He was certain of it a moment later when the farmer said:
“Seems yeou’re the second one thet’s stopped me sence I landed from the ferryboat. The other chap thought he knowed me, too; but when he found out my name was Silas Hockins and thet I lived in Avalanch, New Jersey, why, he ’pologized and went off. He thought I was Josh Whitcomb, from Newark. Haw, haw, haw!”
“You mustn’t mind that, Hockins,” said the man, with a crafty smile. “We New Yorkers are mighty glad to meet our friends from the country, and we always do the right thing by ’em.”
“Waal, naow, yeou don’t say!”
“Say,” put in Jack at this point, “I’m waiting for you. You want to find Nassau Street, don’t you?”
“Never mind, young man; you can run along. I’ll take charge of Mr. Hockins and show him all that’s to be seen.”
The New Jerseyman seemed undecided what to do, seeing which, Jack decided to block the sharper’s game.
“Look here,” he said, in a low voice; “I’m dead on to you. There’s a cop across the street. If you don’t take a glide, I’ll run over and give him the tip-off.”
The sharper saw that his game was up.
“I sha’n’t forget you, young man, if I ever come across you again,” he said, angrily, as he turned and walked away without another word to the countryman.