His knowledge of values quieted this fear somewhat. The junk he had bought was worth more than he had paid for it, he knew, and the yard was worth more than one hundred dollars per year. Suddenly the awful thought came to him that, although he had paid Saint Harvey cash money, he had nothing to show for it. He had no “paper,” no receipt, no lease, nothing! Not even a witness! The cold perspiration oozed from his every pore. He had been cheated!
Moses Shuder, lying beside his soundly sleeping—and snoring—wife, squirmed with shame at the thought that he had been such a fool. He pulled at his beard angrily. So be it! He would find this Harvey Redding and make him give a paper. In the morning—
He suddenly sat bolt upright.
“Rosa, hush!” he whispered, putting his palm under her chin and closing her mouth.
“What is it, Moses? Fire? Thieves?”
“Hush! Thieves,” he whispered. He slid out of bed and drew on his trousers. From the lean-to where he kept his most precious junk—his copper and his lead—came the subdued clink of metal. Stealthily Shuder glided to his back door. He glided to the door of the lean-to.
“Thief! I got you!” he cried, and pounced upon Lem.
“You leave me alone! You let go of me!” the boy cried. But Shuder had him fast, and scolding in Yiddish he dragged the boy from the lean-to and into the shack.
Rosa lit the oil lamp.
“Sure!” panted Shuder. “Young Redink! Stealing chunk! Sure!”