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. Dan, the Newsboy by Jr. Horatio Alger (phonics reading books .TXT) 📖
- Author: Jr. Horatio Alger
Book online «Dan, the Newsboy by Jr. Horatio Alger (phonics reading books .TXT) 📖». Author Jr. Horatio Alger
"Have you found out what you want to know?"
[Pg 262]
"Yes. Have you anything to do for the next two hours?"
"No."
"Then I'll pay you another dollar to go to the place with me. I think I could find it myself, but I can't take any chances. And don't say a word about what you have seen."
"I won't. Is this little gal your sister?"
"She is my adopted sister, and she has been stolen from us."
"Then I'd be willing to help you for nothing. I've got a little sister about her size. If anybody stole her, I'd mash him!"
"Come along, then."
The two boys boarded a car, and in forty minutes got out.
"That's the place," said the newsboy, pointing out Donovan's, only a few rods away.
"All right. You'd better leave me now, or you may be remembered, and that would lead them to suspect me. Here's your money, and thank you."
"I hope you'll find your sister."
"Thank you. If I do, it'll be through your help."
Dan did not at once enter Donovan's. He stopped in the street, and began to sing "Viva Garibaldi."
Two or three boys gathered about him, and finally a[Pg 263] couple of men. One of them handed him a three-cent piece.
"Grazio, signor," said Dan, pulling off his hat.
"What part of Italy do you come from?" asked one of the men.
"Si, signor, I come from Italy," answered Dan, not considering it prudent to understand too well.
"Oh, he don't understand you. Come along."
"His hair doesn't look like that of most Italians."
"Pooh! I'd know him for an Italian boy anywhere."
At this moment the door of the saloon opened, and Dan, putting his violin under his arm, entered.
[Pg 264]
CHAPTER XXXVII. DAN IS DISCOVERED.Donovan had two customers. One was an Irishman, the other a German. Both had evidently drank more than was good for them. Dan looked in vain for Althea. Mrs. Donovan had taken her up stairs.
"Well, boy, what do you want?" asked Donovan, rather roughly.
"Will you have yer musique?" asked Dan, uncertain whether he was talking as an Italian boy might be expected to.
"No; I don't want to hear any fiddle-scraping."
"Shure, let him play a little, Mister Donovan," said the Irishman.
"Just as you like," said Donovan, carelessly, "only I have no money for him."
"Faith, thin, I have. Here boy, play something."
Dan struck up his one tune—Viva Garibaldi—but the Irishman did not seem to care for that.
"Oh, bother ould Garibaldi!" he said. "Can't you play something else?"
"I wish I could," thought Dan. "Suppose I compose something."
[Pg 265]
Accordingly he tried to play an air popular enough at the time, but made bad work of it.
"Stop him! stop him!" exclaimed the German, who had a better musical ear than the Irishman. "Here, lend me your fiddle, boy."
He took the violin, and in spite of his inebriety, managed to play a German air upon it.
"Shure you bate the boy at his own trade," said the Irishman. "You must be dhry. What'll you have now?"
The German indicated his preference, and the Irishman called for whisky.
"What'll you have, Johnny?" he asked, addressing Dan.
"I no drink," answered our hero, shaking his head.
"Shure you're an Italian wonder, and it's Barnum ought to hire you."
"I no understand English," said Dan.
"Then you're a haythen," said Pat Moriarty.
He gulped down the whisky, and finding it more convenient to sit than to stand, fell back upon a settee.
"I wish Althea would come in," thought Dan.
At that moment a heavy fall was heard in the room overhead, and a child's shrill scream directly afterward.
"Something's happened to my wife," muttered Donovan. "She's drunk again."
[Pg 266]
He hurried up stairs, and the German followed. This gave Dan an excuse for running up, too.
Mrs. Donovan had been drinking more copiously than usual. While in this condition she imprudently got upon a chair to reach a pitcher from an upper shelf. Her footing was uncertain, and she fell over, pitcher in hand, the chair sharing in the downfall.
When her husband entered the room she was lying flat on her back, grasping the handle of the pitcher, her eyes closed, and her breathing stertorious. Althea, alarmed, stood over her, crying and screaming.
"The old woman's taken too much," said Donovan. "Get up, you divil!" he shouted, leaning over his matrimonial partner. "Ain't you ashamed of yourself, now?"
Mrs. Donovan opened her eyes, and stared at him vacantly.
"Where am I?" she inquired.
"On your back, you old fool, where you deserve to be."
"It's the whisky," murmured the fallen lady.
"Of course it is. Why can't you drink dacent like me? Shure it's a purty example you're settin' to the child. Ain't you ashamed to lie here in a hape before them gintlemen?"
This called Althea's attention to the German and[Pg 267] Dan. In spite of Dan's disguise, she recognized him with a cry of joy.
"Oh, Dan! have you come to take me away?" she exclaimed, dashing past Donovan, and clasping her arms round the supposed Italian.
"Oh, Dan! Have you come to take me away?" Althea exclaimed.
"Hillo! what's up?" exclaimed Donovan, looking at the two in surprise.
"Oh, it's my brother Dan," exclaimed Althea. "You'll take me away, won't you, Dan? How funny you look! Where did you get your fiddle?"
"So that's your game, my young chicken, is it?" demanded Donovan, seizing our hero roughly by the shoulder. Then pulling off Dan's hat, he added: "You're no more Italian than I am."
Dan saw that it would be useless to keep up the deceit any longer. He looked Donovan full in the face, and said, firmly:
"You are right, Mr. Donovan, I have come here for my sister."
[Pg 268]
CHAPTER XXXVIII. UNPLEASANT QUARTERS.Donovan's red face turned fairly purple with rage.
"Well, I'll be blowed!" he said, adding an oath or two. "You're a bold little pup! You dare to insult me! Why, I could crush you with my little finger."
"I have not insulted you," said Dan. "I have only come for my sister."
"I don't know anything about your sister. So you can go about your business."
"That little girl is my adopted sister," said Dan, pointing to Althea. "Ask her if she doesn't know me."
"That is my daughter, Katy Donovan," said the saloon keeper.
"No, I am not," said Althea, beginning to cry. "I want to go away with my brother Dan."
"Shut up, you little jade!" said Donovan, roughly. "Mrs. Donovan," (by this time she was on her feet, looking on in a dazed sort of way), "is not this our little Katy?"
"Shure it is," she answered.
[Pg 269]
"You see, young man, you're mistaken. You can leave," and Donovan waved his hand triumphantly.
"That's too thin, Mrs. Donovan!" said Dan, provoked. "That don't go down. I can bring plenty of proof that Althea was until a week since living with my mother."
"That for your proof!" said Donovan, contemptuously snapping his fingers.
"I know who stole her, and who brought her to this house," continued Dan.
Donovan started. The boy knew more than he had expected.
"The same man has been here to-day," added Dan.
"You lie!" retorted Donovan, but he looked uneasy.
"You know that I tell the truth. How much does he pay you for taking care of the girl?"
"Enough of this!" roared the saloon keeper. "I can't waste my time talkin' wid you. Will you clear out now?"
"No, I won't, unless Althea goes with me," said Dan, firmly.
"You won't, then! We'll see about that," and Donovan, making a rush, seized Dan in his arms, and carried him down stairs, despite our hero's resistance.
"I'll tache you to come here insultin' your betters!" he exclaimed.
[Pg 270]
Dan struggled to get away, but though a strong boy, he was not a match for a powerful man, and could not effect his deliverance. The Irishman already referred to was still upon the settee.
"What's up, Donovan?" he asked, as the saloon-keeper appeared with his burden. "What's the lad been doin'?"
"What's he been doin', is it? He's been insultin' me to my face—that's what the Donovans won't stand. Open the trap-door, Barney."
"What for?"
"Don't trouble me wid your questions, but do as I tell you. You shall know afterward."
Not quite willingly, but reluctant to offend Donovan, who gave him credit for the drinks, Barney raised a trap-door leading to the cellar below.
There was a ladder for the convenience of those wishing to ascend and descend, but Donovan was not disposed to use much ceremony with the boy who had offended him. He dropped him through the opening, Dan by good luck falling on his feet.
"That's the best place for you, you young meddler!" he said. "You'll find it mighty comfortable, and I wish you much joy. I won't charge you no rint, and that's an object in these hard times—eh, Barney?"
"To be sure it is," said Barney; "but all the same,[Pg 271] Donovan, I'd rather pay rint up stairs, if I had my choice!"
"He hasn't the choice," said Donovan triumphantly. "Good-by to you!" and he let the trap fall.
"What's it all about now, Donovan?" asked Barney.
"He wanted to shtale my Katy," said Donovan.
"What, right before your face?" asked Barney, puzzled.
"Yes, shure! What'll you take to drink?" asked Donovan, not caring to go into particulars.
Barney indicated his choice with alacrity, and, after drinking, was hardly in a condition to pursue his inquiries.
[Pg 272]
CHAPTER XXXIX. DAN DISCOMFITS THE DONOVANS.Dan found himself at first bewildered and confused by his sudden descent into the cellar. As his eyes became accustomed to the darkness, he was able to get an idea of his surroundings. It was a common cellar with an earthen floor. Ranged along one side was a row of kegs, some containing whisky, others empty. Besides, there were a few boxes and odds and ends which had been placed here to get them out of the way.
"Not a very cheerful-looking place," thought Dan, "though I do get it rent free."
He sat down on a box, and began to consider his position. Was there any way of escape? The walls were solid, and although there was a narrow window, consisting of a row of single panes, it was at the top of the cellar, and not easily accessible. He might indeed reach it by the ladder, but he would have to break the glass and crawl through, a mode of escape likely to be attended by personal risk.
"No, that won't do," thought Dan. "At any rate, I won't try it till other things fail."
[Pg 273]
Meanwhile Donovan, in the bar-room above, was in high good humor. He felt that he had done a sharp thing, and more than once chuckled as he thought of his prisoner below. Indeed he could not forbear, after about half an hour, lifting the trap and calling down stairs:
"Hallo, there!"
"Hallo!" said Dan, coolly.
"What are you doin'?"
"Sitting on a box."
"How do you like it?" chuckled Donovan.
"Come down and see."
"You're an impudent jackanapes!" retorted Donovan, wrathfully. "You'll get enough of it before you're through."
"So will you," answered Dan, boldly.
"I'll take the risk," chuckled Donovan. "Do you know what you remind me of?"
"Suppose you tell me."
"You're like a rat in a trap."
"Not exactly," answered Dan, as a bright thought dawned upon him.
"Why not?"
"Because a rat can do no harm, and I can."
It occurred to Donovan that Dan might have some matches in his pocket, and was momentarily alarmed[Pg 274] at the thought that our hero might set the house on fire.
"Have you matches with you?" he asked.
"No," answered Dan.
"If you had," said the saloon-keeper, relieved, "it would do you no good to set a fire. You would only burn yourself up."
"I don't mean to set the house on fire," said Dan, composedly.
"Then you may do your worst. You can't scare me."
"Can't I?" returned Dan, rising from his seat on the box.
"What are you going to do?" asked Donovan, following with his glance the boy's motion.
"I'll tell you," said Dan. "I'm going to take the spigot out of them whisky-kegs, and let the whisky run out on the floor."
"Don't you do it!" exclaimed the saloon-keeper, now thoroughly frightened.
"Then let me up."
"I won't."
"All right. You must take the consequences."
As he spoke Dan dextrously pulled the spigot from a keg, and Donovan, to his dismay, heard the precious liquid—precious in his eyes—pouring out upon the floor.
[Pg 275]
With an exertion he raised the trap-door, hastily descended the ladder, and rushed to the keg to replace the spigot.
Meanwhile Dan ran up the ladder, pulled it after him, and made his late jailer a captive.
"Put down
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