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Van Quintem and that fine old gentleman had patted him on the back, and told him that there was genuine Dutch blood in him. Bogert & Co. now employed a hundred lads; and Bog's department of labor was the general planning of operations, and the receiving and disbursement of the money and a very nice and agreeable department it was.
Bog's eyes were instantly turned toward her with an expression of pride and gratitude. "Oh! of course, it is always best to obey the laws," observed Mr. Minford. "And I wouldn't for a moment be thought to advise anything else," added Marcus Wilkeson; "though I never could help admiring pluck and sharpness in business affairs."
Besides whipping him for the insults which he might offer, Bog felt that he could give him a few good blows for his impudence in assuming Bog's exclusive prerogative of rescuing that particular young girl.
This they called their heavy business. Carrying the huge damp placards, had already given to Bog's shoulders a manifest tendency to roundness, which he was constantly trying to overcome by straightening up. Fink, who was the veteran bill poster of the town, was as round shouldered as a hod carrier. But Bog thought of somebody, and stood as nearly erect as he could.
Nor did he give more than a sweeping glance at the dotted line of lights below, stretching out in long perspectives, until the two luminous points at the end seemed blended into one. There were several parks in sight, which looked like portions of the sky let down on the earth, in all but the mathematical regularity of their mock stars. But Bog's eyes passed them by.
Bill Fish snatched the notes from Bog's hand, and ran down the street after a stage which had just left the ferry house on its down trip. Bog saw him seat himself on the step, with his head well hid from the driver, and sent a parting whistle after him, to which Bill Fish responded with an enormous grin and a jerk of thumb over shoulder at his natural enemy on the box.
After Pet had looked at all the objects of interest visible from the bell tower Uncle Ith pointing them out with the pride of an owner Bog called Pet aside, and said, "Now, Uncle Ith, I have something to show her that I used to think most interesting of all." Pet rested her hand upon his arm, and gazed through the southeastern window, in the direction indicated by Bog's forefinger.
Then he nodded to Miss Minford, as if to excuse himself for a moment, and, darting out of the shop, walked rapidly to the street below, and then to the one above, passing Bog's hiding place on that side of the street, and causing that youth to remove his eye from the keyhole for fear of detection.
Bog read well now, and had learned to love those repositories of wit and wisdom with almost as keen a relish as the venerable white-headed listener. This was another bond of affection between the old gentleman and himself. At Bog's entrance. Pet looked up, and showed the sparkling tears in her eyes. A deep shade of anxiety passed over the young man's face, and he looked around for an explanation.
Uncle Ith was a little eccentric, too, in his devotion to duty. "It's me, uncle," said Bog, screaming upward. "Glad to see you, Bog. You can come up," shouted the old man in return. He slung a latch key, fastened to a string, out of the window. It slid down the side of the tower, into Bog's hand. He unlocked the door, and the next moment the key was jerked aloft.
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