet our friends from the country, and we always do the right thing by ’em.”
“Waal, naow, yeou don’t say!”
“Say,” put in Jack at this point, “I’m waiting for you. You want to find Nassau Street, don’t you?”
“Never mind, young man; you can run along. I’ll take charge of Mr. Hockins and show him all that’s to be seen.”
The New Jerseyman seemed undecided what to do, seeing which, Jack decided to block the sharper’s game.
“Look here,” he said, in a low voice; “I’m dead on to you. There’s a cop across the street. If you don’t take a glide, I’ll run over and give him the tip-off.”
The sharper saw that his game was up.
“I sha’n’t forget you, young man, if I ever come across you again,” he said, angrily, as he turned and walked away without another word to the countryman.
“I reckon he don’t know me arter all,” remarked Mr. Hockins, taking a fresh hold on his carpetbag as the man from the Tenderloin faded around the corner of the Post Office. “Still, he seemed to hev my name and whar I cum from right pat.”
“He didn’t know you at all. That fellow was a confidence man.” And as Silas Hockins followed across the street into Ann Street, the boy explained the old threadbare game to him.
“Waal, naow, yeou’re right smart, I reckon, to see through thet chap at once. I s’pose yeou drink, don’t yeou? A glass of cider would kinder hit me in the right place,” and Hockins paused in front of a saloon.
“I’ll wait for you, if you don’t linger too long,” answered Jack.
“Ain’t yeou comin’ in?”
The boy shook his head.
“Waal, I won’t be more’n a minit.”
Jack glanced over a cheap lot of books on a vendor’s cart drawn up alongside the narrow walk until Silas Hockins reappeared.
“This is Nassau Street,” said Jack, after they had walked a short block. “Where did you want to go?”
“Waal, I’ll tell yeou. I want tew get tew Wall Street, and Dominie Hudson, of our town, told me ef I found Nassau Street I could walk right into it.”
“He told you right. Come along; I’ll take you there.”
“Be yeou goin’ thet way, then?”
“Sure; that’s where I work.”
“Sho! Yeou don’t say! Maybe yeou kin tell me where I kin find some of them thar bulls and bears what folks talk about.”
“You want to visit the Stock Exchange. I’ll get you an admission ticket from my boss.”
“Will yeou? That’s kind of yeou.”
“Where do you expect to stop while you’re in town?” asked Jack, thinking he might direct Mr. Hockins to a cheap but respectable hotel.
“Waal, I’ll tell yeou. I’m goin’ over to Brooklyn to try and hunt up a niece of mine I hain’t seen sense she was married, nigh on to twenty year ago. Her name was Sarah Dusenbury, but she married a Price. She’s got a grown-up darter thet works one of them highfalutin writin’ machines like this,” and Mr. Hockins dropped his bag and proceeded to give a comical illustration of how one clicks the keys of a typewriter.
“Her name isn’t Millie Price, is it?” exclaimed Jack, with some interest.
“Why, haow did yeou guess thet? Thet’s the gal’s name, sure.”
“Would you know her if you saw her?”
“Waal, no, seein’ ez I hain’t never seen her in my life. She’s a good gal, I’ve heerd, and I’ve concluded to do somethin’ fer her and her mother. I’ve saved a leetle somethin’ sence I took ter farmin’, an’ ez I hain’t got no one but my niece to leave it to, I’ve come on tew hunt her up.”
“You’d better come to the office with me. Our stenographer is named Millie Price, and perhaps she’s your relative.”
“Waal, it won’t dew no harm tew see the gal. She kin tell ef her ma’s name is Sarah Dusenbury Price and ef she wuz born daown East in the same taown I hailed from, and sich like.”
So Jack piloted Silas Hockins into Atherton’s office.
Then he rushed up to Millie.
“Was your mother’s name Sarah Dusenbury before she married Mr. Price?”
“Yes,” replied the girl, opening her eyes very wide indeed. “How did you come to find that out, Jack?”
“I met a relative of yours, Silas Hockins, and brought him here. He’s in the reception-room. He wants to find where you live. Hadn’t you better see him?”
“I’ve often heard mother speak of her uncle Silas, but I’ve never seen him nor has he ever seen me.”
“Well, Millie, I think he’s a good thing to freeze to, as he told me he has money and calculates on doing the right thing by you and your mother. If I were you, I’d steer him right over to your home. Mr. Bishop will let you off, I guess. Go out and see him now. And don’t ever say I didn’t do you a good turn.”
Millie had no trouble in identifying herself to Mr. Hockins’ satisfaction.
She got leave of absence for the rest of the afternoon, and took Silas home with her.
As Jack had figured, Mr. Hockins’ arrival proved a good thing in the end for both Mrs. Price and her daughter Millie.