CHAPTER VII.
BOB HUNTER THOROUGHLY AROUSED.
When Bob Hunter returned from the evening school to his room, heexpected to find young Randolph there.
"He promised to be here," said Bob to himself; "I hope nothing hashappened to him."
The newsboy's manner showed some alarm. He felt anxious about hisfriend.
"Something has gone wrong, I believe, or he would surely come,"continued Bob, after waiting for a full half hour; "but I can't imaginewhat has steered him on to the wrong track."
Another half hour went by, and Herbert did not put in an appearance.
"I might's well stay here, I s'pose, as to go 'n' prowl round this townhuntin' for Vermont," said Bob, thoughtfully. "But I guess I'll see if Ican strike his trail. Any way I'll feel better, 'cause I'll know I'vedone something. It's no use to let a feller like him be run into thesedens, if the game can be stopped."
An hour's fruitless hunt, in and about the Bowery, failed to revealHerbert's whereabouts to the anxious searcher. He was unable to find anyone who remembered to have seen him.
After giving up all hope of learning what he wished to find out, Bobhurried back to his room, with a feeling of anxiety quite new to him. Hehad taken a great liking to our hero, and now felt thoroughly alarmed,fearing that foul play had been brought to bear upon him.
The next morning he was up bright and early, looking sharply after hispaper business, but he was not the Bob Hunter of the past. From thedrollest and funniest boy in the trade he had suddenly become the mostserious and thoughtful.
"What's hit you this mornin', Bob?" said Tom Flannery, a companionnewsboy.
"Why do you ask that?" returned Bob.
"Why, you look like you'd had a fit o' sickness."
"You're 'bout right, for I don't feel much like myself, no how. I didn'tget no sleep hardly at all, and I've worried myself thin--just seehere," and he pulled the waistband of his trousers out till there wasnearly enough unoccupied space in the body of them to put in another boyof his size.
He couldn't resist the opportunity for a joke, this comical lad, noteven now. The trousers had been given to him by one of his customers, aman of good size. Bob had simply shortened up the legs, so naturallythere was quite a quantity of superfluous cloth about his slim body.
"Gewhittaker!" exclaimed Tom, "I should think you have fell off! Butsay, Bob, what's gone bad? What's done it?" continued Tom, disposed tobe serious.
"Well, you know the boy I told you about, what's chummin' with me?"
"Yes, the one I saw you with last night, I s'pose?"
"Yes, the same one. Well, he is lost."
"Lost!" repeated Tom, incredulously.
BOB HUNTER, ALONE IN HIS ROOM, WONDERS WHAT HAS BECOME OFHIS NEW FRIEND.]
"Yes;" and Bob acquainted him with the facts of Herbert's disappearance."Now, what do you think of it?" he asked.
"Looks bad," said young Flannery, gravely.
"So it does to me."
"Foul play," suggested Tom.
"That's what I think."
"Perhaps he has got tired of New York and has lit out."
"No, not much. Vermont ain't no such boy."
"Well, you know him best. Did he have any grip or anything?"
"Yes, he had a good suit and lots of other truck."
"And they're in the room now?"
"Yes."
"You're in luck, Bob. I'd like a chum as would slope and leave me a goodsuit."
"Well, I wouldn't. No more would you, Tom Flannery," said Bob, slightlyindignant.
"I didn't mean nothin'," said Tom, apologizing for the offense which hesaw he had given. "Of course, I wouldn't want nobody to slope and leavehis truck with me."
"That's all right then, Tom," said Bob, forgivingly. "But now, what doyou s'pose has become of him?"
"Well, it looks like he didn't go of his own free will, when he lefteverything behind him."
"Of course it does, and I know he didn't."
Bob related the story of Herbert's experience at the bank, on themorning when he secured the position.
"I don't like that duffer--what d'ye call him?"
"Felix Mortimer," repeated Bob. "I'm sure that's the name Herbert giveme."
"Well, I'll bet that he's put up the job."
"I think so myself. You see he knew Randolph wasn't no city chap."
"That's so, and he knew he'd have the drop on him. But I don't just see,after all, how he could get away with him."
"Well, he might have run him into some den or other."
"And drugged him?"
"Well, perhaps so. There are piles of ways them fellers have of doin'such jobs."
"I know they're kinder slick about it sometimes. But, say, Bob,"continued Tom, earnestly, "what do you propose to do about it? He may bea prisoner."
"So he may, and probably is, if he is alive."
"Why, Bob, they wouldn't kill him, would they?"
"No, I don't suppose so, not if they didn't have to."
"Why would they have to do that?" asked Tom, with his eyes bulging outwith excitement.
"Well, sometimes folks has to do so--them hard tickets will do 'mostanything. You see, if they start in to make way with a feller, and theyare 'fraid he'll blow on 'em, and they can't make no other arrangement,why then they just fix him so he won't never blow on nobody."
"Bob, it's awful, ain't it?" said Tom, with a shudder.
"Yes, it is. There are a pile of tough gangs in this city that don'tcare what they do to a feller."
"What do you s'pose they've done with your chum?" asked young Flannery,returning to the subject.
"Well, that's just what I want to know," said Bob, seriously. "I amgoing to try to find out, too. There are tough dens in them crossstreets running out of the Bowery."
"They won't do worse nor keep him a prisoner, will they, Bob?"
"Probably they won't, not 'less they think he will blow on 'em. You seethey've got to look out for themselves."
"That's so, Bob, but why couldn't they send him off somewhere so hecouldn't blow on 'em?"
"They might do that, too."
"But they would get him so far away he couldn't get back to New Yorknever, I suppose?"
"Yes, that's the idea. They might run him off to sea, and put him on anisland, or somethin' like that. I can't say just what they might do ifthey have their own way. But the idea is this, Tom Flannery, _we muststop 'em_," said Bob, emphatically, "you and me. We've got to find outwhere he is, and rescue him."
"That's the boss idea, Bob," replied Tom, with emphasis. "But I don'tsee just how we're goin' to do it, do you?"
"Well, no, I can't see the whole game, not now. But we must commence,and when we get a few points, we can slide ahead faster."
"I wouldn't know how to commence."
"Well, I do; I thought that all out last night, and I'm only waitingtill ten o'clock. Then I'll steer for the bank where Herbert worked."
"Bob, you beat all the boys I know of," said Tom, eying him withadmiration. "None of 'em would ever think of doin' the things you do,and they couldn't do 'em if they did, that's all. And now you're goin'to do the detective act!"
Tom stopped short here with a jerk, as if he had got to the end of hisrope, and took a long breath. To "do the detective act" seemed to himthe greatest possible triumph for a boy like himself. He looked upon hiscompanion, therefore, with wonder and admiration.
Bob's plans for penetrating the mystery had, indeed, been carefullyformed. He fearlessly undertook an enterprise from which most boyswould have shrunk. This keen, bright street lad, however, was not of theshrinking kind. He did not turn away from encountering dangers, even thedangers of some dreadful den in which he feared our hero was now aprisoner.
TOM FLANNERY.]
During the forenoon he visited the banking house of Richard Goldwin andthere found Felix Mortimer already installed in Herbert's place. Thisdiscovery confirmed his worst fears and intensified his alarm for thesafety of his friend.
Boy Broker; Or, Among the Kings of Wall Street Page 10