He knew where McCormack lived, and he knew what route to take to get there. It was already after nine o’clock, and there was no time to lose. It was a splendid, moonlight August night and there were many people in the streets. On the bridge that crossed the river a dozen loiterers stood, singly and in pairs, watching the shimmer of moonlight on the passing waters. One of them spoke to Chick as he hurried by, but the boy did not stop to respond; he gave a quick word of greeting and moved rapidly on. With every step that he took he grew more and more impressed with the importance of his errand, and with the necessity of haste in delivering it. He felt that the sooner he could reach McCormack the greater would be the possibility of averting the threatened disaster.
In front of the Fairweather Club a man stood in evening clothes, anxiously scanning the faces of those who passed by. When he saw Chick coming a look of relief spread over his countenance.
“Chick!” he called, “you’re just the man I’m looking for. I want you to take a letter to Mayor Toplady for me. It’s got to be delivered before ten o’clock.”
Chick paused long enough to reply.
“Can’t do it,” he said. “Ain’t got time.”
“There’s a dollar in it for you. You can take the next car that comes along. You’ll get there in twenty minutes.”
Chick opened his eyes wide. There were not many days in the year in which he earned a whole dollar. But to-night the offer did not tempt him.
“I’d like to ’commodate you,” he said; “but it’s jest as I told you; I ain’t got time. I’m in too much of a hurry.”
“I’ll give you two dollars, Chick. It isn’t every man that comes along that I can trust. And this is important.”
But the boy was still obdurate.