Can you
reel 'em off a few yards?"
"Certainly, Donahue," said the young man, pleasantly. "Good
evening, gentlemen," he said to us, with a pleasant smile. Donahue
walked off on his beat.
"This is the goods," whispered Rivington, nudging me with his elbow.
"Look at his jaw!"
"Say, cull," said Rivington, pushing back his hat, "wot's doin'?
Me and my friend's taking a look down de old line--see? De copper
tipped us off dat you was wise to de bowery. Is dat right?"
I could not help admiring Rivington's power of adapting himself to
his surroundings.
"Donahue was right," said the young man, frankly; "I was brought up
on the Bowery. I have been news-boy, teamster, pugilist, member of
an organized band of 'toughs,' bartender, and a 'sport' in various
meanings of the word. The experience certainly warrants the
supposition that I have at least a passing acquaintance with a few
phases of Bowery life. I will be pleased to place whatever knowledge
and experience I have at the service of my friend Donahue's friends."
Rivington seemed ill at ease.
"I say," he said--somewhat entreatingly, "I thought--you're not
stringing us, are you? It isn't just the kind of talk we expected.
You haven't even said 'Hully gee!' once. Do you really belong on the
Bowery?"
"I am afraid," said the Bowery boy, smilingly, "that at some time you
have been enticed into one of the dives of literature and had the
counterfeit coin of the Bowery passed upon you.
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