"Well, I don't know what it was, but youse has got t' git outer here. Dis is me stampin' ground, an' I want youse t' git."
"Suppose I don't?" asked Dick, who was not afraid, even if Bulldog was the larger.
"Well, you'll see. Who are youse, anyhow? Comin' t' N'York an' buttin' in here where youse ain't wanted. Why don't youse go back home?"
"I would if I knew where my home was," spoke Dick quietly, for he made no secret of his queer plight.
"Say, kid, honest, don't youse remember anyt'ing about yerself?" asked Bulldog with a sudden assumption of friendliness, for he happened to remember the conversation he and Mike Conroy had had concerning Dick, and he thought this a good chance to further the plot which the two had made.
"I can remember very little about what happened before I met Jimmy Small."
"Don't youse know what kind of a place youse lived in?"
"I haven't the least idea."
"An' can't youse remember yer own name?"
"Only the first part of it."