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To Jerry surprise, the rascal offered no resistance. Instead, he came down the steps backward, and fell on his back on the sidewalk, his hat rolling toward the gutter.
"Shay, waz you do that fer?" he hiccoughed.
Jerry gazed at the pickpocket in wonder. Then the truth flashed over our hero. The man who had robbed him was beastly intoxicated.
CHAPTER x.x.x.
AN UNLOOKED FOR ADVENTURE.
It would be hard to express Jerry's feelings when he found Mr. Wakefield Smith was suffering heavily from intoxication. For the moment he could do nothing but stare at the man as he lay helpless on the pavement.
"Waz you mean, boy?" went on Smith, and he tried in vain to get up. "Waz you knock me down for, I demand to know?"
"Do you recognize me?" said our hero sharply, as he looked the pickpocket squarely in the face.
"No--don't know you from Adam, 'pon my word."
"I am Jerry Upton, the boy you robbed the other night."
At the words Smith straightened up for a moment and a look of alarm crossed his face.
"Jerry Upton," he repeated, slowly.
"Yes. What have you done with my money?"
"Ain't got a dollar of your money."
"If you haven't, you've drank it up," Jerry e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."
"Zat's all right, m'boy, all right, I a.s.sure you. Come on and have a good time with me."
With great difficulty Wakefield Smith arose to his feet and staggered towards the house he had been on the point of entering. Jerry pulled him back and held him. As our hero did this he saw Smith drop a ten-dollar bill. Jerry picked it up.
"You are not going in there--you are going with me."
"Where to?"
"To the nearest station house."
The pickpocket gave a hiccough and a cry of alarm that was very much like a whine.
"To the station house?"
"Yes; come on."
"Never."
Smith struggled feebly to get away, but the boy held him with ease.
Overcome, the man finally sat down on the curbstone and refused to budge.
"Shay, let us compromise," he mumbled. "It was all a mistake."
"It was no mistake."
"If I give you ten dollars, will you call it off?"
"No."
"Then you don't git a cent, see?"
And with great deliberation the pickpocket closed one bleared eye and glared at Jerry.
"We'll see about that later," cried our hero, hotly, and catching the rascal by the collar the youth yanked him to a standing position. "Now come on, and no nonsense."
Seeing that the youth was not to be fooled with, Wakefield Smith tried to d.i.c.ker again, getting himself badly twisted in his plea that he would make everything all right. Jerry would not trust him and forced him to walk along until the nearest corner was reached. Here he suddenly made a clutch at an electric-light pole and held fast.
"Help! help! help!" he cried out at the top of his lungs. "Police!"
The young oarsman did not know what to make of this appeal for a.s.sistance, for it seemed to him that the authorities were the very people Mr.
Wakefield Smith wished to avoid. He was destined, however to soon learn a trick that was brand new to him.
The pickpocket had hardly uttered his cry when a bluecoat put into appearance and came running to the spot.
"What's the trouble here?" he demanded.
"Shay, officer, make that young fellow go away," hiccoughed Mr. Wakefield Smith.
"What is he up to?"
"Trying to rob me, officer; reg'lar slick Aleck."
At this cool a.s.sertion Jerry was dumbfounded.
"So you're trying to rob this gent, eh?" said the bluecoat, turning to our hero and catching his arm. "I reckon I came just in time."
"It's a falsehood; he is the pickpocket," rejoined Jerry as soon as he could speak.
"He looks like it," said the officer, sarcastically.
"He didn't rob me now, he robbed several nights ago. I just ran across him."
"He's a slick Aleck," went on Mr. Wakefield Smith. "Don't let him take my watch, officer!"
"No fear of that. Come along with me, young man."