CHAPTER VIII.
BREAD FROM THE WATERS.
The next day, worn out from loss of sleep, the young man started out
upon a last frenzied search for employment. He had no money for
breakfast, and so he went breakfastless, and as he had no carfare it was
necessary for him to walk the seemingly interminable miles from one
prospective job to another. By the middle of the afternoon Jimmy was
hungrier than he had ever been before in his life. He was so hungry that
it actually hurt, and he was weak from physical fatigue and from
disappointment and worry.
"I've got to eat," he soliloquized fiercely, "if I have to go out
to-night and pound somebody on the head to get the price, and I'm going
to do it," he concluded as the odors of cooking food came to him from a
cheap restaurant which he was passing. He stopped a moment and looked
into the window at the catsup bottles and sad-looking pies which the
proprietor apparently seemed to think formed an artistic and attractive
window display.
"If I had a brick," thought Jimmy, "I would have one of those pies, even
if I went to the jug for it," but his hunger had not made him as
desperate as he thought he was, and so he passed slowly on, and,
glancing into the windows of the store next door, saw a display of
second-hand clothes and the sign "Clothes Bought and Sold."
Jimmy looked at those in the window and then down at his own, which,
though wrinkled, were infinitely better than anything on display.
"I wonder," he mused, "if I couldn't put something over in the way of
high finance here," and, acting upon the inspiration, he entered the
dingy little shop. When he emerged twenty minutes later he wore a shabby
and rather disreputable suit of hand-me-downs, but he had two silver
dollars in his pocket.
When Jimmy returned to his room that night it was with a full stomach,
but with the knowledge that he had practically reached the end of his
rope. He had been unable to bring himself to the point of writing his
father an admission of his failure, and in fact he had gone so far, and
in his estimation had sunk so low, that he had definitely determined he
would rather starve to death now than admit his utter inefficiency to
those whose respect he most valued.
As he climbed the stairway to his room he heard some one descending from
above, and as they passed beneath the dim light of a flickering gas-jet
he realized that the other stopped suddenly and turned back to look
after him as Jimmy continued his ascent of the stairs; and then a low
voice inquired:
"Say, bo, what you doin' here?"
Jimmy turned toward the questioner.
"Oh!" he exclaimed as recognition of the other dawned slowly upon him.
"It's you, is it? My old and esteemed friend, the Lizard."
"Sure, it's me," replied the Lizard. "But what you doin' here? Looking
for an assistant general manager?"
Jimmy grinned.
"Don't rub it in," he said, still smiling.
The other ascended toward him, his keen eyes appraising him from head to
foot.
"You live here?" he asked.
"Yes," replied Jimmy; "do you?"
"Sure, I been livin' here for the last six months."
"That's funny," said Jimmy; "I have been here about two months myself."
"What's the matter with you?" asked the Lizard. "Didn't you like the
job as general manager?"
Jimmy flushed.
"Forget it," he admonished.
"Where's you room?" asked the Lizard.
"Up another flight," said Jimmy. "Won't you come up?"
"Sure," said the Lizard, and together the two ascended the stairs and
entered Jimmy's room. Under the brighter light there the Lizard
scrutinized his host.
"You been against it, bo, haven't you?" he asked.
"I sure have," said Jimmy.
"Gee," said the other, "what a difference clothes make! You look like a
regular bum."
"Thanks," said Jimmy.
"What you doin'?" asked the Lizard.
"Nothing."
"Lose your job?"
"I quit it," said Jimmy. "I've only worked a month since I've been
here, and that for the munificent salary of ten dollars a week."
"Do you want to make some coin?" asked the Lizard.
"I sure do," said Jimmy. "I don't know of anything 1 would rather
have."
"I'm pullin' off something to-morrow night. I can use you," and he eyed
Jimmy shrewdly as he spoke.
"Cracking a box?" asked Jimmy, grinning.
"It might be something like that," replied the Lizard; "but you won't
have nothin' to do but stand where I put you and make a noise like a cat
if you see anybody coming. It ought to be something good. I been working
on it for three months. We'll split something like fifty thousand
thirty-seventy."
"Is that the usual percentage?" asked Jimmy.
"It's what I'm offerin' you," replied the lizard.
Thirty per cent of fifty thousand dollars! Jimmy jingled the few pieces
of silver remaining in his pocket. Fifteen thousand dollars! And here he
had been walking his legs off and starving in a vain attempt to earn a
few paltry dollars honestly.
"There's something wrong somewhere," muttered Jimmy to himself.
"I'm taking it from an old crab who has more than he can use, and all of
it he got by robbing people that didn't have any to spare. He's a big
guy here. When anything big is doing the newspaper guys interview him
and his name is in all the lists of subscriptions to charity--when
they're going to be published in the papers. I'll bet he takes
nine-tenths of his kale from women and children, and he's an honored
citizen. I ain't no angel, but whatever I've taken didn't cause nobody
any sufferin'--I'm a thief, bo, and I'm mighty proud of it when I think
of what this other guy is."
Thirty per cent of fifty thousand dollars! Jimmy was sitting with his
legs crossed. He looked down at his ill-fitting, shabby trousers, and
then turned up the sole of one shoe which was worn through almost to his
sock. The Lizard watched him as a cat watches a mouse. He knew that the
other was thinking hard, and that presently he would reach a decision,
and through Jimmy's mind marched a sordid and hateful procession of
recent events--humiliation, rebuff, shame, poverty, hunger, and in the
background the face of his father and the face of a girl whose name,
even, he did not know.
Presently he looked up at the Lizard.
"Nothing doing, old top," he said. "But don't mistake the motives which
prompt me to refuse your glittering offer. I am moved by no moral
scruples, however humiliating such a confession should be. The way I
feel now I would almost as lief go out and rob widows and orphans
myself, but each of us, some time in our life, has to consider some one
who would probably rather see us dead than disgraced. I don't know
whether you get me or not."
"I get you," replied the Lizard, "and while you may never wear diamonds,
you'll get more pleasure out of life than I ever will, provided you
don't starve to death too soon. You know, I had a hunch you would turn
me down, and I'm glad you did. If you were going crooked some time I
thought I'd like to have you with me. When it comes to men, I'm a pretty
good picker. That's the reason I have kept out of jail so long. I either
pick a square one or I work alone."
"Thanks," said Jimmy, "but how do you know that after you pull this job
I won't tip off the police and claim the reward."
The Lizard grinned his lip grin.
"There ain't one chance in a million," he said. "You'd starve to death
before you'd do it. And now, what you want is a job. I can probably get
you one if you ain't too particular." "I'd do anything," said Jimmy,
"that I could do and still look a policeman in the face."
"All right," said the Lizard. "When I come back I'll bring you a job of
some sort. I may be back to-night, and I may not be back again for a
month, and in the mean time you got to live."
He drew a roll of bills from his pocket and commenced to count out
several.
"Hold on! "cried Jimmy. "Once again, nothing doing."
"Forget it," admonished the Lizard. "I'm just payin' back the twenty
you loaned me."
"But I didn't loan it to you," said Jimmy; "I gave it to you as a reward
for finding my watch."
The Lizard laughed and shoved the money across the table.
"Take it," he said; "don't be a damn fool. And now so-long! I may
bring you home a job to-night, but if I don't you've got enough to live
on for a couple of weeks."
After the Lizard had gone Jimmy sat looking at the twenty dollars for a
long time.
"That fellow may be a thief," he soliloquized, "but whatever he is he's
white. Just imagine, the only friend I've got in Chicago is a
safe-blower."
