The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 154: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

140 The reporter sparred for time. ‘““Er—can you change a five-dollar bill?” he asked. The lad transferred his bundle of papers from one arm to the other. He dug deep in his pocket. “That the smallest you got?” he said, a trace of vexation in his tone. “The very smallest.” ‘Well, fork her over.” Lewis cleared his throat. That sub- terfuge had failed to avail him any- thing. “How much do you want for: the paper?” he inquired. ‘“A nickel,” said the boy. He said it doggedly. And this gave the re- porter hiscue. — “Five cents!” he repeated, muster- ing a scowl. “ Why, this is a game you're working. A bunco game. This paper is plainly marked ‘ price one cent’ —do you think I’m blind, and can’t see that? And yet you've got the nerve to ask a nickel for it!” | The lad drew back. He dropped his eyes, and let them shift guiltily along the ground. “Tt’s a hold-up!” went on Lewis in- dignantly. “By George, it’s about time there was a stop put to the swindle you fellows work on the public every chance you get—whenever there’s any- thing of special interest running in the papers. You take advantage of the general curiosity concerning this or that important case. You run through the streets, bawling and shouting, fool- ing people into thinking you've got something new to report, when nine times out of ten there isn't a particle of fresh news in the stale papers you're trying to palm off at five times their face value—”’ Jerking the brim of his cap down over his eyes, the boy took a fresh hold on the stack of newspapers under his arm as though about to make off. “Give us back that paper,” he re- iterated, holding out his hand. “ You're a wise guy, ain't you? Kick all you want. I ain’t asked you to gimme a nickel for it, if you don’t want it.” THE ARGOSY. Now it was Lewis’s turn to take a backward step. With tightened grip, he still held the open sheet in his hands. “TI ought to call a cop and have you run in,” he said. Sternly he searched the other’s face, hoping to see an ex- pression of apprehension appear on it, predicting flight. “‘ That’s what I've a good mind to do. Get a policeman and have you locked up. I could do it on two charges—disturbing the peace, and trying to obtain money under false pre- tenses. Do you know that I could have you arrested as easy as winking? ” The newsboy shrugged. “Gwan!” said he. “ You gimme back that paper, and gimme it back quick. I ain’t afraid of no cop, or you neither—you nervy buttinsky! ” Lewis made a threatening move for- ward. “How dare you talk that way to me?” he demanded. The youth hastily stepped back. “Now, you be off!” the reporter ordered. He simulated a righteous in- dignation to cover his satisfaction over having discovered what he believed to be an easy way out of this. “JI won't pay you so much as a penny for the paper. And, what’s more, I won’t give it back. Ill keep it to serve you for your impertinence—and to prove that somebody sometime got the better of one of you news pirates. Get out, now, before I lay hands on you!”’ But ‘the newsboy stood his ground. Brought up in the streets, he had no overburdening respect for his elders, apparently. He spoke out of the cor- ner of his mouth: “Come on! You're goin’ to start somethin’. Well, let’s see you com- mence, you cheap skate—you grafter! Think I’m afraid of you? Well, I ain’t. Come on—start somethin’!”’ Lewis surveyed the belligerent fig- ure before him. This tack was hope- less. He would have to begin on an- other. But—what other? What pos- sible excuse could he now make to hang on to that paper any longer? “Come on!” the youth invited. “ ’m oO cComicbooks CO