"This is the man, and that's the tarnal striped dog I told you of. See here" (to the rag-man); "this man wants to see you."
The rag-man looked at me with wonder and some expression of fear. "Let him see me, then, if he wants to," he muttered; "no great sight, I guess."
"Yes, I wished to see you a minute," said I; "and I wanted to talk with you. I won't hinder you long, and will give you twenty-five cents an hour for the time I hinder you. Here, take that to begin with," slipping a new twenty-five cent piece of silver into his hand. The rag-man's eyes glistened, and he looked up with an air of mingled surprise and gratitude.
"Your route" (for all these fellows have routes of their own, which they observe with as much honor among themselves as bakers and milkmen, never trespassing on each other),—"your route lies, when you go up, along such and such streets?"—naming some.
"Yes, sir."
"Well, did you ever see this man before?" pointing to the coachman.
He eyed him carefully, and replied, "'Pears to me I have; but I dunno."
"Well, did you ever see this bag?" I asked, taking it from my pocket, and handing it to him.
He looked at it but an instant, and said, "Yes; and I guess that's the man that give me six cents for it; yes, that is the man."
"Well, my good fellow," said I, "I want to find out where you bought it. That's what I hunted you up to inquire about. I want to find the man that sold it to you."