At some risk of losing his hold he balanced himself in order toaccomplish his wish.
He saw a room, unclean and unwholesome. The men seemed to be of thediscarded of the street, the diseased and maimed of the financialdistrict; here and there was a younger, smarter type, the kind thatmakes the gangster, the pickpocket and worse. He also saw Tom sittingquietly yet alert. At his elbow was a young man, somewhat older thanTom. On the wall facing the window was a great blackboard, and as theticker spelled out its information, and the slovenly dressed clerk gaveit voice, a second clerk chalked away without cessation.
Beyond this clerk's announcements everything was quiet. Bill felthimself slipping, so he silently swung back to his former position. Thelight of understanding was in his eyes.
"By Jove, it's a bucket shop!"
Now a bucket shop is where people buy and sell stock on less margin orin smaller quantity than is accepted on the curb on Broad Street or onthe Stock Exchange. These establishments, too, are fast disappearing,though as is always possible in New York, an exception--as in alldirections of semi-organized crime--manages to keep from the sharptalons of the law for a longer period of time.
The bucket shops were where messenger boys and clerks gamboled with DameFortune. Sooner or later they lost--lost not only every cent to theirnames, but much of their self-respect and honesty. It was also the placefor the men who had gone down to defeat in the great battle foughtbitterly every minute of the day in the great financial arena. These menwere unfit for everything else, so they turned to the bucket shops as adrowning man grasps at a straw. But we have digressed enough--thoughthis was really necessary--and let us continue with the narrative.
Bill did not know what to make of it all.
Surely Tom Jukes had little need to play for stakes. His father wassufficiently wealthy and knew the great money game, and its pitfalls,not to have acquainted his son with them. The more Bill thought, themore puzzled he became.
Suddenly he heard Tom shout:
"You robber, you thief!"
"Git out," bawled the voice, evidently that of the proprietor, "or I'llhave you put out!"
"You do, and I'll have you in the hands of the police within twenty-fourhours!"
"You will, will you?" came the snarling challenge, followed by a generalcommotion.
"Here's where I take a hand!" decided Bill, and leaped into the room,now in fearful confusion.
"Stop!" cried Bill, drawing his revolver, which he had a special permitto carry at any time he wished, "or I'll fire!"
His command was obeyed.
"Stand where you are!" Bill demanded, noting a suspicious movement onthe part of several to escape.
"Bill, good old Bill!" exclaimed Tom, overjoyed.
"Yes, it's Bill," was the reply. "Call up Headquarters while I hold themin line."
"That's your tip, Fred," said Tom, turning to the young man Bill hadnoticed before. "On the run now!"
The young man called Fred seemed to need no further invitation.
Tom now joined Bill. From one of the drawers of the desk at which theproprietor had been seated, Tom brought to light an ugly-looking Colt.
"Let's move 'em toward the rear!" suggested Tom. "Some of 'em areshowing signs of restlessness."
"All right!" acquiesced Bill.
So, at the point of the revolvers, everyone in the room was lined upagainst the rear wall. The older men, who had seen better days, appearedindifferent to it all. To them life meant very little. Spirit, youth,ambition, success had long passed them by. They still clung to the vainhope of winning something out of sheer habit. Stock gambling, likeopium, oftentimes urges on its victim until the sands of life slowly ebbaway. The younger no-accounts scowled darkly. But what could they do?Those two lads were too business-like to attempt anything rash.
"Say," growled the proprietor, addressing Tom, "can't we call thisquits?"
"Nothing doing!" was the curt reply, both boys at once becoming morealert that ever.
"Aw, take a joke," pleaded the man. "I'll square it with you. Honest Iwill."
Both boys remained silent.
"I'll tell you what," continued the owner, "just to square myself, I'llthrow in one hundred dollars."
Silence.
"Five hundred!"
"You're going out of business," announced Tom. "Save your breath!"
"One thousand dollars!"
"One more word," warned Bill, "and I won't be responsible for my action.Keep still."
Defeated, the man depicted his silent disdain.
A moment later Fred and the police arrived. The police captain in chargewanted the boys to go along to press the charge, but Tom, upon quicklysatisfying the officer of their intentions of doing so the nextday--especially establishing that Tom was the son of Jacob Jukes, themultimillionaire--were at liberty to proceed as they pleased.
"Explanations are now in order."
"Correct," replied Tom. "Let me first introduce Fred Strong, an old-timefriend of mine. Bill Raynor, one of the finest boys in the world!"
The introduction was acknowledged with appropriate remarks. Tom thenunfolded a most interesting story. Fred was a Wall Street clerk--and,like many others, dabbled in stocks. He kept on losing. So, desperate,he attempted to court luck at the bucket shop a friend of his had toldhim of. For a time he won. His hopes rose. Then the inevitable reversesbegan. The proprietor meanwhile had studied his victim. Fred, withoutrealizing it, became one of his dupes. He loaned money from every one.He began to tamper with his books. Disgrace stared him in the face whenhe met Tom. A few hours had straightened out all tangles. Tom, however,insisted on bringing the bucket shop keeper to book.
"Well, that's all to it!" interspersed Tom.
"Hold on," expostulated Bill, "why did you sneak along the street as ifwishing to be unrecognized?"
"Easy," replied Tom. "Saw dad, across the street, so had to--as yousay--_sneak_."
"_Phew!_" whistled Bill, astonished. "I never saw him. One other point,how did you know the revolver was in that desk?"
"It seems," answered Tom, "that the bucket shop proprietor made it apractice to show new customers that weapon. I suppose it was aneffective reminder that all disagreements might be settled ratherabruptly."
"Well," chimed in Fred, "let us forget about it. I'll never play themarket again. But, boys, I want you to come with me. I have to tell thisstory to the sweetest girl in town. You've got to meet her!"
"If you insist, lead on," replied Tom. "But suppose you tell her thetruth of the matter, and then,--well--I guess Bill and I will behonored, I'm sure!"
Bill laughed outright.
"I never suspected," he said, "you had so much of the so-called 'societysass'."
Tom chuckled with glee. He was highly satisfied with the first day'sadventure in America. In excellent spirits, the trio rode uptown. Whileen route Bill briefly told, in turn, of catching sight of Tom, and theconsequences thereof.
An hour later Fred brought them to a neatly nestled house. There was ahand-ball court on the property, and Fred saw to it that they were madeto feel at home. Then he entered the house.
"Elsie," said Fred, when first greetings were over and they werecomfortably settled, "I've something to tell you."
"What is it, Fred?"
"I--I couldn't buy you the engagement ring--be--because I lost themoney."
"That is _too_ bad! But don't mind it, dear. I can wait."
"It's nice of you to say it, but I lost the money on stocks."
"Tell me about it," she requested calmly, though there was a break inher voice.
So Fred related the facts already familiar to us. Nor did he sparehimself in the recital. At its conclusion, there was a moment's silence.Then----
"Fred," said the girl softly, "I'm glad you told me of this. Please,Fred, don't gamble again--whether it be on cards or stocks--and if youwere younger--I'd add buttons and marbles."
"I've already promised not to do so--but Elsie, I have something else totell you. I have a new
position at a higher salary--thirty dollars aweek."
"That's great!"
"It'll be more--if I make good."
"Fred, I'm _so_ glad."
A pause.
"The cost of living is very high now," asked Fred--"isn't it?"
"I should say so! Diamonds will soon be cheaper than onions or potatoesor cut sugar."
"Elsie!"
"Yes?"
"Would you like--could you--I mean--er--do you think two persons couldlive on thirty dollars a week?"
"_Certainly!_"
"How about _us_?"
"Oh, George!"
"Elsie!"
A blissful interval. Then--
"Elsie--I've completely forgotten! Those two boys I told you of areplaying handball. They insisted that I confess my crimes before you metthem!"
A moment later Fred was introducing Tom and Bill to Elsie. The younglady's form of greeting was most unexpected and unconventional. Beforeeither of the boys could surmise her intention, she had kissed them!
Of course general laughter and banter followed. Of this let us say nomore.
The reader, however, may rest assured that the boys whose adventures wehave followed through six volumes were always true to American idealsand aspirations. They participated in many strange and thrillingadventures. We may write of these in the near future, but for the timebeing, with every good wish for the bright future that appears assuredto them, we will bid farewell to the Ocean Wireless Boys.
THE END.
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Transcriber's Notes:
1. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. 2. Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation in the original document have been preserved. 3. Underscores indicate text originally in printed in italics.
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