“I see what you are,” said the bootblack, boldly carrying the war into the enemy’s camp; “you’re one of them swindlin’ fellers that go round cheatin’ the poor out of their hard earnings. I’ll call a cop.”
“What’s a cop?” asked Joshua, uneasily.
“A peeler.”
“What’s a peeler?”
“A purlice officer. Where was you brought up?” demanded the boy, contemptuously. “If I knowed where Sam Crawford lived, wouldn’t I tell you?”
“Are you sure you ain’t the boy that showed me the way?”
“In course I am.”
“You just look like him,” said Joshua, doubtfully.
“I know who it was,” said the bootblack, who had no scruples about lying. “It was Pat Brady. He and me look like twin brothers. He’s a bad boy, Pat is--he’ll lie as fast as he can talk.”
Joshua was at last convinced that he had made a mistake. He was completely taken in by the young rascal, who proceeded to follow up his deception.