Edward Stratemeyer - The Missing Tin Box - or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds

"Say, wot did yer do dat fer?" demanded the other boy, as soon as he was once more on his feet.

"Tit for tat, you know," returned Hal. "I guess you're not hurt, are you?"

The stranger stared at Hal. He had never met with such a kindly answer before.

"Hurt! o' course I ain't hurt," he returned, slowly.

"You threw at me first, didn't you?"

"Wot if I did?"

"Nothing, only that's why I threw back."

The stranger stared at Hal for a moment.

"Who are you?" he asked, abruptly.

"My name is Hal Carson. What's yours?"

"Jack McCabe."

Hal held out his hand.

"I'm glad to know you. I just came to New York, and I only know one person here."

"Git out! is dat so?" Jack McCabe shook hands rather gingerly. "Den yer ain't one o' der boys, is yer?"

"What boys?"

"Der fellers around town."

"Hardly."

"Got work here?"

"I expect to get work from a man in Wall Street."

"Goin' ter be a broker, hey?" grinned Jack.

"Here, get to work there, you lazy dog!" shouted a man from the inside of a near-by store, and Jack dropped his conversation and began to clean off the sidewalk with vigor.

Hal walked on. He did not know under what exciting circumstances he was to meet Jack McCabe again.

Promptly at ten o'clock Hal presented himself at the number given him on Wall Street. The sign over the door read Sumner, Allen & Co., Brokers.

He opened the door and entered. There was a small place in the front partitioned from the rear office by a counter and a brass grating.

A man sat writing at a desk in the rear. He glanced at Hal, and seeing it was only a boy, went on with his work.

Five minutes passed. Then the man swung around leisurely, got down from his stool, and came forward.

As soon as Hal caught sight of the man's face he was astonished.

It was Hardwick, the fellow whose conversation he had overheard on the ferry boat the evening before.

"What do you want?" asked Hardwick abruptly.

"Is Mr. Sumner in?" returned Hal.

"No."

"Then I'll wait till he comes."

Hardwick stared at Hal.

"Won't I do?" he asked sharply.

"I'm afraid not, sir."

"What do you want to see him about?"

"He asked me to call," replied the youth. He was not particularly pleased with Hardwick's manner.

"I am the book-keeper here, and I generally transact business during Mr. Sumner's absence."

"Mr. Sumner asked me to meet him here at ten o'clock."

"Oh! You know him, then?"

"Not very well."

"I thought not." Hardwick glanced at Hal's shabby clothes. "Well, you had better wait outside until he comes. We don't allow loungers about the office."

"I will," said Hal, and he turned to leave.

It was bitter cold outside, but he would have preferred being on the sidewalk than being in the way, especially when such a man as Felix Hardwick was around.

But, as he turned to leave, a coach drove up to the door, and Mr. Sumner alighted. His face lit up with a smile when he caught sight of Hal.

"Well, my young friend, I see you are on time," he said, catching Hal by the shoulder, and turning him back into the office.

"Yes, sir."

"That's right." Mr. Sumner turned to Hardwick. "Where is Dick?" he asked.

"I don't know, sir," returned the book-keeper.

"Hasn't he been here this morning?"

"I think not."

"The sidewalk ought to be cleaned. That boy evidently doesn't want work."

"I will clean the walk, if you wish me to," put in Hal.

"I have an office boy who is expected to do such things," replied Mr. Sumner. "That is, when the janitor of the building doesn't get at it in time. But he is getting more negligent every day. Yes, you might as well do the job, and then come into the back office and have a talk with me."

"Yes, sir."

"Mr. Hardwick, just show Carson where the shovel and broom are."

The book-keeper scowled.

"This way," he said, and led the boy to a small closet under a stairs.

Just as Hal was about to leave the office with the broom and the shovel, a tall, well dressed boy entered.

He was whistling at a lively rate, but stopped short on seeing Mr. Sumner.

"Well, Ferris, this is a pretty time to come around," said the broker, sharply.

"I couldn't help it," returned the boy, who was considerably older than Hal, and had coarse features and fiery red hair.

"Why not?"

"My aunt forgot to call me."

"That is a poor excuse."

Dick Ferris began to drum on the railing with his flat hands.

"Didn't I tell you to be here every morning at nine o'clock?" went on the broker. "I am sure that is not very early for any one."

"'Tain't my fault when it snows like this," returned the boy. "My aunt ought to call me."

"Did you arrange that file of papers yesterday afternoon after I left?" continued Mr. Sumner.

"I was going to do that this morning."

"I told you to do it yesterday. You had plenty of time."

"I ain't got nothing to do this morning."

"There are a great number of things to do, Ferris, but evidently you are not the boy who cares to do them. I warned you only a week ago that you must mend your ways. I think hereafter we will dispense with your service. Mr. Hardwick, please pay him his wages in full for the week. We will get some one else to fill his position."

Mr. Sumner turned to the rear office.

"I don't care," muttered Ferris. "Hand over the stuff," he said to Hardwick.

Having received his money, he calmly lit a cigarette, puffed away upon it for a minute, and then went out slamming the door as hard as possible after him.

Hal was already at work, clearing away the snow at a lively rate. Ferris approached him.

"Say, are you the fellow that did me out of my job?" he asked, savagely.

"I haven't done any one out of a job," returned Hal. "Do you work here?"

"I did, but I don't any more."

"Why not?"

"Because old Sumner expects the earth from me and he can't get it; see?" Ferris winked one eye. "I'm too smart to allow myself to be stepped onto, I am. You had better quit working; he won't pay you much for your trouble."

"I'll risk it," replied Hal.

"If I find you played me foul, I'll break you all up," went on Ferris. And with this threat he hurried off.

Hal looked after the boy for an instant and then continued his work. The sidewalk was soon cleaned, and he returned to the office.

Hardwick let him in behind the railing, giving him a sharp look as he passed.

"I've seen him somewhere before," he muttered to himself, as he continued at his books. "But where I can't remember."

"What! done already?" exclaimed Mr. Sumner to Hal.

"Yes, sir."

"It didn't take long."

"It wasn't much of a job, sir."

"Ferris would have taken all of the morning."

"Was that the boy who just left?"

"Yes."

"He said he would whip me if I played him foul."

"Humph! He is a bad boy. You must be careful, and not get into any trouble."

"I will, sir. But I am not afraid of him."

"No; you look as if you could take care of yourself." Mr. Sumner rubbed his chin. "So you say you have no prospects ahead?"

"No, sir, but I am not afraid – "

"Let me see your handwriting."

The broker shoved a pad toward Hal, and handed him a pen filled with ink.

Hal put down a sentence or two, and added his own name.

"That will do very well. You say you can figure fairly?"

"I have been through the common school arithmetic."

"What would my commission be on six thousand dollars' worth of bonds, sold at one hundred and fifteen, commission one-quarter of one per cent?"

Hal figured for a moment.

"Seventeen dollars and twenty-five cents," he said.