The Dock Rats of New York

The words fell from beautiful lips under the most exciting circumstances.

A boat rocked upon the calm water that murmured along the shore when a young man came down from the upper bank of white drift sand and seized the tiller rope. He had the rope in his hand, his arm was upraised to draw the boat to his feet when he was startled by hearing the words with which we opened our narrative.

The young man turned toward the speaker and encountered a sight that caused his handsome eyes to bulge with amazement.

It was a clear, cloudless night, and a half moon shed its diminished radiance on surrounding objects and revealed to the astonished gaze of the young man the weird-appearing figure of a young girl.

One glance was sufficient to announce the fact that the girl was beautiful, but alas! in what questionable shape did she appear? She was attired in a loose gown tightened about the waist with a leather belt, her feet were bare, and her long hair hung unkempt upon her shoulders.

As our old-time readers know, we are not heavy on the beauty-describing business, and we will merely declare that the girl was indeed a lovely creature, clad in rags; but she was beautiful, and Spencer Vance, the young man, discerned the fact at a glance, and his amazement was the greater because of the thrilling conditions under which re beheld so great loveliness.

The young man made no immediate answer to the girl’s abrupt salutation, but merely stood and gazed at her without any attempt to conceal his utter astonishment.

“You must not go off in the yacht tonight!” said the girl.

“Why must I stay ashore tonight?”

“Danger is ahead of you!”

“But I am an old sailor, miss; I can take care of myself, I reckon.”

The girl drew close to the young man, laid her hand upon his arm, and in a husky voice, whispered:

“The danger comes not from the sea! You will be a victim!”