“Well done, Bill,” declared Sawyer. “Now, I will pull the old sheep’s wool in a trice, after which we must run down the precocious youngsters who have cheated us of a goodly share of our goods.”
The process of “pulling the old sheep’s wool” was evidently the stealing of the unconscious man’s pocketbook, for the speaker began to rifle him of whatever he carried of value. But he was interrupted in a most unexpected manner.
At the very moment his fingers closed on the well-filled wallet, an agile figure bounded out of the shadows of the alley, striking the stooping form of the robber with such force as to send him headlong into the gutter, the newcomer crying at the same time:
“The cop! The cop!”
This so startled the second ruffian that he turned and fled, while robber No. 1 scrambled to his feet just in season to see the boy who had given him such a blow seize the plethoric pocketbook and disappear around a corner.
“Stop thief!” cried the would-be robber. “Bill, where are you? Stop the youngster!”
The twain then gave furious pursuit.
While this chase was taking place, a passer-by was attracted by the prostrate figure of Deacon Cornhill, and thinking murder had been committed, he was about to give an alarm, when a voice at his elbow said:
“Don’t stir a noise, Jim.”
Looking abruptly around, the man was surprised to find the young bootblack beside him whom Deacon Cornhill had met at the outset of his troubles, and who was none other than the boy who had snatched his pocketbook away from the thief. He had found little difficulty in eluding his pursuers.