The boy, to whom Noddy had given the bag, ran over the street, and placed himself behind Mr. Grant, whom he judged to be the owner of the baggage.
"Where is the other boy?" demanded Mr. Grant.
"Gone down State Street to find ten cents he lost there," replied the wicked boy. "I'll carry your bag, sir."
"But I want the boy! Which way did he go?" said Mr. Grant, in hurried tones.
"Down there, sir. His mother'll lick him if he don't find the ten cents he lost. I'll carry the bag."
But Mr. Grant was unwilling to trust his property to the hands of such a boy, and he immediately reclaimed it.
"I want that boy!" exclaimed Mr. Grant, in great agitation. "Which way did he go?"
"Down there," replied the ragged boy, pointing down a street in exactly the opposite direction from that taken by the fugitive.
But Mr. Grant was too wise a man to follow. He was in search of a policeman just then. As these worthy functionaries are never at hand when they are wanted, of course he did not find one. He called a carriage, and ordered the driver to convey him with all speed, and at double fare, to the police office. On his arrival, he immediately stated his business, and in a few hours the whole police force of the city were on the lookout for poor Noddy Newman.
The object of all this friendly solicitude was unconscious of the decided steps taken by Mr. Grant; but he ran till he had placed a safe distance between himself and his potent oppressor. He saw plenty of policemen in his flight, but he paid no attention to them, nor even thought what a powerful combination they formed against a weak boy like himself. He was satisfied, however, that he must leave the city; and when he was out of breath with running, he walked as nearly on a straight course as the streets would permit, till he reached the outskirts of the city.