Larry Dexter, Reporter/Chapter 29

Jimmy, holding tightly to Larry's hand, started away from the bench in the Garden where he had watched the wonderful show, the little fellow's mind was in a tumult at what he had seen. It was one endless round of delight for him, and he was sorry that it was over, that the people were going home, and that the performers had disappeared.

“Let's go and see the animals gain,” begged Jimmy, but Larry was too intent on getting out of the crowd to pay any attention to the request.

Just at that moment a lad, who seemed to be about the same age as Larry, stepped up behind Jimmy, who was lagging in the rear. He cast a sharp look at the young reporter and his little brother, and, when the small chap asked to be taken once more to the animals, the youth seemed to be much excited.

He leaned over and whispered to Jimmy, taking good care that Larry did not see him.

“If you come with me I'll take you to the animals,” the youth said. “We'll see the elephants, the tigers, the lions, the zebras, and the horses. Come on, Jimmy, and we'll have a good time!”

It was done in an instant, but, swift and low as the voice was, the little boy heard and understood. Still he remembered what his mother had said to him about keeping tight hold of Larry's hand. The strange youth seemed to understand this, for he went on:

“After we see the animals we'll come back to Larry. Don't let him know about this, for the animals might all run away, and we wouldn't see them again.”

That settled it for Jimmy. He was ready to do anything to see the wild beasts again, and was willing to keep quiet for fear of scaring them away.

So, almost before he knew what he was doing, Jimmy had released his hold of Larry's hand, and clasped that of the strange youth who promised such delights as unlimited quantities of wild animals.

Once he had hold of Jimmy, the youth made his way rapidly through the crowd. He dodged this way and that, pulling the little chap along, half dragging him at times, until Jimmy, from very weariness, cried out:

“Please show me the wild animals. I'm awful tired!”

“We'll soon be there,” the lad went on. “It's just around the next corner, and down a little ways. Oh, but you'll see the finest lot of animals that ever got into a circus!”

That satisfied Jimmy for a while, and he trudged on, not noticing that the crowd was thinning out, that his leader had left the Garden, and was walking along the street.

“Where are the animals?” asked the little boy, who was beginning to feel that all was not right.

“It's a little further now,” was the answer. “They are feeding the polar bear, and the lion is mad because they didn't give him his supper first, so we'll have to wait a while.”

This seemed reasonable to Jimmy, who knew that bears and lions were fierce beasts, and had to be humored. So he said nothing, only he wondered more and more why he had been taken away from the music and lights, and the companionship of his brother. But he was so small that he had no suspicions.

On and on the two trudged. They had left the well-lighted streets, and were in a dark section of the city, where only an occasional gas lamp gave a fitful gleam that illuminated a small circle, and seemed to leave the rest in denser blackness than if there had been no light.

“I'm afraid!” Jimmy said, after a while. “I want to go home!”

“All right; we'll go home after we see the animals!” said the youth, who seemed much elated over something.

“Don't want to see any animals! Want to go home!” Jimmy cried. “I want Larry! Take me to Larry!” and he began to sob.

“Now wait a minute!” the lad leading him exclaimed. “I'm going to show you the finest steam engine you ever saw, and I'll let you turn on the steam!”

“Honest and truly?” asked Jimmy, his mind suddenly turned from the idea of tears.

“Sure,” replied the youth. “It's just around the corner. Come on, now, before it gets away.”

Thereupon Jimmy hurried, full of glee at what had always been one of his childish ambitions—to run a steam-engine. The youth leading him went down many streets, until it seemed to the little fellow they must have traversed several miles. But Jimmy did not think of complaining, though he was very tired. His feet lagged behind now and again, however, and the youth leading him noticed this.

“Poor kid, I sort of hate to do this,” he said, “but I have to, or lose my job, and I never could get another after what I've done. I wish I could take a car, but someone might see us, and then the jig would be up. It isn't much farther, that's one good thing.”

He had been talking to himself in a low tone, and now and then he looked down on Jimmy to see how the little boy was standing the journey.

“Is it much farther?” asked the small lad.

“Not much. Just you think about the steam-engine, and you'll not notice how tired you are.”

“I'm trying to,” replied Jimmy, blinking to keep back the tears.

The youth chose the darkest and least-frequented streets, and seemed anxious to escape observation, as he led Jimmy along. Once he saw a policeman standing under a gas-lamp, and, at the sight of the bluecoat, the youth darted across the street, and slunk along in the shadow, keeping Jimmy on the side farthest away from the officer, at the same time cautioning the little boy to remain quiet, and not speak.

Down a side street that was more gloomy and lonesome than any they had yet traversed, the youth led his captive. There was, here and there, a gas-lamp, but it seemed to make the darkness only more intense. Strange-looking figures flitted here and there out of the shadows, apparently afraid of what little light there was.

Figures there were with loosely-fitting clothes, wide sleeves to the jackets, and wide trousers. On their feet were shoes with thick soles, and some of them had long braids of hair hanging down their backs. Jimmy caught sight of one, and huddled closer to the youth.

“There's a Chinaman!” the little fellow exclaimed. “I'm afraid of him!”

“Sure he's a Chinaman,” the youth agreed. “I call 'em Chinks. Nobody here calls 'em Chinamen.”

“I'm afraid,” repeated Jimmy. He always had had a sort of horror of the almond-eyed Celestials.

“They won't hurt you,” the youth assured him. “This is where they live. This is Chinatown. You'll have lots of fun. I know a Chink that'll make you a fine kite that'll sail away up in the air.”

“Honest?” asked the little boy, his fear temporarily gone at the mention of the kite.

“Sure, if you're a good boy.”

“You get the kite, and give it to me,” pleaded Jimmy. “I'm a-skeered to have a Chinaman come near me.”

“All right, I will,” agreed the youth. Then in a lower tone he added. “It's a good thing he is afraid. It will keep him from trying to escape. The house is full of Chinks, and he'll not try to leave the room after I get him in. I'll have an easier time than I thought I would.”

They went on past several dark houses. Now and then a door would open, letting a glimmer of light out from the hall. The portal would close quickly again, and the figure that had come out would slink along as though afraid of being seen.

“Here we are!” the youth exclaimed, coming to a halt in front of a three-storied building that was darker and more gloomy-looking than any they had yet passed.

“Is the steam-engine here?” asked Jimmy.

“Sure, come on in.”

“And the kite?”

“Yep. Come along, now, kid, and don't make any noise.”

Hardly able to drag one foot after another, so tired was he, Jimmy followed his captor to the stairs. Up two flights they went, until they came to the third-floor hall, then along that corridor until they reached a door that had a crude drawing of the rising sun painted upon it. The youth gave three raps, paused a second, rapped four times, and then thirteen times in quick succession. A little panel in the door opened, and a voice whispered:

“Who's there?”

“The Mikado's messenger,” was the youth's answer. “Hurry up and let me in; don't go through all the usual foolishness.”

“What does he bring?” the voice proceeded.

“A watermelon,” was the youth's reply. “Come on now, Jake, it's only”

“Mention no names!” exclaimed the voice, seemingly in anger. “Remember your instructions.”

The next instant the door opened, and the youth, pushing Jimmy in front of him, entered, when the portal was quickly shut. The man who had been at the slide locked and barred the door, and then followed the youth and Jimmy down a passage that led toward a room where a light glowed.

“Who's coming?” asked a voice from the room.

“It's me,” replied the youth.

“Any luck?”

“Sure; I've got the kid.”

“No! Good for you, Peter!” and then, as the youth and Jimmy entered the room, a man, who seemed to be scrubbing his hands at a sink, looked up, and laughed. “Good enough, Peter,” he went on. “We'll see what our friend Larry Dexter has to say now. He'll sing a different tune, I guess.”

“What you doing?” asked Peter Manton, for it was the old copy boy of the Leader who had kidnapped Jimmy, and delivered him into the power of the gang.

“Trying to get rid of that blue stuff on my hands,” was the man's answer. “It sticks worse than a porous plaster. I'll not dare to go out now, for that reporter, Newton, will have every detective in New York looking for me, and if they see my hands, even in gloves, they'll nab me, and the game will be up.”

“Do you think they'll suspect you?” asked Peter.

“Suspect? They probably know for a certainty that I'm mixed up in this. Those reporters are no fools. They're better than half the detectives.”

“Will they suspect me?” asked Peter, with something like a whimper in his voice.

“Of course, and if they get us you'll have to take your medicine with the rest.”

“You said you'd protect me,” said Peter.

“So I will as much as I can,” replied the blue-handed man, “but I can't fight the whole police force. I've done pretty well as it is.”

“I want the steam-engine and the kite,” said Jimmy, his voice trembling. “I want to go home! I want Larry!”

“We must keep him quiet,” the blue-handed man said. “Give him something to eat, and get out some kind of Chinese toys. He'll be asleep pretty soon, if I'm any judge.”