having given the requisite instructions to a chosen agent calling himself "Jake Buck," that individual found a man lately out of the State Prison, who formerly chanced to have been concerned directly with the Chief's suspected party, in the uttering and circulation of counterfeit money.
"Jake Buck" applied to the ex-state prison bird, to know if he could sell him some coney.
"No," says the the other. "Are you in the business?"
"I would like to buy a little," says Jake.
"I don't sell any myself," responds the other, cautiously; "but I think I might find a man who will accommodate you. I will see, and let you know to-morrow evening."
"All right," says Buck; and the two acquaintances separate. Next evening they meet again—on the same business—the ex-prisoner having meantime applied to the party in whose service he formerly "shoved the queer" extensively, and who remembered his old customer, who had been "pulled" three years previously, for that offence.
"Out again? " says the big rogue, upon recognizing his former patron, who sought the former at his residence.
"Yes," replies the small coney man, "an' I'm dead broke, sure's yer live."
"And what next?" asks the big dealer.
"Nothin'. I don't know. Dam'f I don't think things look rather glum for a chance. Yer see I hain't got a brad to my name."
"Cleaned out, eh?" says the big dealer.
"Busted. Now if yer like to give an old pal a start ag'in, I'll try it on. What's up?"
The dealer assures his old friend that he feels disposed to help him, and at length places an admirably engraved new counterfeit $20 note in his hands, to commence operations upon. This note he takes to his new-found acquaintance,
