"Ah, there, Dodger!"

Dodger, who had been busily and successfully selling evening papers in
front of the Astor House, turned quickly as he heard his name called.

His glance rested on two men, dressed in soiled white hats and shabby
suits, who were apparently holding each other up, having both been
imbibing.

He at once recognized Hooker and Briggs, for he had waited upon them
too many times in Tim's saloon not to recognize them.

"Well," he said, cautiously, "what do you want?"

"Tim has sent us for you!" answered the two, in unison.

"What does he want of me?"

"He wants you to come home. He says he can't get along without you."

"He will have to get along without me," said the boy, independently.
"Tell him I'm not goin' back!"

"You're wrong, Dodger," said Hooker, shaking his head, solemnly.
"Ain't he your father?"

"No, he ain't."

"He says he is," continued Hooker, looking puzzled.