Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. Ragged Dick, Or, Street Life in New York with the Boot-Blacks by Jr. Horatio Alger (free ebooks for android .txt) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
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“Yes,” said Fosdick, “it looks like it.”
“What’s to be done? That’s what I’d like to know,” said Dick. “Of course he’ll say he hasn’t got it; and he won’t be such a fool as to leave it in his room.”
“If he hasn’t been to the bank, it’s all right,” said Fosdick. “You can go there the first thing to-morrow morning, and stop their paying any money on it.”
“But I can’t get any money on it myself,” said Dick. “I told Tom Wilkins I’d let him have some more money to-morrow, or his sick mother’ll have to turn out of their lodgin’s.”
“How much money were you going to give him?”
“I gave him three dollars to-day, and was goin’ to give him two dollars to-morrow.”
“I’ve got the money, Dick. I didn’t go to the bank this morning.”
“All right. I’ll take it, and pay you back next week.”
“No, Dick; if you’ve given three dollars, you must let me give two.”
“No, Fosdick, I’d rather give the whole. You know I’ve got more money than you. No, I haven’t, either,” said Dick, the memory of his loss flashing upon him. “I thought I was rich this morning, but now I’m in destitoot circumstances.”
“Cheer up, Dick; you’ll get your money back.”
“I hope so,” said our hero, rather ruefully.
The fact was, that our friend Dick was beginning to feel what is so often experienced by men who do business of a more important character and on a larger scale than he, the bitterness of a reverse of circumstances. With one hundred dollars and over carefully laid away in the savings bank, he had felt quite independent. Wealth is comparative, and Dick probably felt as rich as many men who are worth a hundred thousand dollars. He was beginning to feel the advantages of his steady self-denial, and to experience the pleasures of property. Not that Dick was likely to be unduly attached to money. Let it be said to his credit that it had never given him so much satisfaction as when it enabled him to help Tom Wilkins in his trouble.
Besides this, there was another thought that troubled him. When he obtained a place he could not expect to receive as much as he was now making from blacking boots,—probably not more than three dollars a week,—while his expenses without clothing would amount to four dollars. To make up the deficiency he had confidently relied upon his savings, which would be sufficient to carry him along for a year, if necessary. If he should not recover his money, he would be compelled to continue a boot-black for at least six months longer; and this was rather a discouraging reflection. On the whole it is not to be wondered at that Dick felt unusually sober this evening, and that neither of the boys felt much like studying.
The two boys consulted as to whether it would be best to speak to Travis about it. It was not altogether easy to decide. Fosdick was opposed to it.
“It will only put him on his guard,” said he, “and I don’t see as it will do any good. Of course he will deny it. We’d better keep quiet, and watch him, and, by giving notice at the bank, we can make sure that he doesn’t get any money on it. If he does present himself at the bank, they will know at once that he is a thief, and he can be arrested.”
This view seemed reasonable, and Dick resolved to adopt it. On the whole, he began to think prospects were brighter than he had at first supposed, and his spirits rose a little.
“How’d he know I had any bank-book? That’s what I can’t make out,” he said.
“Don’t you remember?” said Fosdick, after a moment’s thought, “we were speaking of our savings, two or three evenings since?”
“Yes,” said Dick.
“Our door was a little open at the time, and I heard somebody come upstairs, and stop a minute in front of it. It must have been Jim Travis. In that way he probably found out about your money, and took the opportunity to-day to get hold of it.”
This might or might not be the correct explanation. At all events it seemed probable.
The boys were just on the point of going to bed, later in the evening, when a knock was heard at the door, and, to their no little surprise, their neighbor, Jim Travis, proved to be the caller. He was a sallow-complexioned young man, with dark hair and bloodshot eyes.
He darted a quick glance from one to the other as he entered, which did not escape the boys’ notice.
“How are ye, to-night?” he said, sinking into one of the two chairs with which the room was scantily furnished.
“Jolly,” said Dick. “How are you?”
“Tired as a dog,” was the reply. “Hard work and poor pay; that’s the way with me. I wanted to go to the theater, to-night, but I was hard up, and couldn’t raise the cash.”
Here he darted another quick glance at the boys; but neither betrayed anything.
“You don’t go out much, do you?” he said
“Not much,” said Fosdick. “We spend our evenings in study.”
“That’s precious slow,” said Travis, rather contemptuously. “What’s the use of studying so much? You don’t expect to be a lawyer, do you, or anything of that sort?”
“Maybe,” said Dick. “I haven’t made up my mind yet. If my feller-citizens should want me to go to Congress some time, I shouldn’t want to disapp’int ’em; and then readin’ and writin’ might come handy.”
“Well,” said Travis, rather abruptly, “I’m tired and I guess I’ll turn in.”
“Good-night,” said Fosdick.
The boys looked at each other as their visitor left the room.
“He came in to see if we’d missed the bank-book,” said Dick.
“And to turn off suspicion from himself, by letting us know he had no money,” added Fosdick.
“That’s so,” said Dick. “I’d like to have searched them pockets of his.”
TRACKING THE THIEF
Fosdick was right in supposing that Jim Travis had stolen the bank-book. He was also right in supposing that that worthy young man had come to the knowledge of Dick’s savings by what he had accidentally overheard. Now, Travis, like a very large number of young men of his class, was able to dispose of a larger amount of money than he was able to earn. Moreover, he had no great fancy for work at all, and would have been glad to find some other way of obtaining money enough to pay his expenses. He had recently received a letter from an old companion, who had strayed out to California, and going at once to the mines had been lucky enough to get possession of a very remunerative claim. He wrote to Travis that he had already realized two thousand dollars from it, and expected to make his fortune within six months.
Two thousand dollars! This seemed to Travis a very large sum, and quite dazzled his imagination. He was at once inflamed with the desire to go out to California and try his luck. In his present situation he only received thirty dollars a month, which was probably all that his services were worth, but went a very little way towards gratifying his expensive tastes. Accordingly he determined to take the next steamer to the land of gold, if he could possibly manage to get money enough to pay the passage.
The price of a steerage passage at that time was seventy-five dollars,—not a large sum, certainly,—but it might as well have been seventy-five hundred for any chance James Travis had of raising the amount at present. His available funds consisted of precisely two dollars and a quarter; of which sum, one dollar and a half was due to his washerwoman. This, however, would not have troubled Travis much, and he would conveniently have forgotten all about it; but, even leaving this debt unpaid, the sum at his command would not help him materially towards paying his passage money.
Travis applied for help to two or three of his companions; but they were all of that kind who never keep an account with savings banks, but carry all their spare cash about with them. One of these friends offered to lend him thirty-seven cents, and another a dollar; but neither of these offers seemed to encourage him much. He was about giving up his project in despair, when he learned, accidentally, as we have already said, the extent of Dick’s savings.
One hundred and seventeen dollars! Why, that would not only pay his passage, but carry him up to the mines, after he had arrived in San Francisco. He could not help thinking it over, and the result of this thinking was that he determined to borrow it of Dick without leave. Knowing that neither of the boys were in their room in the daytime, he came back in the course of the morning, and, being admitted by Mrs. Mooney herself, said, by way of accounting for his presence, that he had a cold, and had come back for a handkerchief. The landlady suspected nothing, and, returning at once to her work in the kitchen, left the coast clear.
Travis at once entered Dick’s room, and, as there seemed to be no other place for depositing money, tried the bureau-drawers. They were all readily opened, except one, which proved to be locked. This he naturally concluded must contain the money, and going back to his own chamber for the key of the bureau, tried it on his return, and found to his satisfaction that it would fit. When he discovered the bank-book, his joy was mingled with disappointment. He had expected to find bank-bills instead. This would have saved all further trouble, and would have been immediately available. Obtaining money at the savings bank would involve fresh risk. Travis hesitated whether to take it or not; but finally decided that it would be worth the trouble and hazard.
He accordingly slipped the book into his pocket, locked the drawer again, and, forgetting all about the handkerchief for which he had come home went downstairs, and into the street.
There would have been time to go to the savings bank that day, but Travis had already been absent from his place of business some time, and did not venture to take the additional time required. Besides, not being very much used to savings banks, never having had occasion to use them, he thought it would be more prudent to look over the rules and regulations, and see if he could not get some information as to the way he ought to proceed. So the day passed, and Dick’s money was left in safety at the bank.
In the evening, it occurred to Travis that it might be well to find out whether Dick had discovered his loss. This reflection it was that induced the visit which is recorded at the close of the last chapter. The result was that he was misled by the boys’ silence on the subject, and concluded that nothing had yet been discovered.
“Good!” thought Travis, with satisfaction. “If they don’t find out for twenty-four hours, it’ll be too late, then, and I shall be all right.”
There being a possibility of the loss being discovered before the boys went out in the morning, Travis determined to see them at that time, and judge whether such was the case. He waited, therefore, until he heard the boys come out, and then opened his own door.
“Morning, gents,” said he, sociably. “Going to business?”
“Yes,” said Dick. “I’m afraid my clerks’ll be lazy if I aint on hand.”
“Good joke!” said Travis. “If you pay good wages, I’d like to speak for a place.”
“I pay all I get myself,” said Dick. “How’s business with you?”
“So so. Why don’t you call round, some time?”
“All my evenin’s is devoted to literatoor and science,” said Dick. “Thank you all the same.”
“Where do you hang out?” inquired Travis, in choice language, addressing Fosdick.
“At Henderson’s hat and cap store, on Broadway.”
“I’ll look in upon you some time when I want a tile,” said Travis. “I suppose you sell cheaper to your friends.”
“I’ll be as reasonable as I can,” said Fosdick, not very cordially; for he did not much fancy having it supposed by his employer that such a disreputable-looking person as Travis was a friend of his.
However, Travis had no idea of showing himself at the Broadway store, and only said this by way of making conversation, and encouraging the boys to be social.
“You haven’t any of you gents seen a pearl-handled knife, have you?” he asked.
“No,” said Fosdick; “have you lost one?”
“Yes,” said Travis, with unblushing falsehood. “I left it on my bureau a day or two since. I’ve missed one or two other little matters. Bridget don’t look to me any too honest. Likely she’s got ’em.”
“What are
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