[Lyric] Ragged Dick Chapter 11: DICK AS A DETECTIVE (Horatio Alger)

Dick's ready identification of the rogue who had cheated the
countryman, surprised Frank.

"What makes you think it is he?" he asked.

"Because I've seen him before, and I know he's up to them kind of
tricks. When I heard how he looked, I was sure I knowed him."

"Our recognizing him won't be of much use," said Frank. "It won't
give back the countryman his money."

"I don't know," said Dick, thoughtfully. "May be I can get it."

"How?" asked Frank, incredulously.

"Wait a minute, and you'll see."

Dick left his companion, and went up to the man whom he suspected.

"Ephraim Smith," said Dick, in a low voice.
The man turned suddenly, and looked at Dick uneasily.

"What did you say?" he asked.

"I believe your name is Ephraim Smith," continued Dick.

"You're mistaken," said the man, and was about to move off.

"Stop a minute," said Dick. "Don't you keep your money in the
Washington Bank?"

"I don't know any such bank. I'm in a hurry, young man, and I can't
stop to answer any foolish questions."

The boat had by this time reached the Brooklyn pier, and Mr. Ephraim
Smith seemed in a hurry to land.

"Look here," said Dick, significantly; "you'd better not go on shore
unless you want to jump into the arms of a policeman."

"What do you mean?" asked the man, startled.

"That little affair of yours is known to the police," said Dick;
"about how you got fifty dollars out of a greenhorn on a false
check, and it mayn't be safe for you to go ashore."
"I don't know what you're talking about," said the swindler with
affected boldness, though Dick could see that he was ill at ease.

"Yes you do," said Dick. "There isn't but one thing to do. Just give
me back that money, and I'll see that you're not touched. If you
don't, I'll give you up to the first p'liceman we meet."

Dick looked so determined, and spoke so confidently, that the other,
overcome by his fears, no longer hesitated, but passed a roll of
bills to Dick and hastily left the boat.

All this Frank witnessed with great amazement, not understanding
what influence Dick could have obtained over the swindler sufficient
to compel restitution.

"How did you do it?" he asked eagerly.

"I told him I'd exert my influence with the president to have him
tried by _habeas corpus_," said Dick.

"And of course that frightened him. But tell me, without joking, how
you managed."

Dick gave a truthful account of what occurred, and then said, "Now
we'll go back and carry the money."
"Suppose we don't find the poor countryman?"

"Then the p'lice will take care of it."

They remained on board the boat, and in five minutes were again in
New York. Going up Wall Street, they met the countryman a little
distance from the Custom House. His face was marked with the traces
of deep anguish; but in his case even grief could not subdue the
cravings of appetite. He had purchased some cakes of one of the old
women who spread out for the benefit of passers-by an array of
apples and seed-cakes, and was munching them with melancholy
satisfaction.

"Hilloa!" said Dick. "Have you found your money?"

"No," ejaculated the young man, with a convulsive gasp. "I shan't
ever see it again. The mean skunk's cheated me out of it. Consarn
his picter! It took me most six months to save it up. I was workin'
for Deacon Pinkham in our place. Oh, I wish I'd never come to New
York! The deacon, he told me he'd keep it for me; but I wanted to
put it in the bank, and now it's all gone, boo hoo!"

And the miserable youth, having despatched his cakes, was so
overcome by the thought of his loss that he burst into tears.

"I say," said Dick, "dry up, and see what I've got here."

The youth no sooner saw the roll of bills, and comprehended that it
was indeed his lost treasure, than from the depths of anguish he was
exalted to the most ecstatic joy. He seized Dick's hand, and shook
it with so much energy that our hero began to feel rather alarmed
for its safety.

"'Pears to me you take my arm for a pump-handle," said he. "Couldn't
you show your gratitood some other way? It's just possible I may
want to use my arm ag'in some time."

The young man desisted, but invited Dick most cordially to come up
and stop a week with him at his country home, assuring him that he
wouldn't charge him anything for board.

"All right!" said Dick. "If you don't mind I'll bring my wife along,
too. She's delicate, and the country air might do her good."

Jonathan stared at him in amazement, uncertain whether to credit the
fact of his marriage. Dick walked on with Frank, leaving him in an
apparent state of stupefaction, and it is possible that he has not
yet settled the affair to his satisfaction.

"Now," said Frank, "I think I'll go back to the Astor House. Uncle
has probably got through his business and returned."

"All right," said Dick.

The two boys walked up to Broadway, just where the tall steeple of
Trinity faces the street of bankers and brokers, and walked
leisurely to the hotel. When they arrived at the Astor House, Dick
said, "Good-by, Frank."

"Not yet," said Frank; "I want you to come in with me."

Dick followed his young patron up the steps. Frank went to the
reading-room, where, as he had thought probable, he found his uncle
already arrived, and reading a copy of "The Evening Post," which he
had just purchased outside.

"Well, boys," he said, looking up, "have you had a pleasant jaunt?"

"Yes, sir," said Frank. "Dick's a capital guide."

"So this is Dick," said Mr. Whitney, surveying him with a smile.
"Upon my word, I should hardly have known him. I must congratulate
him on his improved appearance."

"Frank's been very kind to me," said Dick, who, rough street-boy as
he was, had a heart easily touched by kindness, of which he had
never experienced much. "He's a tip-top fellow."

"I believe he is a good boy," said Mr. Whitney. "I hope, my lad, you
will prosper and rise in the world. You know in this free country
poverty in early life is no bar to a man's advancement. I haven't
risen very high myself," he added, with a smile, "but have met with
moderate success in life; yet there was a time when I was as poor as
you."

"Were you, sir," asked Dick, eagerly.

"Yes, my boy, I have known the time I have been obliged to go
without my dinner because I didn't have enough money to pay for it."

"How did you get up in the world," asked Dick, anxiously.

"I entered a printing-office as an apprentice, and worked for some
years. Then my eyes gave out and I was obliged to give that up. Not
knowing what else to do, I went into the country, and worked on a
farm. After a while I was lucky enough to invent a machine, which
has brought me in a great deal of money. But there was one thing I
got while I was in the printing-office which I value more than
money."

"What was that, sir?"

"A taste for reading and study. During my leisure hours I improved
myself by study, and acquired a large part of the knowledge which I
now possess. Indeed, it was one of my books that first put me on the
track of the invention, which I afterwards made. So you see, my lad,
that my studious habits paid me in money, as well as in another
way."

"I'm awful ignorant," said Dick, soberly.

"But you are young, and, I judge, a smart boy. If you try to learn,
you can, and if you ever expect to do anything in the world, you
must know something of books."

"I will," said Dick, resolutely. "I ain't always goin' to black boots
for a livin'."

"All labor is respectable, my lad, and you have no cause to be
ashamed of any honest business; yet when you can get something to do
that promises better for your future prospects, I advise you to do
so. Till then earn your living in the way you are accustomed to,
avoid extravagance, and save up a little money if you can."

"Thank you for your advice," said our hero. "There ain't many that
takes an interest in Ragged Dick."

"So that's your name," said Mr. Whitney. "If I judge you rightly,
it won't be long before you change it. Save your money, my lad,
buy books, and determine to be somebody, and you may yet fill an
honorable position."

"I'll try," said Dick. "Good-night, sir."

"Wait a minute, Dick," said Frank. "Your blacking-box and old
clothes are upstairs. You may want them."

"In course," said Dick. "I couldn't get along without my best
clothes, and my stock in trade."

"You may go up to the room with him, Frank," said Mr. Whitney. "The
clerk will give you the key. I want to see you, Dick, before you
go."

"Yes, sir," said Dick.

"Where are you going to sleep to-night, Dick?" asked Frank, as they
went upstairs together.

"P'r'aps at the Fifth Avenue Hotel--on the outside," said Dick.

"Haven't you any place to sleep, then?"

"I slept in a box, last night."

"In a box?"

"Yes, on Spruce Street."

"Poor fellow!" said Frank, compassionately.

"Oh, 'twas a bully bed--full of straw! I slept like a top."

"Don't you earn enough to pay for a room, Dick?"

"Yes," said Dick; "only I spend my money foolish, goin' to the Old
Bowery, and Tony Pastor's, and sometimes gamblin' in Baxter Street."

"You won't gamble any more,--will you, Dick?" said Frank, laying his
hand persuasively on his companion's shoulder.

"No, I won't," said Dick.

"You'll promise?"

"Yes, and I'll keep it. You're a good feller. I wish you was goin'
to be in New York."

"I am going to a boarding-school in Connecticut. The name of the
town is Barnton. Will you write to me, Dick?"

"My writing would look like hens' tracks," said our hero.

"Never mind. I want you to write. When you write you can tell me how
to direct, and I will send you a letter."

"I wish you would," said Dick. "I wish I was more like you."

"I hope you will make a much better boy, Dick. Now we'll go in to my
uncle. He wishes to see you before you go."

They went into the reading-room. Dick had wrapped up his
blacking-brush in a newspaper with which Frank had supplied him,
feeling that a guest of the Astor House should hardly be seen
coming out of the hotel displaying such a professional sign.

"Uncle, Dick's ready to go," said Frank.

"Good-by, my lad," said Mr. Whitney. "I hope to hear good accounts
of you sometime. Don't forget what I have told you. Remember that
your future position depends mainly upon yourself, and that it will
be high or low as you choose to make it."

He held out his hand, in which was a five-dollar bill. Dick shrunk
back.

"I don't like to take it," he said. "I haven't earned it."

"Perhaps not," said Mr. Whitney; "but I give it to you because I
remember my own friendless youth. I hope it may be of service to
you. Sometime when you are a prosperous man, you can repay it in the
form of aid to some poor boy, who is struggling upward as you are
now."

"I will, sir," said Dick, manfully.

He no longer refused the money, but took it gratefully, and, bidding
Frank and his uncle good-by, went out into the street. A feeling of
loneliness came over him as he left the presence of Frank, for whom
he had formed a strong attachment in the few hours he had known him.