Greed was then one of my many besetting sins, and without losing any time I called at the address given to me. It was a rather pretentious dwelling in one of New York's thoroughfares of ease and good living, and I could not help speculating on the moral make-up of a man who could leave this abode of comfort and home cheer behind to spend his leisure hours in a "good time" at a Bowery dive. Even though I could not read or write at that time, and was not sensible to the world's finer motives, such an act on the part of a man who had all that life could give, seemed to be beyond the ken of human intelligence and my humble understanding.
The reception accorded to me was none too cordial. He seemed to regard me as a blackmailer, and, alas! he was very nearly correct in his estimate. After entreating me not to breathe a word to any living soul about his nightly adventure, he invited me to follow him to the stable in the rear of the house, where I was to receive the reward for my righteous conduct.
My hopes fell at this.
Stables are the lodging places of horses, and I began to wonder if he could imagine the consequences were I to attempt to lead a gift horse through the streets down to the Bowery. The police, if in nothing else, are very careful in looking after strayed horses and delight in finding, by accident, a pretended owner at the other end of the halter rope.
I mentioned all this to him, but he only laughed and bade me wait. He took me to a stall, and there pointed with pride at a litter of pure-bred bull pups who were taking a nap at the breast of their mother. He stooped and, one by one, lifted them up by the scruff of their necks for my inspection.
I felt disappointed, saw my dream of reward evaporate, and could not screw up any interest in the canine exhibition.
My aversion for all dogs dated from my years as newsboy in Park Row. One homeless little cur, a mongrel looking for a bit of sympathy in his miserable existence, once made friendly overtures to me. I was still a brute—bestial, cruel—and sent the poor thing yelping with a kick. As soon as he had regained his footing he waited for his chance and then bit me in the leg.
Therefore I hated dogs, and reveled in the execution of my hatred.
I watched the pups with ill-concealed disgust. The little fat fellows hung limp and listless until dropped back into their nest. Just as I was priming myself to propose a compromise on a cash basis, a little rogue, different from his brothers, was elevated for examination. Instead of hanging quietly like the rest of the younger generation of the family, he twisted and wriggled, while his eyes, one of them becomingly framed in black, shone with play, appeal and good nature.
The shadow of a smile must have been on my lips, for the owner placed the pup in my arms and presented me with it.