The Third Alarm: A Story of the New York Fire DepartmentFord, James L. (James Lauren)
General
The Third Alarm: A Story of the New York Fire Department
Ford, James L. (James Lauren)
Fire fighters -- New York (State) -- New York -- Juvenile fiction; New York (N.Y.). Fire Department -- Juvenile fiction
“All right then,” continued the other. “Take this paper and listen to
what I tell you. Go up to the village of Rocky Point and try to get work
there with some farmer or shopkeeper. That’s just for a blind, you know,
so that nobody will guess that you’ve come up there all the way from New
York. Perhaps it would be better for you to stop off the train at some
other village and walk in on foot. As soon as you get a chance, take a
walk out to the cemetery and look around for a grave marked Decker. I
think it’s the grave of Mary Decker. When you find it, copy the
inscription, every word of it, mind, dates and all, and stick it away
somewhere where nobody will find it. Then see if there are any other
graves in the same plot with the same name. See if there is the grave of
a young boy, the son of this Mary Decker there, and if there is a grave
without any headstone over it, find out who lies buried there. If there
is no other grave, find out from some of the village folks whether this
Mary Decker left any children, and if so what has become of them. It may
take you a week, or it may take you only a day to do all this, but as
soon as you get the information, come back to me and let me know about
it. Here is money enough for your fare and other expenses, and perhaps
you had better write me a letter as soon as you get settled there. Here
is my address, Robert J. Korwein,—Eldridge Street.”
Skinny had listened with close attention to all that had been said to
him and now, taking the paper with the different names marked on it, he
carefully went over it, making a few scratches of his own from time to
time which should serve him as memoranda. Then without a word, he took
the roll of bills which lay on the table before him, counted them
carefully and hid them away in the inner pocket of his ragged jacket.
“I understand, boss,” he simply said, “wot time does de train start?”
“To-night at eight,” was the reply, “here’s a time table and remember to
change cars at Syracuse for Oswego. There you will take another train
for Rocky Point. Be careful not to attract any attention or set those
village fools to gossiping and cackling. Above all, don’t let anybody
find out that I sent you, or that there’s anybody alive who takes any
interest in the grave of Mary Decker or in the whereabouts of her son.
If you get through this trip all right and find out what I want to know,
I’ll give you more money than you ever had before in your life.”
“Dere won’t be no slip-up, nor funny business wid me, boss,” said Skinny
as he buttoned his coat over the roll of greenbacks. “I’ll git you dere
names and all and I’ll probably write yer in two or tree days.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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