Joe the Hotel Boy; Or, Winning out by Pluck, Pluck by Jr. Horatio Alger [ereader android txt] 📗
- Author: Pluck by Jr. Horatio Alger
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“I'll fix dat pill,” he said to one of his chums. “He ain't going to do me out of my job an' not suffer fer it.”
“What are you going to do, Jack?” asked the companion.
“I'll mash him, dat's wot I'll do,” answered Jack Sagger.
He was a big, rawboned lad, several inches taller than Joe. His face was freckled, and his lips discolored by cigarette smoking. He was a thoroughly tough boy and it was a wonder that he had ever been allowed to work in the hotel at all. He had a fairly good home, but only went there to sleep and to get his meals.
“Joe, I hear that Jack Sagger is going to make it warm for you,” said Frank, one Monday afternoon.
“I suppose he is angry because I got his position, is that it?”
“Yes.”
“What is he going to do?”
“I don't know exactly, but he'll hurt you if he can.”
“If he attacks me I'll do what I can to take care of myself,” answered our hero.
That afternoon he was sent out by Mr. Drew on an errand that took him to a neighborhood occupied largely by wholesale provision houses. As Joe left the hotel Jack Sagger saw him.
“Dere's dat country jay now,” said Sagger.
“Now's your time to git square on him, Jack,” said Nick Sammel, his crony.
“Right you are, Nick. Come on.”
“Going to follow him?”
“Yes, till I git him where I want him.”
“Going to mash him?”
“Sure. When I git through wid him his own mother won't know him,” went on Jack Sagger, boastfully.
“Maybe he'll git the cops after you, Jack.”
“I'll watch out fer dat, Nick, an' you must watch out too,” answered Jack Sagger.
“Are you sure you kin best him? He looks putty strong.”
“Huh! Can't I fight? Didn't I best Sam Nolan, and Jerry Dibble?”
“That's right, Jack.”
“Just let me git one chanct at him an' he'll run away, you see if he don't. But he shan't git away until I give him a black eye an' knock out a couple of his front teeth fer him,” concluded the boaster.
CHAPTER XVIII.
JOE SHOWS HIS MUSCLE.
All unconscious that he was being followed, our hero went on his errand to a wholesale provision house that supplied the Grandon Hotel with meats and poultry. He felt in good spirits and so whistled lightly as he walked.
Arriving at the place of business he transacted his errand as speedily as possible and then started to return to the hotel.
He was just passing the entrance to a factory yard when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and wheeling around found himself confronted by Jack Sagger, Nick Sammel, and half a dozen others, who had gathered to see their leader “polish off” the country boy.
“What do you want?” demanded Joe, sharply.
“You know well enough wot I want, country!” exclaimed Jack Sagger.
“I do not.”
“You took my job away from me, an' I'm goin' to pay you fer doing it.”
“Mr. Drew had a perfect right to discharge you, Jack Sagger. He said you were impudent and he didn't want you around any more.”
“You can't preach to me, country! Do you know wot I'm goin' ter do?”
“No.”
“I'm going to make you promise to leave dat job. Will yer promise?”
“No.”
“Den you have got to fight,” and Jack Sagger began to pull up his rather dirty coat sleeves.
“Supposing I don't want to fight?” went on our hero, as calmly as he could.
“Yer got ter do it, country—or else make dat promise.”
“I'll make no promise to you.”
“Den take dat!”
As Jack Sagger uttered the last words he launched a blow at Joe's nose. But our hero ducked and the blow went wide of its mark.
“Give it to him, Jack!”
“Show him what you can do!”
“Keep off,” came from Joe. “If you don't, you'll get hurt!”
“Hear dat now! Jack, pitch in, quick, before anybody comes!”
Thus urged Jack Sagger struck out once more, landing on Joe's chest. Then our hero drew back and sent in a blow with all his force. It took the other boy squarely on the chin and sent him staggering against a friend.
If ever there was a surprised boy that boy was Jack Sagger. He had expected that to “polish off” Joe would be easy and he had not anticipated such a defense as had been made. He righted himself and gazed stupidly at our hero.
“Wot did yer hit me fer?” he gasped.
“You keep off or I'll hit you again,” answered Joe.
There was a pause and Sagger sprang forward, trying to catch Joe around the arms. But our hero was too quick for him and ducked once more. Then he hit the bully in the ear and gave him another blow in the left eye.
“Ouch!” roared Jack Sagger. “Don't! Oh, my eye!”
“Have you had enough?” demanded Joe, who was commencing to warm up.
“Pitch in, fellers!” came from Jack Sagger. “Throw him down!”
“Ain't you going to do it alone?” queried Nick Sammel, in wonder, not unmingled with a suspicion that Joe would not be as easy to handle as anticipated.
“I—I've got a—a heartburn,” came lamely from Sagger. “It come on me all at onct. If it wasn't fer that I'd do him up all alone.”
“You're a fraud, and you haven't any heart-burn!” cried Joe. “You're afraid, that's all. If you want to fight, stand up, and we'll have it out.”
“Don't you call me afraid,” said Sagger, but his voice had lost much of its bullying tone.
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