"I want it back."
"No, it wasn't, mister," the boy answered. "It was a cent, nothing but a
cent."
"I know better, you little thief! Give me that gold piece, or I'll call
a policeman." And again the big youth shook the ragged newsboy, causing
the papers to fall to the sidewalk.
"Why, it's Link Merwell!" murmured Dave to himself, and he stepped in
the direction of the pair who were disputing. Merwell had his back to
Dave and did not see him.
"Are you going to give me my gold piece or not?" demanded Link Merwell,
and now he gave the newsboy such a twist of the shoulder that the ragged
lad cried out with pain.
"I don't know anything about your gold piece!" cried the boy for at
least the tenth time. "Let me go, please, mister! I ain't no thief!"
"I'll twist your little neck off for you!" muttered Merwell, and was on
the point of hitting the boy in the face when Dave stepped up behind him
and caught his arm.
"Don't you know better than to hit a little chap like this, Merwell?" he
demanded.
"Porter!" muttered the western youth, and his face took on a sour look.
"Say, this ain't none of your affair!" he burst out. "You keep your
hands off."
"Please don't let him hurt me!" pleaded the ragged newsboy. "I didn't do
wrong, mister.
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