“We’ll see about that later,” cried our hero, hotly, and catching the rascal by the collar the youth yanked him to a standing position. “Now come on, and no nonsense.”
Seeing that the youth was not to be fooled with, Wakefield Smith tried to dicker again, getting himself badly twisted in his plea that he would make everything all right. Jerry would not trust him and forced him to walk along until the nearest corner was reached. Here he suddenly made a clutch at an electric-light pole and held fast.
“Help! help! help!” he cried out at the top of his lungs. “Police!”
The young oarsman did not know what to make of this appeal for assistance, for it seemed to him that the authorities were the very people Mr. Wakefield Smith wished to avoid. He was destined, however to soon learn a trick that was brand new to him.
The pickpocket had hardly uttered his cry when a bluecoat put into appearance and came running to the spot.
“What’s the trouble here?” he demanded.
“Shay, officer, make that young fellow go away,” hiccoughed Mr. Wakefield Smith.
“What is he up to?”
“Trying to rob me, officer; reg’lar slick Aleck.”
At this cool assertion Jerry was dumbfounded.