Randy of the River by Jr. Horatio Alger

Author:Jr. Horatio Alger [Alger, Jr. Horatio]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9783956768415
Publisher: Otbebookpublishing
Published: 2017-04-25T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER XVI

IN NEW YORK CITY

"Will he live, mamma?"

"I think so, Rose. But he has been badly misused."

"Bill Hosker ought to be locked up for it."

"Nobody will lock Bill up. He has too much influence with the politicians," answered the woman.

She was bending over Randy, who was still unconscious. Mother and daughter had carried our hero from the yard to their room in the rear of the tenement. Nobody else had been around. The girl had witnessed Bill Hosker's nefarious deed and had at once summoned her parent.

Mrs. Clare was a poor widow lady who supported herself by sewing. Rose was her only child and did what she could to help her mother. Sewing did not pay well, and the Clares had all they could do to make both ends meet.

But Mrs. Clare had a warm heart and so had Rose, and it pained them greatly to see Randy so mistreated. They carried him into their one room and placed him on their bed and did what they could for him.

At last he opened his eyes and stared around him. Then he sat up slowly.

"Where am I?" he asked, faintly.

"We brought you into the house—mother and I," answered Rose. "Don't you remember, Bill Hosker struck you down?"

"Oh, yes; I remember that now." Randy took a deep breath and put his hand to his head. "He hit me pretty hard, didn't he?"

"I am afraid he did," answered Mrs. Clare. "It was a shame, too."

"Where is he now?"

"He ran away."

"He stole eighty cents from me."

"Perhaps he took more," said Rose. "He went through your pockets after he knocked you down. I saw him do it."

With his head still aching, our hero felt in first one pocket and then another. He gave something like a groan.

"Every cent is gone!"

"How much did you have?"

"Between four and five dollars."

"I am sorry for you," said Mrs. Clare. "But I am afraid you will never see your money again."

"Does that rascal live around here?"

"Sometimes. He comes and goes to suit himself. I suppose he will stay away now for a while."

"Is there any use of my reporting this to the police, do you think?"

"I don't think so. He once took my pocket-book from the table here—I am sure of it—but when I reported it to the police nothing was done. They said his word was as good as mine."

"How long have I been here?"

"About half an hour."

"Then he has had a good chance to get away. Did you bring me here?"

"Yes."

"You are very kind, Mrs. ——"

"I am Mrs. Clare and this is my daughter Rose."

"And I am Randy Thompson, a deckhand on the Hudson River steamboat Helen Shalley."

"Oh!" Mrs. Clare paused for a moment. "Do you know Mr. Polk, the purser?"

"Yes, but not very well. I just got the job as a deckhand to-day."

"Mr. Polk is a relative of mine by marriage."

"I see."

"We—that is—well, we are not very good friends," went on Mrs. Clare.

"Mamma thinks Mr. Polk hasn't been honest with us," put in Rose, quickly. "I don't think so either.

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