"I don't know," replied Richard doubtfully. "I wish you could come
along."
"I would, only--" and the urchin pointed to the mattress. "Go ahead,"
put in Frank. "I'll tend to him while you are gone, I don't think I'll
have any trouble."
"Dad gets mighty cranky sometimes," returned Pep, with a doubtful shake
of his head.
"Never mind; I'll manage it. You won't be gone over an hour, I guess,"
added the stock-clerk to Richard.
"I think not; that is, if we can find Doc Linyard. His place is no
doubt shut up and he may be away."
A moment later Richard, accompanied by Pep, went down into the court
and made their way to the street beyond. The urchin was all eager
expectation, and if it had not been for Richard, for whom it was hard
work to keep up as it was, he would have run the entire way.
In a few minutes they were down on the Bowery, and passing Park Row,
the only lively spot in lower New York on Sunday, they crossed Fulton
Street and so on down to West.
As Richard had anticipated, the Watch Below was closed. Doc Linyard
did not keep his place open on Sunday, excepting for an hour or two
early in the morning.
"I'll have to see if I can knock him up," he said to Pep.
And raising his foot he kicked several times on the lower portion of
the door.
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