Reddy's career of crime seemed to have embraced a long category of evil and wrong-doing. He had once run away from home with a circus; he had twice narrowly escaped drowning, by venturing on the thin ice he had been forbidden to venture on in the early winter; his crowning achievement, however, was having been blown up in a Fourth of July celebration which he had arranged with stolen powder; but the complete list of his crimes would have filled a long summer afternoon.
It was Benjamin Wade who constituted himself Reddy's historian, though he received occasional promptings from Spike, who seemed most anxious that he should overlook no act that had gone to make up the sum and substance of Reddy's iniquity; and while Benjamin Wade was thus busy, Reddy himself was seen to visibly swell with pride.
Stephen, piously reared and with certain maxims of Mrs. Pope's New England morality fresh in his mind, and rejoicing in the recently acquired knowledge that there was such a place as hell, apparently especially designed for little boys who were a trouble to their elders, or who told lies or stole, or otherwise misconducted themselves, was in momentary fear that the hardened sinner before him would be forcibly dragged from their midst by a legion of devils; but nothing of the sort happened. Reddy chuckled and gurgled as Ben and Spike proceeded with the story of his crimes; no Voice issued from the wide blue arch above them, and the earth at their feet did not rend itself; evidently Mrs. Pope's facts were not designed to fit the peculiar case of Riley Crittendon.
“But you are almost as bad; ain't you?” he said to Benjamin Wade. “You steal;” but he spoke with some trepidation, at its worst this was evidently a venial error.
“I ain't a patch on him, am I Reddy?”
“Naw,” said Reddy disdainfully.
“There ain't a feller in this part of town, maybe not in the whole town that can touch Reddy!” said Spike generously; and Reddy chuckled and gurgled again at this.
When they had sufficiently glorified Reddy, they imparted to Stephen facts that he had not known before; amongst others, that old Jake Benson was the richest man in town, and that he, Stephen, was reputed to be the lawyer's heir, this was very pleasant, but Stephen was profoundly shocked when the abandoned Reddy said:
“I should think you would be mighty anxious to have him die quick so as you could get your hand on his money and spend it—I bet I would!”
After this Stephen saw much of the boys, and they helped him through the long summer days; but he only saw them in the safe retreat back of the grape arbours; they dared not venture further into the grounds with him where they would fall under Peter's eye, and he dared not quit the grounds with them, though once or twice he mustered courage to go into the back alley with Benjamin Wade, and was promptly returned to his own domain by the sinful Reddy, who seemed to have established himself his mentor in all nice questions of morality. It was also Reddy who advanced the theory that when they came to see Stephen, they must let old Dutchy's fruit alone, and when Spike took it upon himself to violate this rule of conduct it was the capable Reddy who blacked his eye.