Chapter 3
"What's yer name by the way?" the guy sitting opposite Jack asked as the wagon wheels hit the holes and ruts in the road. The journey was long and hot, making stops at different towns, picking up new boys as they went.
"Jack. What about you?"
"Me names
Mark but back in New York they called me Trick, and they call me that heah
sometimes. Whatcha do in New York?"
"I was a newsie."
"No kiddin'. That was me job, I worked a little before ya time I guess." The feeling of already knowing Trick played once again in Jack's head. It could have just been a coincidence that they were both from New York, but to be newsies there had to be some connection. He repeated the name Trick over and over again in his head, trying to conjure up an image of where he might know him from. "Maybe you know some of de boys…is Conlon still reakin havok ovah in Brooklyn?"
"Of course! You knew ol' Spot? He's one of me buddies."
"Yea, I had a bunch of little newsies under my care when I worked dere. Spot was one o' dem, and there were a couple others. Race, Jake, some kid named Francis that wanted ta be jus' like me! Heh, I wondah whatever happened ta him." That was it…it was Trick, the true and original cowboy of the Manhattan Newsies.
"No kiddin, Francis Sullivan ya say? Well yer lookin' at 'em!"
"Nah…you'se said yer name was Jack!"
"Yeah, Jack Kelly, I changed it when I gots into some trouble with Snyder, no big deal, but I still had ta change it." The two old friends talked about old times, what they had been up to over the years until the wagon stopped and they were told to get out.