Dutchy was free. Finally, after eleven long years of secret fears, he was free. He couldn't explain it; after all, it weren't as though he'd actually been absolved for anything at all by his family. All he knew was that as Jack and Race followed him back to the Lodging House, shooting strange glances at both him and each other, he felt as though an enormous, crushing burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Had he not been so exhausted and so worried about Bumlets, he could have skipped. As it was, he walked, but there was a definite spring in his step that both Jack and Racetrack knew that they hadn't seen there before.

Finally, Race quickened his step to walk side-by-side with Dutchy. "Ah… Dutchy?"

"Yeah?"

"What… Well, if you don't mind me askin', what was that all about?"

Dutchy glanced down at Racetrack, who looked genuinely puzzled. He was sure that behind them, Jack was listening intently too.

"I was just… just takin' care of something I should have taken care of a long time ago." He grinned tiredly. "It's all right, really."

Race nodded, though he still looked quite confused. He glanced back at Jack and said sardonically, "Why didn't we figure this out sooner? All we had to do to make Dutchy happy was let him talk to the buildings. Who knew?"

At that, Dutchy laughed. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd laughed.

"Yeah, Dutchy, why didn't you tell us the buildings was your friends?" Jack grinned. "We didn't even get introduced."

"I wasn't—" Dutchy tried, then stopped and shrugged. Jack and Racetrack couldn't have known how important his "talk with the building" had been, and they were just trying to cheer him up. What good would it do to get offended? "Well, that was more of a 'good-bye' talk than a 'hello' talk, anyway." He paused. "Uh, guys? What now?"

"Huh?" Jack asked, also speeding up so he was now walking shoulder-to-shoulder with Dutchy.

"I mean, how do we… find Bumlets?" He didn't want to ruin his relatively good mood, but now that he'd made his peace with his family, Bumlets was the most important thing in his life.

Race sighed. "I guess we could spread the word to other newsies 'round the city? Get Brooklyn and Queens and all of the others out lookin' for him?"

"But not our guys," Jack cautioned. "We ain't gonna take the risk of havin' Bumlets be found by the spy."

"You kiddin'?" Race snorted. "You think you can stop 'em from lookin' for Bumlets? So why didja make that whole 'three or more' rule?"

"That was just… for general wanderin' 'round. Not for organizin' and searchin', okay?"

Dutchy put in, "But what if Bumlets is still in Manhattan? We ain't gonna just ignore that possibility, right?"

Jack frowned. "I dunno, Dutchy. We'se gotta be careful 'bout this."

"Too careful, Jack," Race put in. He looked at Dutchy out of the corner of his eyes. "Why don't we just… talk 'bout this tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," Dutchy muttered. "Yeah. Always gonna do it tomorrow."

"He's got a point, Dutchy," Jack said. "It's getting' late, you'se had a rough day, and…we'll just plan tomorrow, okay?"

"Fine." Dutchy crammed his hands in his pockets.

The rest of the walk was silent.

Upon arriving back at the Lodging House, Dutchy immediately crawled into bed. Most of the boys were still awake, but Dutchy didn't let that bother him. And in the end, it seemed like Jack had been right: though Dutchy couldn't stop thinking about Bumlets, he fell asleep within a few minutes.

And his dreams were quiet and not haunted by the shades of his family.

In fact, Dutchy slept peacefully right up until the point that he was unceremoniously poked in the shoulder. He scrunched up his face and turned over, ignoring the poke.

Then he was poked again.

And again.

Finally, with a frustrated, sleepy frown on his face, Dutchy rolled in the direction of the poker and squinted his eyes open. "What?" he snapped grouchily.

Race was kneeling next to his bed, looking at him intently. "You awake, Dutchy?"

"I am now," Dutchy snapped. "How could I sleep with you jabbin' at me?"

"Sorry 'bout wakin' you," Race replied, but he sounded utterly unrepentant. "I just figured that this was the only time we could talk."

"It couldn't have waited till morning?" Dutchy asked.

"I wanted to talk to you 'bout Bumlets."

Dutchy hesitated, but only for a moment. "Let's talk outside." With the minimum amount of moaning and groaning, he rolled out of bed and shoved his glasses on his face. He followed Racetrack down the stairs, and as they had on that other night when they'd discussed Bumlets, they sat on the stairs right outside the Lodging House.

"You sure this is safe?" Dutchy asked, only half-joking. "After all, didn't Jack say 'three or more'?"

Racetrack responded by lighting up a cigar. "You ain't the spy and I ain't the spy. We'se sittin' on the steps of the Lodging House. I think it's okay."

"Point," Dutchy nodded. "So, uh, what did you want to say?"

"You remember what I told ya?" Race blew a smoke ring into the air. "About Bumlets?"

"You told me lotsa things 'bout Bumlets, Race." Dutchy leaned back against his elbows, trying to look casual.

Race gestured. "Just being difficult now, ain'tcha, Dutchy? You know what I'm talking 'bout."

"Oh?"

"'Bout how he feels 'bout you."

"Oh, that."

"You know, I only told you that 'cause I thought he was dead."

"Yeah, I know," Dutchy said guiltily. "I couldn't let on that he wasn't, Race. I woulda stopped you otherwise."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that. But now that I know that Bumlets is alive… I wanna know what you'se gonna do with the stuff I told ya. For instance… You ain't gonna make him feel weird 'bout it, right?"

"No!" Dutchy exclaimed. "I'd never do that to him!"

"You sure? 'Cause… you was pretty shocked, as I remember."

"Yeah. Yeah, I was."

"So didja say anything about it to Bumlets when you went to go see him at the theatre?"

"Not…exactly," Dutchy hedged. "Not directly. He doesn't know that you said anythin' to me, okay?"

"What did you say?" Racetrack asked suspiciously.

"Nothin'!" Dutchy said, sitting up and folding his arms. "I didn't say nothin' mean to him. I care 'bout Bumlets!" Race eyed Dutchy out of the corner of his eye, but didn't say anything. Dutchy scowled. "I can't believe you think I'd be a jerk to him!"

"I didn't say that," Race replied calmly.

Dutchy wasn't done digging his hole, apparently. "Bumlets is a great guy, you got that? He's nice and carin' and…and…" He trailed off, seeing the look that Racetrack was giving him. "What?"

Race waited only a second before letting a huge smile take over his face. "I knew it! I knew it!" he crowed, his cigar dangling from his mouth, waving his arms in the air triumphantly. "Ha!"

"Shhhhh!" Dutchy hissed. "You'se gonna wake up all the guys! And… and knew what?"

Race quieted down, but didn't stop grinning like an idiot. "Quit playin' dumb, Dutchy. You ain't no genius, but you'se a lot smarter than you let on." He laughed out loud. "You and your 'I don't like guys!'" He glanced over slyly. "So how was it, Dutchy?"

"How was wh—" Dutchy froze, realizing what Race meant. He blushed a dull red. "We didn't!"

"Sure you didn't," Race replied, still smirking.

"No, there… wasn't time," Dutchy mumbled.

After a long sideways glance, Racetrack shrugged, apparently deciding that Dutchy was telling the truth. "Next time, I guess. Was it me?"

"Was – what you?" Dutchy asked. Racetrack wasn't usually this confusing.

"That decided you. You said you didn't like boys, but clearly, you did some thinkin' and changed your mind."

"Shut up, Race."

Race held his hands up in mock-surrender. "Sorry, Dutchy."

"Why're you so interested in what I do, huh?"

Taking a long drag on his cigar, Race exhaled as he spoke. "I like to see my friends happy."

"And?" Dutchy looked at Racetrack over the edge of his glasses. "Why ain't you tellin' me that I'se disgusting for… for likin' another guy that way?"

Race's eyes sparkled merrily. "Why d'you think?"

Dutchy was aware that his mouth had fallen open, but he was too surprised to bother to close it. "You don't mean… Race, you ain't… No. Can't be."

"Can be," Race confirmed. "Dutchy, you ain't the only one 'round here who's found that he likes guys."

"Really?" he asked in amazement. "Who – who else?"

"I'd like to tell ya, but I can't."

"Why not?"

"I keep secrets." Race took a final drag and stubbed out his cigar on the top stair. "Nobody likes goin' and havin' his personal life blabbed all over the place. If I'm told somethin' in confidence, I keep it that way."

"Ah." Dutchy paused. "Race, about – about me and Bumlets –"

Putting a finger to his lips, Racetrack grinned. "Don't worry. I'se assumin' this whole conversation's confidential."

"Yeah. Yeah, thanks," Dutchy confirmed. "Um…"

"Yeah?"

"What 'bout you, Race? You, uh, with anyone?" Race's eyebrows shot skyward. "I ain't – I mean – I'se just curious," Dutchy added hastily.

"'With's a funny word, ain't it? Sorta am. Sorta ain't. Can't give out names."

"Gotcha," Dutchy replied, still curious, but accepting that he couldn't know. "Hey, Race, long as we're awake… Where should we start lookin' tomorrow?"

"For Bumlets?" Race grinned lopsidedly. "Well, I just kinda figured that you'd wanna go straight to the guy who's got sources all over the city."

"You mean, Spot Conlon?" Dutchy grimaced.

"You could go to Spot, I s'pose. Or, if you wanna make it through tomorrow without gettin' soaked… Well, I was gonna suggest Denton."

"Denton!" Dutchy exclaimed. "Of course." Climbing to his feet, Dutchy shook his head. Why hadn't he thought of Denton before? Not only did Denton have his eye out for anything happening around the city, he seemed to take any of the newsies' problems on automatically. Besides Medda and Kloppman, he was the best adult friend the newsies could have had.

He smiled at Race and, extending a hand, helped the shorter boy to his feet. "Let's get some sleep, okay? And," he added sternly, "if you wake me again, Race, I swear I'se gonna soak you 'till you think right's left and aces are twos."

"Uh, Dutchy? Aces are—"

"Shut up, Race."

The next morning, Dutchy left the Lodging House with the other newsies. They were a fairly subdued lot, as opposed to their usual joking and clowning around. Most of them were still pretty quiet around him, but a couple others besides Mush had come up to him in apology. The way he figured it, besides Jack, Race, and Mush, he had five guys on his side: Kid Blink, Crutchy, Jake, David, and Skittery. It wasn't a bad start, he decided. Some of the guys would take longer to win back, but now that Dutchy knew that he wasn't alone, he felt like he could handle a bit of grumbling and maybe even a soaking. After all, he was pretty much all healed up from the fight with the clowns now… the few remaining bruises he had were yellowing.

He just hoped that Bumlets, wherever he was, didn't hate him. He couldn't, Dutchy told himself sternly. Even if… even if it was Dutchy's fault that Bumlets had been discovered and had had to cheese it. Maybe he was mad – he had a right to be mad – but he couldn't hate Dutchy. He couldn't hate him, not knowing how Dutchy felt.

Or so Dutchy prayed.

The temptation to just slip away from the horde of boys and run off to find Denton immediately was nearly overwhelming. He managed to stop himself, though, by reminding himself that he didn't want to make Jack angry. Not now, not so soon after getting back into good graces, back into the Lodging House. All the same, how could he care about selling papes with Bumlets out there somewhere, lost and alone?

Dutchy slowed his step until he was walking next to David and Jack, who were laughing over some private joke.

"Uh… guys?" he asked.

"What is it now, Dutchy?" Jack asked, looking put-out at having been interrupted.

"Be nice, Jack," David scolded him gently. "What is it, Dutchy?"

"I wanna go see Denton," Dutchy replied, aware that the others had quieted down, and that the eye of every newsie was on him. "And I think now'd be a good time."

Jack gestured towards the Distribution Yard. "But what 'bout papes, Dutchy?"

"What 'bout papes, Jack?"

Jack whistled. "Wasn't you the one who was always sayin' that he needed more an' more money?"

"Well, yeah…"

"How much money you got on you?"

Dutchy scowled. "I don't got nothin', Jack."

"Nothin'?" Jack whistled. "And how're you plannin' on eatin' if you don't sell papes?"

"It ain't my fault!" Dutchy snapped. "I was robbed."

"Robbed?" David asked. "When? What happened?"

"Nothin'," Dutchy mumbled, embarrassed. "It was before this whole mess started."

"And you haven't saved up anythin' since then?" Jack asked in amazement.

Dutchy glared at him.

"Jack," David cautioned, "Dutchy hasn't exactly had a much of a chance since then…"

"Oh. Right." Jack paused. "Still, Dutchy… We'se your friends and we'll help you out… but you gotta make some money for yourself. Guys ain't gonna loan to you if you can't pay 'em back."

"Bumlets did," Dutchy said softly.

"Yeah, well, Bumlets ain't…" Jack trailed off, looking as though he very much regretted opening his mouth.

"…ain't here," Dutchy finished disgustedly. "And that's why I don't give a damn 'bout papes right now, Jack. Because Bumlets is my friend, and I ain't gonna be able to concentrate on selling a single damn pape until he's back." He stared straight ahead, not looking at Jack or David.

Finally, David said tentatively, "Jack, he's right. It's not like it's all that far to Denton's place. We stopped selling papes for the strike, but are we going to keep selling with one of our friends missing?"

Probably still ashamed of what he'd almost said, Jack muttered, "Fine. The three of us can make a real quick stop at Denton's, I guess. But that's it."

Dutchy opened his mouth to reply, but Blink, walking in front of him, beat him to it. "That's all well an' good for the three of you," he said loudly, "but what 'bout the rest of us?"

"You guys has gotta sell papes," Jack replied firmly.

And suddenly Dutchy understood the tension that had been bubbling under the surface all that morning: everyone was worried and everyone wanted to do his part to help find Bumlets. One glance at the faces around him, and he knew which side he was on.

"Jack, the guys wanna help," he said.

"We got a job to do," Jack snapped, "and we can't all be runnin' around without any idea of what we'se doing!" He glared at Dutchy.

"Come on, Jack," Snoddy chimed in, "you gotta let us do somethin'."

"Yeah," Skittery added. "Bumlets is our friend."

One by one, all of the others spoke up.

"Can't stop us, Jack."

"Might as well let us."

"He'd do the same for us."

"Yeah."

"We'se gonna help one way or 'nother."

"Yeah."

"But –" Jack scowled and spoke so low that only Dutchy and David could hear him. "But what 'bout the…" He trailed off, but Dutchy knew right away what he was talking about.

"That's why we got the 'three or more' rule," he muttered back. "Jack… you can't stop 'em."

"Yeah, can't stop us."

"I ain't plannin' on sellin' papes today anyway."

"We gotta find Bumlets."

"Fine!" Jack yelled. "Fine. If you'se all so determined to skip out on work today – "

"Today nothin'!" Swifty yelled. "I ain't workin' till we find him!"

Racetrack, who was behind Jack, whispered in his ear, "You'd best send some guys to tell the other newsies, and let the others look."

"I don't like this," Jack replied.

"You'se in charge," Racetrack replied, "but the rest of the guys still have wills of their own. Best you can do is tell 'em to be safe and send 'em on their way."

"Right," Jack said through clenched teeth. "You guys figure out who's gonna go and tell the newsies in the rest of the city, and who's gonna look 'round here. Remember, three or more. David, Dutchy… Come on. Let's go to Denton's."

Jack was sulking as the three of them hurried away from the busily talking crowd of newsies, but Dutchy felt as though he'd just won a major battle. Not without help, of course, he quickly amended, but in just a few short moments, all of the Manhattan newsies had been mobilized to look for Bumlets, and he'd had a lot to do with that. He knew that Jack was still worried about the spy, and to some extent, so was he, but the need to find Bumlets overrode all need for caution.

And so it was when they knocked on Denton's door and he opened it, Dutchy nearly pushed his way inside, turned to face Denton, and said simply, "We need help."

Denton didn't look nearly as surprised as Dutchy had expected him to. He simply nodded, waited till both Jack and David were inside, and shut the door calmly.

"I had the feeling that something was going on," Denton said. "People have been acting strangely. I just didn't know what it was. So, what can I help with, boys?"

Dutchy was beginning to lose count of the number of times he'd told the story. Add one, he thought gloomily, then opened his mouth and straight into, "So Bumlets and I was hangin' around the Lodging House…"

As he talked, David and Jack both sat down at Denton's small table and whispered to each other. It would have irritated Dutchy, but he knew that they already knew the story, and so he just focused on telling the events to Denton as clearly as he could.

Denton nodded every now and again, and about halfway through the story, he grabbed a pen and a pad of paper, and started writing busily.

Dutchy paused in his recitation. "Denton – what're you doin'?"

"Taking notes."

"What, you gonna write an article?" Dutchy's eyes widened in horror.

"Not if you don't want me to," Denton replied evenly. "But in any case, taking notes helps me to remember details, which I'll need in order to be able to help. Please, continue."

So Dutchy resumed talking, but for the entire rest of the story, he kept one suspicious eye on Denton's busily scribbling hand.

"…and so we decided to come here," he finally finished. "'Cause you know people, and you might have an idea of what we oughta do."

"That's quite a story, boys," Denton replied, and he didn't sound the least bit condescending. "Really. It might not rival the sheer grandeur of the strike, but…"

"It ain't a story," Dutchy said harshly. "It's for real."

"Of course it is. Let me think for a moment." Sitting down, Denton rested his forehead against his hand and closed his eyes. Dutchy waited, holding his breath. Finally, Denton looked up again. "So the Manhattan boys are informing the rest of the city's newsies and searching in Manhattan."

"Right."

"Well, I don't know if any of you boys would be up to doing this – "

"I'se up for anything," Dutchy said automatically, but Denton didn't bother to reply to that. He just kept talking.

"—but really, the only way to find out if the clowns have Bumlets is to go to the clowns."

"What?" Jack asked, suddenly paying attention again. "To do what?"

Denton nodded, still in his own world. "Yes. Someone should, at the very least, go to the circus and see how the clowns are acting. Are they satisfied? Frustrated? It'd be best if one of you could sneak somewhere where you can actually hear them talking, and listen to what they talk about."

"Are you nuts?" Jack exclaimed. "You tryin' to get us all killed?"

Denton shrugged. "I did say that I'm not sure that any of you are up for it. But the only way to know for sure is to get your information straight from the horse's mouth, as it were."

"I'm goin'," Dutchy said immediately.

"No, you ain't." Jack narrowed his eyes, always a sign that he wasn't about to budge.

But neither was Dutchy.

"Denton's right," he said. "We gotta find out from them."

"What if they see ya, Dutchy? What if you'se recognized, huh? You want the rest of us to go searchin' for ya?"

"If I stay in the crowd, they ain't gonna do a thing," Dutchy answered, still determined. "They'd get caught if they did."

"They'd follow you," David put in. "Wouldn't they? They'd wait till you were alone, and then…"

"Then I just won't be alone." Dutchy cocked an eyebrow at Jack and David.

"No," Jack said. "No. No no no no no."

"I'll go," David volunteered.

Jack looked fit to burst. "Dave!"

David shrugged. "They won't recognize me, Jack. I'll be careful."

"We," Dutchy corrected.

Sighing, David grinned wearily at Dutchy. "Just promise me you won't do anything stupid, okay?"

"Deal."

"No!" Jack snapped. "I don't agree to this!"

Denton spoke up. "If you guys want an adult with you…"

"Sure, thanks, Denton!" Dutchy exclaimed. "See, Jack? We'se gonna be fine. They ain't gonna try anything with a reporter nearby."

"What if they don't know he's a reporter?" Jack countered.

"Jack, I admire your caution," Denton said, "but Dutchy has a point – they won't try anything in public."

"I don't like this," Jack grumbled.

But it was too late; it had been decided.

It was time for a trip to the circus.

Author's Note: I'm looking forward to writing the next chapter. A whole lot. And I'll leave it at that for now.

As always, thanks for reading!