"What's de matter of de kid yonder, in de winder?" asked the foreigner.
"Dyin'," said the carrier shortly.
"Looks she had—what you call him?—gallopin' consum'tion," observed the man with the eyebrows.
"Gallopin' heartbreak," replied the carrier, pushing by. "There's a devil layin' round loose outside of hell that stole her dog,—and she a little sickly thing to start with, —— him! There's fifty men in this town would lynch him inside of ten minutes, if they got a clue to him, —— him to ——!"
That afternoon, when the professor left the house, the newsboy ran up eagerly. "There's a little nigger wants yez, perfesser, downstreet. He's in wid the dog robbers, that nigger is. Jes' you arsk him when he see Mop las' time. Take him by the scruff the neck, an' wallop like hell till he tells. Be spry, now, perfesser!"
The professor hurried down the street, fully prepared to obey these directions, and found the negro boy, as he had been told.
"Come along furder," said the boy, looking around uneasily. He spoke a few words in a hoarse whisper.
The blood leaped to the professor's wan cheeks, and back again.
"I'll show ye for a V," suggested the boy cunningly. "But I won't take no noter hand. Make it cash, an' I'll show yer. Ye ain't no time to be foolin'," added the gamin. "It's sot for termorrer 'leven o'clock. He's down for the biggest show of the term, he is. The students is all gwineter go, an' the doctors along of 'em."