Chapter X

by Charles Dickens

　　Oliver Becomes Better Acquainted With the Characters of His New Associates; andPurchases Experience at a High Price. Being a Short, but Very Important Chapter, In ThisHistoryFor many days, Oliver remained in the Jew's room, picking themarks out of the pocket-handkerchief, (of which a great numberwere brought home,) and sometimes taking part in the game alreadydescribed: which the two boys and the Jew played, regularly,every morning. At length, he began to languish for fresh air, andtook many occasions of earnestly entreating the old gentleman toallow him to go out to work with his two companions.Oliver was rendered the more anxious to be actively employed, bywhat he had seen of the stern morality of the old gentleman'scharacter. Whenever the Dodger or Charley Bates came home atnight, empty-handed, he would expatiate with great vehemence onthe misery of idle and lazy habits; and would enforce upon themthe necessity of an active life, by sending them supperless tobed. On one occasion, indeed, he even went so far as to knockthem both down a flight of stairs; but this was carrying out hisvirtuous precepts to an unusual extent.At length, one morning, Oliver obtained the permission he had soeagerly sought. There had been no handkerchiefs to work upon,for two or three days, and the dinners had been rather meagre.Perhaps these were reasons for the old gentleman's giving hisassent; but, whether they were or no, he told Oliver he might go,and placed him under the joint guardianship of Charley Bates, andhis friend the Dodger.The three boys sallied out; the Dodger with his coat-sleevestucked up, and his hat cocked, as usual; Master Bates saunteringalong with his hands in his pockets; and Oliver between them,wondering where they were going, and what branch of manufacturehe would be instructed in, first.The pace at which they went, was such a very lazy, ill-lookingsaunter, that Oliver soon began to think his companions weregoing to deceive the old gentleman, by not going to work at all.The Dodger had a vicious propensity, too, of pulling the capsfrom the heads of small boys and tossing them down areas; whileCharley Bates exhibited some very loose notions concerning therights of property, by pilfering divers apples and onions fromthe stalls at the kennel sides, and thrusting them into pocketswhich were so surprisingly capacious, that they seemed toundermine his whole suit of clothes in every direction. Thesethings looked so bad, that Oliver was on the point of declaringhis intention of seeking his way back, in the best way he could;when his thoughts were suddenly directed into another channel, bya very mysterious change of behaviour on the part of the Dodger.They were just emerging from a narrow court not far from the opensquare in Clerkenwell, which is yet called, by some strangeperversion of terms, 'The Green': when the Dodger made a suddenstop; and, laying his finger on his lip, drew his companions backagain, with the greatest caution and circumspection.'What's the matter?' demanded Oliver.'Hush!' replied the Dodger. 'Do you see that old cove at thebook-stall?''The old gentleman over the way?' said Oliver. 'Yes, I see him.''He'll do,' said the Doger.'A prime plant,' observed Master Charley Bates.Oliver looked from one to the other, with the greatest surprise;but he was not permitted to make any inquiries; for the two boyswalked stealthily across the road, and slunk close behind the oldgentleman towards whom his attention had been directed. Oliverwalked a few paces after them; and, not knowing whether toadvance or retire, stood looking on in silent amazement.The old gentleman was a very respectable-looking personage, witha powdered head and gold spectacles. He was dressed in abottle-green coat with a black velvet collar; wore whitetrousers; and carried a smart bamboo cane under his arm. He hadtaken up a book from the stall, and there he stood, reading away,as hard as if he were in his elbow-chair, in his own study. Itis very possible that he fancied himself there, indeed; for itwas plain, from his abstraction, that he saw not the book-stall,nor the street, nor the boys, nor, in short, anything but thebook itself: which he was reading straight through: turningover the leaf when he got to the bottom of a page, beginning atthe top line of the next one, and going regularly on, with thegreatest interest and eagerness.What was Oliver's horror and alarm as he stood a few paces off,looking on with his eyelids as wide open as they would possiblygo, to see the Dodger plunge his hand into the old gentleman'spocket, and draw from thence a handkerchief! To see him hand thesame to Charley Bates; and finally to behold them, both runningaway round the corner at full speed!In an instant the whole mystery of the hankerchiefs, and thewatches, and the jewels, and the Jew, rushed upon the boy's mind.He stood, for a moment, with the blood so tingling through allhis veins from terror, that he felt as if he were in a burningfire; then, confused and frightened, he took to his heels; and,not knowing what he did, made off as fast as he could lay hisfeet to the ground.This was all done in a minute's space. In the very instant whenOliver began to run, the old gentleman, putting his hand to hispocket, and missing his handkerchief, turned sharp round. Seeingthe boy scudding away at such a rapid pace, he very naturallyconcluded him to be the depredator; and shouting 'Stop thief!'with all his might, made off after him, book in hand.But the old gentleman was not the only person who raised thehue-and-cry. The Dodger and Master Bates, unwilling to attractpublic attention by running down the open street, had merelyretured into the very first doorway round the corner. They nosooner heard the cry, and saw Oliver running, than, guessingexactly how the matter stood, they issued forth with greatpromptitude; and, shouting 'Stop thief!' too, joined in thepursuit like good citizens.Although Oliver had been brought up by philosophers, he was nottheoretically acquainted with the beautiful axiom thatself-preservation is the first law of nature. If he had been,perhaps he would have been prepared for this. Not beingprepared, however, it alarmed him the more; so away he went likethe wind, with the old gentleman and the two boys roaring andshouting behind him.'Stop thief! Stop thief!' There is a magic in the sound. Thetradesman leaves his counter, and the car-man his waggon; thebutcher throws down his tray; the baker his basket; the milkmanhis pail; the errand-boy his parcels; the school-boy his marbles;the paviour his pickaxe; the child his battledore. Away theyrun, pell-mell, helter-skelter, slap-dash: tearing, yelling,screaming, knocking down the passengers as they turn the corners,rousing up the dogs, and astonishing the fowls: and streets,squares, and courts, re-echo with the sound.'Stop thief! Stop thief!' The cry is taken up by a hundredvoices, and the crowd accumulate at every turning. Away theyfly, splashing through the mud, and rattling along the pavements:up go the windows, out run the people, onward bear the mob, awhole audience desert Punch in the very thickest of the plot,and, joining the rushing throng, swell the shout, and lend freshvigour to the cry, 'Stop thief! Stop thief!''Stop thief! Stop thief!' There is a passion for huntingsomething deeply implanted in the human breast. One wretchedbreathless child, panting with exhaustion; terror in his looks;agaony in his eyes; large drops of perspiration streaming downhis face; strains every nerve to make head upon his pursuers; andas they follow on his track, and gain upon him every instant,they hail his decreasing strength with joy. 'Stop thief!' Ay,stop him for God's sake, were it only in mercy!Stopped at last! A clever blow. He is down upon the pavement;and the crowd eagerly gather round him: each new comer, jostlingand struggling with the others to catch a glimpse. 'Standaside!' 'Give him a little air!' 'Nonsense! he don't deserveit.' 'Where's the gentleman?' 'Here his is, coming down thestreet.' 'Make room there for the gentleman!' 'Is this the boy,sir!' 'Yes.'Oliver lay, covered with mud and dust, and bleeding from themouth, looking wildly round upon the heap of faces thatsurrounded him, when the old gentleman was officiously draggedand pushed into the circle by the foremost of the pursuers.'Yes,' said the gentleman, 'I am afraid it is the boy.''Afraid!' murmured the crowd. 'That's a good 'un!''Poor fellow!' said the gentleman, 'he has hurt himself.''_I_ did that, sir,' said a great lubberly fellow, steppingforward; 'and preciously I cut my knuckle agin' his mouth. Istopped him, sir.'The follow touched his hat with a grin, expecting something forhis pains; but, the old gentleman, eyeing him with an expressionof dislike, look anxiously round, as if he contemplated runningaway himself: which it is very possible he might have attemptedto do, and thus have afforded another chase, had not a policeofficer (who is generally the last person to arrive in suchcases) at that moment made his way through the crowd, and seizedOliver by the collar.'Come, get up,' said the man, roughly.'It wasn't me indeed, sir. Indeed, indeed, it was two otherboys,' said Oliver, clasping his hands passionately, and lookinground. 'They are here somewhere.''Oh no, they ain't,' said the officer. He meant this to beironical, but it was true besides; for the Dodger and CharleyBates had filed off down the first convenient court they came to.'Come, get up!''Don't hurt him,' said the old gentleman, compassionately.'Oh no, I won't hurt him,' replied the officer, tearing hisjacket half off his back, in proof thereof. 'Come, I know you;it won't do. Will you stand upon your legs, you young devil?'Oliver, who could hardly stand, made a shift to raise himself onhis feet, and was at once lugged along the streets by thejacket-collar, at a rapid pace. The gentleman walked on withthem by the officer's side; and as many of the crowd as couldachieve the feat, got a little ahead, and stared back at Oliverfrom time to time. The boys shouted in triumph; and on theywent.