Dick lost no time in making his escape, fearing the officer might change his mind. He found Jimmy and related what had occurred.
"Crimps! Say, you has luck!" exclaimed Dick's partner. "Alderman Casey is one of the big-bugs! What, didn't you know him when he was speakin' to youse—I mean you?"
"No."
"Well, of course it takes time to know all the main gazabos of this town," spoke Jimmy, with an air of lofty wisdom. "But I'm sorry you don't feel well. Come an' have a soda."
"No, I don't think I care for any. I don't believe it would be good for me. But you go get one."
"All right, I will. Then you won't come swimmin' to-night, Dick?"
"No, I've had enough of it for one day. I guess I'll be better in the morning."
Dick did not feel very well that night when he went to bed. The excitement had a bad effect on his nerves, and when he awoke in the morning, he had quite a fever. His face was flushed and his breathing rapid. He tried to get up to go out with his papers, but found himself too dizzy to stand.
"I—I guess I'm sick, Jimmy," he said. "But I'll be all right in a little while. You go ahead out, so as not to lose the morning trade."
"What? And leave you here all alone, and sick? I guess not much! Wait, I'll call Mr. Snowden. He knows somethin' about medicine."