Having got the bag into my possession, I asked him if he ever saw the man before of whom he bought the bag.
"'Twasn't a man, but a boy, that goes by here, every few days, with a cart."
"Would you know him anywhere you might see him?"
"Yes, he's got a curious look about him that everybody would remember."
"You've seen him often?"
"Yes. I have seen him go by here ever so many times within a year."
"Well, I want to find him; and can I hire you to go with me to-day and pick him out? I'll take you among the rag-pickers, and I will pay you well."
"He! he! hee! That's funny that you want to find that nasty-looking chap. Yes, I'll go with you now,—in ten minutes, if 'tain't too fur."
"We can go in an hour; but perhaps 'twon't be the best time to find him. He may be out, and we shall not know whom to inquire for; and if we get on track of anybody that we think is he, may be you'll have to go again to-morrow. They'll tell us when he'll be apt to be found at home."
"I'd know him by his dog, say nothing of himself," interposed the coachman. "Yes, I'll go;" and the coachman got ready, and we started off for Sixty-second Street, where there were then a number of low houses, occupied by rag-pickers. I thought I would go up instead of down in the city, as the coachman said the loaded cart of the rag-man was headed that way. We took a Fourth Avenue car, and had not gone more than half way to our point of destination, when the coachman, who was standing on the platform, having given his seat to a lady, violently pulled the bell, and called to me: "See here, mister" (for I had given him no name as yet), "here's the very fellow we're after;" and I got out with him, and he ran to catch the rag-man, whom we had just past, and I came up as he had stopped him.