“That is the man!” he muttered to himself.
With two or three trusty companions, he resolved upon a plan of action which he proceeded to carry out.
The next day Ben called upon the Jew in his shop. He represented himself to be an employee of the Emigrant Department. He said that a great many chances came to him of making money, but he wanted a confederate. Would the Jew like to have him (Hogan) bring emigrants to the shop with plenty of money in their pockets? It wouldn’t be of much consequence how they got out of the shop!
“Dat vas a fine idea—a very fine idea!” answered the old vulture, rubbing his bony hands together. “You brings ’em in, and I’ll take care of how they goes out. And together ve’ll take care of all their gold!”
That night Ben called again at the shop and told the Jew that a very green young emigrant was waiting to take a walk along the docks.
“He’s got piles of money on him!” added Hogan.
The old Jew accordingly set forth with the green young emigrant. As a matter of fact, this verdant youth was one of Hogan’s companions; and the “piles of money” which Ben had described consisted of lumps of lead put into a bag, after the emigrant fashion.
Fate is a curious thing in this world. That old Hebrew, for instance, started forth from his shop on the night in question, intent upon robbing the green young emigrant and throwing his body into the river. But he didn’t carry out his plans. Perhaps he retired from his South street den. Perhaps he concluded to take a tour to Jerusalem; or perhaps he went to Canada; or perhaps his foot tripped, and he fell into the East river. Whatever his fate, he didn’t rob any more emigrants of their hard-earned savings.
Relieved of his gold, the senior Hogan, with his family, removed to Syracuse, N. Y., which city he made his permanent home. The family was not by any means rich in this world’s goods, and it became necessary for Ben to do something toward his own support. His first venture at money-making was in the line of a peddler. His father bought him an outfit—the horse could not trot under thirty, but he did very well to draw a peddler’s cart—costing, in all, twenty-five dollars. The young peddler’s first day was not altogether successful. He made a number of sales and exchanges, but when he came to balance his accounts he found that he was four dollars out of pocket. The next day, however, he did better, and at the end of six months he had cleared seventy-five dollars.
It may be well to remark here, that, from his earliest boyhood, Ben Hogan has possessed the faculty of making money. He never saved any, because he is too open handed to take any thought of the morrow. But, if he has not saved, he has rarely wanted. His ingenuity and quick wit have invariably “made a raise,” and prevented him from remaining “broke” any length of time.