"That's four hundred pounds.
I don't think Old Bessie can haul that much."
Shocky looked at him.
"You hauled that much last time."
"No, I didn't," David said. "It was only thirty cans. And even then, there were times I thought Old Bessie was goin' to croak on me.
Suppose she did?
There I’d be with a dead horse and two hundred gallons of alky in the wagon.
It's bad enough if my old man ever finds out."
"Just this once," Shocky said. "I promised Gennuario."
"Why don't you use one of your trucks?"
"I can't do that," Shocky replied. "That's just what the Feds are lookin' for. They won't be lookin' for a junk wagon."
"The most I’ll take is twenty-five cans."
Shocky stared at him.
"I’ll make it twenty bucks this one time,'' he said. "You got me in a bind."
David was silent.
Twenty dollars was more than his father netted in a whole week, sometimes.
And that was going out with the wagon six days a week. Rain or shine, summer heat or bitter winter cold, every day except Saturday, which his father spent in shul.
"Twenty-five bucks," Shocky said.
"O.K. I'll take a chance."
"Start loadin', then." Shocky picked up a can with each of his long arms.
David sat alone on the wagon seat as Old Bessie slowly plodded her way uptown.
He pulled up at a corner to let a truck go by. A policeman slowly sauntered over.
"What're ye doin' out tonight, Davy?"
Furtively David cast a look at the back of the wagon.
The cans of alcohol lay hidden under the tarpaulin, covered with rags.
"I heard they're payin' a good price for rag over at the mill," he answered. "I thought I'd clean out the wagon."
"Where's your father?"
"It's Friday night."
"Oh," the policeman answered. He looked up at David shrewdly. "Does he know ye're out?"
David shook his head silently.
The policeman laughed.
"You kids are all alike."
"I better get goin' before the old man misses me," David said.
He clucked to the horse and Old Bessie began to move. The policeman called after him and David stopped and looked back.
"Tell your father to keep an eye peeled for some clothes for a nine-year-old boy," he called.
"My Michael is outgrowin' the last already."
"I will, Mr. Doyle," David said and flicked the reins lightly.
Shocky and Needlenose were already there when David pulled up against the loading platform.
Gennuario stood on the platform watching as they began to unload.
The detectives appeared suddenly out of the darkness with drawn guns.
"O.K., hold it!"
David froze, a can of alcohol still in his arms.
For a moment, he thought of dropping the can and running but Old Bessie and the wagon were still there.
How would he explain that to his father?
"Put the can down, boy," one of the detectives said.
Slowly David put down the can and turned to face them.
"O.K., against the wall."
"Yuh shouldn't 'a' tried it, Joe," a detective said to Gennuario when he arrived.
Gennuario smiled. David looked at him.
He didn't seem in the least disturbed by what had happened.