"Is this the editor of The Phoenix?" inquired Chester, respectfully.

"The Phoenix will have no existence till next week," answered the other, pleasantly. "I expect to be its editor."

"I came in answer to your letter."

"To my letter?" repeated the editor, puzzled.

"Yes; my name is Chester Rand."

"What!" exclaimed the brown-haired man, almost incredulously. "You—a boy? How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"And you are a contributor to Puck and other papers?"

"Yes, sir."

"You must be a smart boy. Shake hands."

Chester shook hands with a smile.

"Will my being a boy make any difference?" he asked.

"Not if your work is satisfactory. Are you willing to work exclusively for The Phoenix?"

"Yes, sir; that is, if I may be allowed to complete a contract I have made."

"What sort of a contract?"

"I am illustrating Prof. Hazlitt's ethnological work. I think it may take me some months more, working evenings."

"That won't interfere with us. I was afraid you might be under an engagement with a rival publication."

"No, sir. So far as that goes I will confine myself to The Phoenix if——"

"Terms are satisfactory, I suppose."

"Yes, sir."

"Then I will agree to pay you twenty-five dollars a week for the first six months. I may be able to do better afterward."

Chester was dazzled. Twenty-five dollars a week! What would Silas Tripp say to that or his enemy, the bookkeeper.

"I accept," he answered, promptly.



CHAPTER XXV.

CHESTER MEETS ANOTHER ARTIST.

"Where do you wish me to work?" asked Chester, after a pause.

"You can work at home, but you can call at the office every day to leave your work and receive instructions."

"All right, sir. When do you wish me to commence?"

"At once. Have you any work ready? I asked because we want to get out the first number as soon as possible."

"I have one sketch and have several ideas jotted down."

"Good! Deliver as much as possible to-morrow."

Chester returned home in a high state of exultation. He would be paid less for individual sketches, but, on the other hand, he would have a steady income and an assured market for all he might produce. It seemed a wonderful promotion from five dollars a week to twenty-five. To be sure, when in the real estate office he had picked up extra compensation for outside work, but this was precarious and could not be depended on. With twenty-five dollars a week he would feel rich. This set him to considering that he must have a better room if he was to do work at home. In the same house where he now occupied a hall bedroom was a large, square room well lighted with two windows, well furnished and having a good writing desk, left by some previous tenant in part payment of arrears of rent, which he could have for five dollars a week. He had often thought he would like to occupy it, and wished he might find an agreeable roommate who would share the expense with him. Now he felt that he could bear the expense alone. He lost no time in securing it and moving his few belongings in.

Mrs. Crosby, his landlady, was rather surprised.

"You must be doing well," she said.

Chester smiled.

"I have been discharged from my position in the real estate office," he said.

"Then," said the landlady, in some dismay, "isn't it imprudent to take a more expensive room?"

"I have secured a much better place."

"Oh! that alters the case. Is it likely to be permanent?"

"If I lose it I will go back to my old room."

"I am sure I am glad to hear of your good luck, Mr. Rand. It is very seldom that a young man of your age——"

"Call me a boy. I am not a young man yet."

"You seem to be getting on as well as a young man. I think you are real smart."

"You mustn't flatter me, Mrs. Crosby. You will make me vain. I forgot to say that I shall be a considerable part of the time in my room. That is why I want a larger one."

"But when will you work?" asked the landlady, puzzled.

"I shall work in my room."

"But what work can you do there?"

"I am an artist; that is, I am to make drawings for a new magazine."

"You don't say so? Will that pay?"

"Very handsomely."

"I hope you will show me some of them. I never met an artist before."

"I am afraid I am not much of an artist. I can show you one of my pictures now."

Chester took from the table a number of Puck and pointed out a sketch.

"That's pretty good," said the landlady. "You wouldn't get more than thirty-five cents for such a picture, would you?"

"I was paid five dollars for that."

"Do tell!" exclaimed Mrs. Crosby, who was brought up in a country town and still used some of the expressions which were familiar to her in early days. "I can't hardly believe it. It seems foolish to pay so much for such a little thing."

"I don't think it foolish, Mrs. Crosby. It must pay them, or they wouldn't keep on doing it."

Chester moved into his new room and enjoyed his ample accommodations very much. The next day he went to the office of The Phoenix and carried in two sketches. They were fortunate enough to win the approval of the editor.

"I see you are practical and understand what we want, Mr. Rand," he said. Just behind Chester was a man of fifty, rather shabby and neglectful in his personal appearance. He might be described as an artist going to seed. Whatever talent he might have had originally had been dulled and obscured by chronic intemperance.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, deferentially, "but I would like to submit a couple of sketches. I am Guy Radcliff."

"Glad to see you, Mr. Radcliff. Let me examine them."

"I am afraid," said the editor, after a brief examination, "that these are not quite what we want."

"Is it possible?" exclaimed Mr. Radcliff, indignantly. "You scorn my work, yet accept the sketches of that boy!" pointing at Chester with withering contempt.

"Because he has given me what I want."

"I was a famous artist before he was born."

"Very likely, and had done good work. But this is not good work."

"Sir!"

"My dear sir, don't be offended. I don't care for the age of any of my contributors. I know something of your famous successes, and I hope next time to approve and buy what you bring me."

Mr. Radcliff seemed only half propitiated. He and Chester went out together.

"What is your name, boy?" asked the artist.

"Chester Rand."

"I never heard of you."

"I am only a beginner," said Chester, modestly.

"You seem to have got in with Fleming."

"I may not keep in with him."

"Are you doing pretty well?"

"Yes, for a boy."

"Have you got a loose quarter about you? I haven't done much work lately, and am hard up."

Chester took half a dollar from his pocket and handed it to the elder man. His compassion was stirred as he felt for Radcliff's humiliation in being obliged to make such an appeal to a boy like himself.

"Thank you. You're a gentleman. I'll return it soon," said Radcliff, looking relieved. "Good luck to you! You're a good fellow, after all."

"I wish you good luck, too, Mr. Radcliff."

Chester did not need to be told what had brought the elder artist into such an impecunious condition. His face with its unnatural flush showed that his habits had been far from creditable.

"If I needed anything to keep me from drinking, Mr. Radcliff's example would be sufficient," thought Chester. He had before now been invited to take a drink at some convenient saloon, but he had never been tempted to do so.

Two days later Chester was walking through Union Square when he came face to face with Felix Gordon.

Felix espied him first.

"Hello! Chester," said his successor.

"Hello! I didn't see you."

"I envy you."

"Why?"

"You have nothing to do but to enjoy yourself," answered Felix, significantly.

"Oh, that's it!" said Chester, smiling. He saw that Felix thought him to be out of employment.

"That was the case with you before you succeeded me in the real estate office. How do you like it?"

"Pretty well, but I think I ought to get more salary. You got five dollars, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"I will try and get six when Mr. Fairchild gets back."

"I wish you success."

"You don't feel any grudge against me for taking your place?"

"No; it wasn't you who got me discharged."

"I thought you'd be in to get a letter of recommendation from cousin David."

"Would he give me one?"

"I don't know. Are you trying to get a place?"

"No."

Felix looked surprised.

"You ain't rich, are you?" he asked.

"No; what makes you ask?"

"I don't see how you can live without any salary."

"I couldn't. I ought to tell you that I have got a place."

"You have?" exclaimed Felix, in surprise, and it must be confessed, disappointment.

"Yes."

"Where is it?"

"In the office of a new paper."

"What is it?"

"The Phoenix, a comic paper just started."

"Where is the office?"

"In Nassau Street."

"Then why are you not there?"

"I don't have to be there all the time."

"Do you get good pay?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

"I get more than I did at the real estate office."

"You don't say!"

"Yes. I was in luck."

"Do you get six dollars?"

"More. I don't care to tell you just how much I get."

"By the way, there was an old man in the office yesterday inquiring after you."

"Did he give his name?"

"Yes. He said his name was Silas Tripp."

"What on earth brought Mr. Tripp to New York?" Chester asked himself.

This question will be answered in the next chapter.



CHAPTER XXVI.

A STRANGER IN NEW YORK.

It was not often that Silas Tripp went to New York. The expense was a consideration, and again he found it difficult to leave his business. But he had received a circular from an investment company in Wall Street, offering ten per cent. interest for any money he might have to invest. High interest always attracts men who love money, and it so happened that Silas had five hundred dollars invested. The difference between six and ten per cent. interest on this sum would make twenty dollars annually, besides a contingent share in extra profits promised in the circular, and on the whole he thought it would pay him to make the journey.

He went at once to the office of Messrs. Gripp & Co., on his arrival in the city. He found the financial agents occupying handsome offices, well furnished and covered with a thick Turkey carpet. Everything betokened prosperity, and Mr. Tripp was dazzled. The result was that he made the investment and laid away in his old-fashioned wallet five new bonds, assuring a dividend of ten per cent.

"I calc'late it's safe," he said to Mr. Gripp, a stout man with a florid face, expensively dressed and sporting a large and showy diamond ring.

"Assuredly, my dear sir," said Gripp, with suavity. "I congratulate you, Mr. Tripp, on making an unusually profitable investment. I venture to say that within the year, besides the regular dividend, there will be an extra dividend of five per cent., making fifteen per cent. in all. It is a pity you had not more invested."

"Mebby I'll bring you in some more bimeby," said Mr. Tripp, cautiously.

"I trust you will, for your own sake. To us it is not important, as we have plenty of capital offered. Indeed, we have had to limit investments to five thousand dollars for each person. Why, a millionaire, whose name would be very familiar to you if I could venture to mention it, came here last week and wanted to invest fifty thousand dollars in our bonds, but I firmly refused to take more than five thousand."

"I don't see why you should," said Silas, puzzled.

"I will tell you why. We wish to give a chance to smaller investors, like yourself, for instance. Rich men have plenty of ways in which to invest their money to advantage, while you probably don't know where to get over six per cent."

"No; I never got more'n that."

"I dare say you have considerable invested at that small interest."

"Well, mebbe."

"Think how much it would be for your advantage to get four per cent. more."

"To be sure, sartin! Well, I'll think of it, Mr. Gripp. Mebbe I'll come and see you ag'in soon."

Mr. Gripp smiled to himself. He saw that the bait was likely to prove effective.

"Well, good-by, Mr. Gripp. You'll send me any information about the bonds?"

"Yes, Mr. Tripp, with pleasure. Whenever you are in the city, even if you have no business with us, make our office your home. Whenever you have any letters to write, we will furnish you a desk and all facilities."

"Thank you, Mr. Gripp; you're very obleeging."

So the old man went out, feeling very complacent over his new investment, and much pleased with the handsome way he was treated by Mr. Gripp.

"Lemme see," he reflected. "I've got five thousand dollars invested. At ten per cent. it would amount to five hundred dollars, and with an extra dividend of two hundred and fifty dollars more. I'll have to think it over. All seems safe and square, and Mr. Gripp is a real gentleman."

Silas Tripp looked at his watch. It was only half-past ten. How should he occupy his spare time?

"I guess I'll go and see Chester Rand," he said. "His mother told me where he was working. Perhaps he'll know of some cheap place where I can get dinner. The last time I was in the city it cost me forty cents. That's a terrible price."

Mr. Tripp knew the location of Mr. Fairchild's office, and after some inquiry he found his way there. He felt so much like a stranger in the big city that he anticipated with pleasure seeing a familiar face. Perhaps Chester would invite him out to lunch, and Mr. Tripp, in his frugality, would not have declined the offer even of an office boy, as long as it would save him expense.

Felix Gordon was just leaving the office on an errand.

"Is that Mr. Fairchild's office?" inquired Silas.

"Yes," answered Felix, with rather a disdainful glance at Silas Tripp's rusty garments.

"Much obleeged to ye," said Silas.

He entered the office and glanced about, expecting to see Chester.

David Mullins came forward, and with some show of civility greeted the old country merchant. Though he was not naturally polite, he knew that the size of a man's purse could not always be judged from the cut or quality of his garments, and he was just as ready to make money out of Silas as out of any fashionably dressed customer.

"Is Mr. Fairchild in?" asked Silas.

"No; Mr. Fairchild is out West. I am Mr. Mullins, his bookkeeper, and represent him."

"Just so! Have you a boy workin' for you named Chester—Chester Rand?"

"Are you a friend of his?" asked the bookkeeper.

"Well, yes. I come from Wyncombe, where he lives, and I know his folks. I was told he was workin' here."

"Yes, he was working here," answered Mullins, emphasizing the past tense.

"Isn't he here now?" demanded Silas, with surprise.

"No."

"How's that?"

"It's rather a delicate matter, as you are a friend of his, but some days since I was obliged to discharge him."

"You don't say!" ejaculated Silas, in manifest surprise.

"I am sorry to say it."

"But what was the matter? What did he do?"

"Well, as to that, he did nothing very serious, but he wasted time when he was sent out on an errand, and I felt that it was injurious to the interests of Mr. Fairchild to retain him."

"He used to be spry enough when he worked for me."

"When he worked for you?"

"Yes. I keep a store out in Wyncombe, and he was in my employ most a year. I used to think him quite a lively boy."

"I dare say he would do very well in a country store, but in the city we want boys to be active and wide awake. I don't want to say anything against him. He was perfectly honest, so far as I know."

"Has he got another place?"

"I don't think he has. It is difficult for a boy to get a place in this city—that is, a good place, and he wouldn't be likely to refer any employer to me."

"I'm afraid he'll be put to it to live, for his mother was poor. How much wages did you pay him?"

"Five dollars a week."

"That's pretty high pay."

"So it is, and we expect a first-class boy for that."

"Have you got a better boy in his place?"

"Yes; I have taken in a cousin of mine who knows my ways and satisfies me."

"Was it the boy I saw just after I came in—a dark-complexioned boy with black hair?"

"Yes, that is Felix."

"And you find him better than Chester?"

"Yes."

Silas Tripp did not make any comments, but he had not been very favorably impressed by the little he had seen of Chester's successor.

"Mebbe Chester isn't adapted to the city," Silas said.

"I think you are right. It would be better for him to go back into your store, but country boys fancy they must come to the city and become city business men."

"That's so. Mebbe I wouldn't succeed in the city myself, though I'm doin' a tidy business in Wyncombe. I'd like to see Chester. Can you tell me where he lives?"

"No, I haven't his address."

"I wonder he hasn't gone back home. Mebbe he hasn't got the money."

"I presume you are correct in your conjecture."

"His mother hasn't said anything to me about Chester bein' out of work. I'm surprised at that."

"Perhaps he did not like to tell her."

"Very like, very like! I'm really sorry to hear Chester ain't done no better."

"He isn't quite up to our mark, but I dare say he will do very well in the country or in some small business."

"Are you doin' a large business? You don't seem to have much stock here."

"My dear sir, we can't get brownstone houses and country villas into an office like this."

"Is that what you sell?"

"Yes; I sold a fifty-thousand-dollar house this morning up on Forty-fifth Street, and yesterday I sold a summer hotel for forty thousand dollars. Our commission in each case would be several hundred dollars."

"Sho! Well, you be doin' a good business. Can you tell where I can get a good dinner moderate?"

Felix came in at this moment.

"Felix," said his cousin, "you may keep the office while I go out to lunch. Mr. —— You didn't tell me your name."

"Silas Tripp."

"Mr. Tripp, it will give me pleasure if you will go out and take lunch with me."

"Well, I am sure you're very polite," said Silas, pleased to think he would be saved expense; "I'm much obliged."

So the two went out together. Mullins continued to say considerable that was derogatory to Chester, and left Mr. Tripp under the impression that he was a failure so far as New York business was concerned.



CHAPTER XXVII.

MR. TRIPP IS DISAPPOINTED.

Silas Tripp returned home full of the news he had heard in New York.

"Just as I thought," he said to himself, "Chester Rand ought never to have left Wyncombe. He ain't calc'lated to succeed in the city. He'd orter have stayed in my store. In two or three years he might have been earnin' four or five dollars a week, and he could have boarded at home. It costs a sight to live in the city. I ain't sure that I could afford it myself."

Mr. Tripp decided to offer Chester his old place at two dollars and a half a week. Abel Wood was again in his employ, but he didn't like him as well as Chester.

The latter he had always found reliable, while Abel was rather apt to forget what Silas told him. Once he had stopped in the street and played ball, losing ten or fifteen minutes in that way. Mr. Tripp was obliged to confess that he never had a more satisfactory boy than Chester.

The store closed at nine, and Silas, instead of going into the house, walked over to Mrs. Rand's cottage.

She was rather surprised when she saw who her visitor was.

"Good-evening, Mr. Tripp," she said, politely. "Won't you come in?"

"Thank you, widder. It's rather late to call, but I thought you might like to hear about York, seein' Chester is there."

"Have you been to New York to-day?"

"Yes; I went up on a little business."

"Did you see Chester?"

"No, I didn't see him," answered Silas, significantly.

"Did you hear anything of him?" Mrs. Rand naturally asked.

Mr. Tripp coughed.

"Well, yes, I heered somethin' about him."

"Is he—sick?" asked the mother, anxiously, made apprehensive by his tone.

"Not that I know of. Hain't he writ anything special to you?"

"I had a letter yesterday, but there was nothing special in it."

"I suppose he didn't say nothin' about his place?"

"Yes; he likes it very much."

"I don't like to say it, widder, but he's deceivin' you. I saw his employer myself, and he said that he had to discharge Chester."

Somehow Mrs. Rand did not seem so much disturbed by this intelligence as the storekeeper thought she would be.

"Oh, you mean the real estate office," she said.

"Yes; I was treated quite handsome by Mr. Mullins, the bookkeeper, who is runnin' the business while Mr. Fairchild is away. He says Chester wasn't spry enough, that he wasn't wide awake enough to work in the city."

Mrs. Rand actually smiled.

"So that is what he said," she returned. "I can tell you why Chester was discharged. Mr. Mullins wanted to give the place to his nephew."

"Mebbe so," answered Silas, dubiously. "Anyhow, it's unfortunate for Chester to lose his place. I feel for you, Mrs. Rand, as I always liked Chester myself, and I came here to-night to say that I'm ready to take him back into the store, and give him two dollars and a half a week. He suits me."

Mr. Tripp leaned back in the rocking-chair and looked as if he had made a very handsome proposal.

"I see, Mr. Tripp," said Mrs. Rand, smiling, "that you think Chester is out of a position."

"So he is. Wasn't he discharged? I know from what Mr. Mullins said he won't take him back."

"Chester would not be willing to go back. He has a new and better place."

"You don't say!" ejaculated Mr. Tripp, surprised and, it must be confessed, disappointed. "What sort of a place is it?"

"He is working for a New York paper or magazine."

"Sho! Does he get as much pay as he did at the other place?"

"Considerably more," Mrs. Rand answered, with satisfaction.

"More'n five dollars a week?"

"Yes; he offers to send me five dollars a week, but I can get along without assistance, since Miss Dolby pays me so liberally."

"Well, I am surprised. Chester is very lucky. Mebbe it won't last," he continued, hopefully.

"It seems likely to be permanent."

"Well, I guess I must be goin'. If he should lose his place, tell him I will take him back any time."

"I don't think he would be satisfied to come back to Wyncombe after working in New York."

Silas Tripp returned to his house rather disappointed. He had felt so sure of securing Chester's services, and now his old boy seemed to be quite out of his reach.

"Offered to send his mother five dollars a week!" he soliloquized. "Then he must be makin' as much as ten in his new place. Mr. Mullins didn't seem to know about it. I wonder what he can be doin' to get such a high salary."



CHAPTER XXVIII.

PROF. NUGENT.

Chester still went three times a week to the house of Prof. Hazlitt. He was getting on fast with the professor's work.

"I think I shall go to press with my book before the end of the year," said the professor, one evening, as Chester was taking his leave. "In my preface I shall mention your name, Chester, as my artistic collaborator."

"Couldn't you mention my name, too, Uncle Edgar?" asked Arthur Burks.

"In what way?" inquired the professor smiling.

"You can say that I supervised the illustrations," answered Arthur, demurely.

"I am afraid you will have to wait till you are better entitled to credit."

"Now, that's mean, Uncle Edgar. I know how I'll get even with you."

"How?"

"I will write a rival book, and get Chester to illustrate it better than yours."

"It would need better illustrations, since there would be nothing else in the work worthy of attention."

"Your uncle has got you there," said Chester.

"You'll illustrate my book, won't you?"

"Certainly; that is, if I can depend on prompt payment."

Chester and Arthur Burks were fast friends. Arthur did not shine in scholarship, but he was fond of fun, and was a warm-hearted and pleasant companion, and a true friend.

One afternoon he called on Chester at his room.

"I bring you an invitation to dinner," he said. "Uncle has a friend from Oregon visiting him, and as he is an interesting talker, you will enjoy meeting him. I believe he is a professor in Williamette University."

"Thank you, Arthur; I shall be very glad to come."

"Come with me now, if you have got through your day's work. You can have a little scientific conversation before dinner."

"It will be the science of baseball and tennis, I suspect, Arthur."

"No doubt you will find me very instructive."

"You always are, Arthur."

"Thank you. I like to be appreciated by somebody."

At the dinner table Chester was introduced to Prof. Nugent.

"This is Chester Rand, the young artist who is illustrating my ethnological work, brother Nugent," said Prof. Hazlitt.

"What—this boy?" Prof. Nugent exclaimed, in a tone of surprise.

"Yes. Boy as he is, he is a salaried contributor to The Phoenix."

"You surprise me. How old are you, Mr. Rand?"

"Sixteen."

"I suppose you began your art education early?"

Chester smiled.

"No, sir," he answered. "Four months ago I was the boy in a country grocery store."

"This is wonderful. I shall subscribe to The Phoenix before I go back to my Western home."

"I am afraid, sir, it will be too light to suit your taste."

"My dear young friend, don't suppose I am always grave. What says the Latin poet:

"'Dulce est desipere in loco.'

"If you don't understand it, probably Arthur can enlighten you."

"What does it mean, Arthur?"

"It means, 'When all your serious work is done, 'tis best to have a little fun,'" answered Arthur, promptly.

"Bravo, Arthur," said Prof. Nugent, clapping his hands. "So we have a young poet as well as a young artist here."

"Oh, yes," answered Arthur. "I'm pretty smart, but few people find it out."

"You'd better ask the professor about Tacoma," suggested Arthur, during a pause in the conversation.



CHAPTER XXIX.

MR. FAIRCHILD'S TELEGRAM.

"Tacoma!" repeated the professor. "Who is interested in Tacoma?"

"I own five lots of land there," answered Chester.

"Then I congratulate you. Lots are rising there, and are destined to go to a still higher point."

"How do you account for that?" asked Prof. Hazlitt.

"In three months the Northern Pacific Railroad will be completed, and that will give a great impetus to the growth of the town. I expect to live to see fifty thousand people there. Let me ask how you became possessed of these lots?"

"They were given to me by a friend now dead."

"What was his name?"

"Walter Bruce."

"Indeed! Why, I own three lots adjoining the Bruce lots. They are among the best located in the town."

"Would you advise me to keep them or sell if I have the chance?"

"To keep them, by all means. I shall keep mine. If, however, you wish to sell, I will myself pay you five hundred dollars each."

"Then I may consider myself worth twenty-five hundred dollars," said Chester, in a tone of satisfaction.

"Yes, and more if you are willing to wait."

"I think Mr. Bruce only gave twenty-five dollars apiece for them."

"Very likely. Mine only cost thirty dollars each."

"I shall begin to look upon you as a rich man, Chester," said Arthur Burks.

"Only a rich boy," corrected Chester, laughing. "I haven't begun to shave yet."

"I think I shall commence next week," remarked Arthur, rubbing his cheek vigorously.

"Since you own property in our neighborhood, Mr. Rand," said Prof. Nugent, "why don't you make us a visit?"

"I hope to some day when I can afford it," replied Chester, "but I didn't know till you told me just now that my lots were worth more than a trifle."

"If ever you do come, don't forget to call on me at the university. It is located in Salem, Oregon. I may be able to take a trip to Tacoma with you."

"Thank you, sir. I should like nothing better."

The next afternoon Chester chanced to enter the Fifth Avenue Hotel. He went through the corridor and into the reading room to buy a paper. What was his surprise to see his recent acquaintance, Paul Perkins, sitting in an armchair, reading a Minneapolis journal.

"Why, Chester!" exclaimed Mr. Perkins, cordially, as he rose and shook Chester's hand vigorously. "It does my heart good to see you. I was intending to call at your office to-morrow."

"You wouldn't have found me, Mr. Perkins."

"How is that?"

"I have been discharged."

"By that rascal, Mullins? It's a shame. I must see if I can't find you another position."

"Thank you, but it is not necessary. I have a place already."

"Good! Is it in the real estate business?"

"No, I am engaged on The Phoenix, a new weekly humorous paper, as one of the regular staff of artists."

"Whew! That is good. Do you get fair pay?"

"Twenty-five dollars a week."

"You don't say so. That is surprising. How much did you get at the other place?"

"Five."

"Then this is five times as good. You ought to give Mr. Mullins a vote of thanks for bouncing you."

"I don't think he meant to benefit me," said Chester, smiling.

"Do you have to work hard? What are your hours?"

"I have none. I work at home and select my own hours."

"Are you through work for the day?"

"Yes."

"Then you must stay and dine with me. It is four o'clock. We can chat for an hour, and then go to dinner."

"Thank you. I will accept with pleasure. Did you have a pleasant journey?"

"Yes; but I should have enjoyed it better if you had been with me. I called at the White House and shook hands with the President."

"Did you tell him you wanted an office?"

"No office for me. I would rather have my own business and be my own master. Washington's a fine city, but give me Minneapolis."

"I may call on you in Minneapolis sometime, Mr. Perkins."

"I hope you will. You'll find it worth visiting. It's a right smart place, if I do say it."

"I have seen a professor from a university in Oregon, and he has given me good news of my lots in Tacoma. I have five, as I think I told you. He offered me five hundred dollars apiece cash down."

"Don't you take it! They're going a good deal higher, now that the railroad is nearly completed."

"So he told me."

"I congratulate you on your good luck, Chester. I am sure you deserve it. But you haven't told me why you were 'bounced.'"

"Mr. Mullins said I wasted time in going his errands. It wasn't true, but it was only an excuse to get rid of me. He took his cousin Felix in my place."

The two friends went to dinner about six o'clock. At seven they came downstairs and sat in the lobby on a sofa near the door.

Through the portal there was a constant ingress and egress of men—a motley crowd—business men, politicians, professionals and men perhaps of shady character, for a great hotel cannot discriminate, and hundreds pass in and out who are not guests and have no connection with the house.

"It is a wonderful place, Chester," said Mr. Perkins. "Everybody seems at home here. I suppose everybody—everybody, at least, who is presentable—in New York comes here sometime during the year."

Just then Chester uttered a little exclamation of surprise. As if to emphasize Mr. Perkins' remark, two persons came in who were very well known to the young artist. They were David Mullins and Dick Ralston.

Mullins heard the slight exclamation and turned his head in the direction of the sofa on which Chester and his friend were sitting. So did Ralston.

"Why, it's your old boy!" he said.

Mullins smiled a little maliciously. He had not heard that Chester had a place.

"I suppose you are boarding here," he said, with a little sarcasm.

"No, Mr. Mullins, but I have just dined here—with my friend, Mr. Perkins."

Mullins inclined his head slightly.

"Has he adopted you?" he asked, in a tone bordering on impertinence.

"No, sir," answered Mr. Perkins; "but if Chester ever wants me to, I will. At present he is prosperous, and requires no help or adoption."

"Oh! Have you got a place?" asked Mullins, turning to Chester.

"Yes."

"In the same business?"

"No; I am in the office of a weekly paper."

"Oh!" said the bookkeeper, disdainfully. "They pay beggarly salaries at such places."

"Then I am favored. I receive more than twice as much as I did in your office."

Chester did not care to just state how much he received.

"That can't be possible!"

"It is a fact, however. Has Mr. Fairchild returned?"

"No. Why do you want to know?"

"I have no wish to go back, Mr. Mullins. Don't be apprehensive of that. I don't wish to disturb Felix."

Dick Ralston listened with some interest to the conversation.

"It strikes me the kid has come to no harm from being discharged," he said.

"I believe this is Mr. Perkins, of Minneapolis?"

"Yes, sir," answered the Westerner, eying the gambler with a penetrating glance.

"I shall be glad to be your guide if you wish to see something of New York. Will you join us this evening?"

"You are very polite, but I have an engagement with Chester."

"A mere boy! He knows nothing about the city."

"Still I am satisfied with him."

The two passed on and went into the bar-room, where they sat down at a table and ordered some liquid refreshment.

"Well, Mullins," said the gambler, "I am getting impatient. The days are slipping by, and you have done nothing."

"You know what I am waiting for. Yesterday a check for a thousand dollars was paid in at the office, and deposited in the bank to-day."

"Good! And then?"

"I will send Felix to the bank and draw out sixteen hundred. Will that satisfy you?"

"I see, and, according to our arrangement, Felix will hand it to me on his way back to the office, and then swear that it was taken from him by some unknown party. You have coached him, have you?"

"Yes. Of course, I had to let him into the secret partially, promising him twenty-five dollars for himself."

"Ten would have been sufficient."

"He would not have been satisfied. We can spare that."

"How soon do you expect Fairchild back?"

"In three days."

But on the morrow Mullins was disconcerted by receiving the following telegram:

"Expect me back sometime to-day. FAIRCHILD."



CHAPTER XXX.

THE ATTEMPTED ROBBERY.

Dick Ralston was in the real estate office when the telegram was received. Indeed, he spent a good deal of his time there, so that it was supposed by some that he had a share in the business.

"Look at that, Dick!" said the bookkeeper, passing the telegram to his confederate.

"Confusion! What sends him home so soon?" said Ralston. "Do you suppose he suspects anything?"

"No. How can he? Perhaps," said Mullins, nervously, "we had better give up the whole thing. You see how I will be placed. I'm afraid I shall be suspected."

"Look here!" growled Ralston, "I don't want to hear any such weak, puerile talk. How do you propose to pay me the nine hundred and sixty-odd dollars you owe me? Do you expect to save it out of your salary?" he concluded, with a sneer.

"I wish we had never met," said the bookkeeper, in a troubled tone.

"Thank you; but it is too late for that. There is nothing to do but to carry out our program. How much money is there on deposit in the bank?"

"About twenty-four hundred dollars."

"Then we had better draw out more than eighteen hundred. As well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb."

"You forget, Ralston, that such a wholesale draft will raise suspicion at the bank."

"You're awfully cautious."

"I don't want everything to miscarry through imprudence."

"Come, it is ten o'clock. Better send Felix to the bank."

"Better wait a little while. If we drew such a large amount just at the beginning of banking hours, the bank officers might suspect something."

"Cautious again. Well, wait half an hour, if you must. Call Felix and give him his instructions."

Felix Gordon came in at this moment, and was admitted to the conference.

"Felix," said the bookkeeper, "you remember the arrangement I made with you yesterday?"

"Yes, Cousin David."

"It is to be carried out to-day. I shall give you a check for eighteen hundred dollars, and you will receive the money and come from the bank here."

"Yes, Cousin David."

"You will carry the parcel in the left-hand pocket of your sack coat, and if it is taken you can appear to be unconscious of it."

"Yes."

"And—that is all you will have to do, except to say that a tall, thin man"—Ralston was short and sturdy—"jostled against you, and must have taken it."

"All right! I see. And I am to have twenty-five dollars for——"

"Your trouble. Yes."

"Give it to me now."

"Wait till you come back. Don't be afraid. You will get it."

"All right."

When Felix was on his way to the bank, he did not know that he was followed at a little distance by a small man with keen, black eyes, who, without appearing to do so, watched carefully every movement of the young office boy.

When Felix entered the bank, he also entered the bank, and stood behind Felix in the line at the paying teller's window.

He nodded secretly to the teller when that official read the check presented by Felix.

"Eighteen hundred dollars?" the latter repeated, aloud.

"Yes, sir," answered Felix, composedly.

"I shall have to go back to get it. We haven't as much here."

He went to another part of the bank and returned after a time with three packages. One was labeled one thousand dollars, another five hundred dollars and a third two hundred dollars. Then he counted out from the drawer beside him a hundred dollars in bills.

Felix, with a look of relief, took the three parcels and dropped them carelessly in the side pocket of his sack coat, and put the bills in loose. Then he started on his way back to the office.

Mr. Sharpleigh, for it was he, as the reader has doubtless guessed, walked closely behind him. He was not quite sure as to the manner in which the money was to be taken, but guessed at once when he caught sight of Dick Ralston at a little distance with his eyes intently fixed upon Felix.

The office boy sauntered along, with nothing apparently on his mind, and finally stopped in front of a window on Union Square, which appeared to have considerable attraction for him.

Then it was that the detective saw Ralston come up, and, while apparently watching the window also, thrust his hand into the pocket of the office boy and withdraw the package of money, which he at once slipped into his own pocket.

Mr. Sharpleigh smiled a little to himself.

"Very neat!" he soliloquized, "but it won't go down, my cunning friend."

Felix gave a little side glance, seeing what was going on, but immediately stared again in at the window.

Sharpleigh beckoned to a tall man, dressed as a civilian, but really an officer in plain clothes.

"Go after him!" he said, in a low voice, indicating Ralston.

Then he followed Felix, who in about five minutes began to show signs of agitation.

He thrust his hand wildly into his pocket, and looked panic-stricken.

"What is the matter, my boy?" asked Sharpleigh, blandly.

"Oh, sir, I have been robbed," faltered Felix.

"Robbed—of what?"

"I had eighteen hundred dollars in bank bills in my pocket, in four parcels, and—and they must have been taken while I was looking in at this window."

"You seem to have been very careless?" said Sharpleigh. "Why were you not more careful when you knew you had so much money in your care?"

"I—I ought to have been, I know it, sir, but I wasn't thinking."

"Where are you employed?"

"At Mr. Fairchild's office, on Fourteenth Street."

"The real estate agent?"

"Yes, sir."

"I know the place."

"My cousin is the bookkeeper. He will be so angry with me."

"I think he will have reason. I saw a man following you rather closely, I presume he took the money."

"Oh, won't you come back to the office with me and tell my cousin that? I am afraid he will discharge me."

"Yes, I will go with you."

So it happened that Felix and Mr. Sharpleigh went together into the office where Mullins was eagerly waiting for the return of his emissary.

"What's the matter, Felix?" he said, as the boy entered. "Have you brought the money?"

"Oh, Cousin David, I am so sorry."

"So sorry? For what?"

"I—I have lost the money. A pickpocket took it while I was looking in at a window. This gentleman was near and he saw a suspicious-looking man next to me."

"This is a strange story, Felix. We must notify the police at once. Did you see anyone likely to commit the theft, sir?"

This was, of course, addressed to Mr. Sharpleigh.

"Yes."

"You will be willing to testify to this at the police office? You see, this boy is my cousin. Mr. Fairchild is away, and I shall be blamed for this terrible loss. Why, there were eighteen hundred dollars in the parcel!"

"There were three parcels, and a roll of bills, Cousin David."

Mr. Mullins looked surprised.

"Then it was not all put in one parcel?" he said.

"No."

"That is strange. I—I don't know what to do. Mr. Fairchild has telegraphed that he will be at home sometime during the day. Probably I had better wait till he comes before notifying the police."

This he said in a questioning sort of way, as if asking Sharpleigh's advice.

"That will give the thief a chance to escape," suggested the detective.

"True. Perhaps you will be kind enough to leave word at the nearest police office. I only wish Mr. Fairchild were here."

"All right, sir," said the detective, "I will comply with your request."

He left the office, but it is needless to say that he didn't go far away.

"This is a very interesting comedy," he murmured, rubbing his hands, "a very interesting comedy, and apparently played for my benefit."

"Now, Felix," said the bookkeeper, "tell me how it all came out. Did the paying teller look suspicious when you presented the check?"

"No. He said he hadn't as much money in the drawer, and went to the safe in the back part of the bank. He returned with three parcels of bills in brown paper, and a hundred dollars loose."

"And then you put it in your pocket?"

"Yes, Cousin David; I did exactly as you told me. I put them in my pocket and walked back in a leisurely way."

"Did you see anything of Ralston?"

"Yes, I saw him out of the corner of my eye, while I was looking in at a window on Union Square."

"He took the money?"

"Yes. Now, Cousin David, give me the twenty-five dollars."

At that instant the door was opened suddenly, and Dick Ralston dashed into the office, looking very much excited.

"Mullins," he said, "we've been sold—sold—regularly sold. Look at this!" and he showed one of the brown packages partly torn open.

"Well," said the bookkeeper, "what's the matter?"

"Matter? Matter enough. Here's a package marked one thousand dollars, and it contains only slips of green paper in place of bills. You can see for yourself."



CHAPTER XXXI.

A DAY OF SURPRISES.

The bookkeeper looked amazed.

He turned to Felix.

"Was this package given you at the bank?" he asked.

"Yes," answered Felix.

"I don't understand it. Do you think they suspected anything?" he continued, turning to Ralston.

"What could they suspect?" growled Dick. "It's a pretty trick for a respectable bank to play on a customer."

"Was all the money bogus?" asked Mullins.

"Here are a hundred dollars in good bills."

"Have you opened any of the other packages?"

"No, but I will."

The gambler tore off a little of the outer paper from the five-hundred-dollar and two-hundred-dollar packages, only to discover that their contents were no more valuable than those of the first bundle.

"I'd like to know what all this means," said Ralston. "Is it a trick of yours?" he demanded, looking suspiciously at Mullins.

"No. On my honor, no. It is very puzzling. They must have made a mistake at the bank."

"Send the boy back."

"It won't do. He has already reported that he has been robbed. It's—it's very awkward."

"You must do something," said Dick Ralston, harshly. "I'm not going to be swindled in this way."

It was at this point that the office door was heard to open. Mr. Sharpleigh entered and fixed his glance on Ralston.

"Mr. Mullins," he said, "you wish to know who robbed your office boy of the money he drew from the bank?"

"Yes," faltered Mullins.

"There he stands!" answered Sharpleigh, calmly, pointing to Ralston.

"It's a—lie!" exclaimed the gambler, but he turned pale.

"I saw the robbery with my own eyes." went on the detective, "and——" he turned his eyes to the door, which opened to admit a stalwart policeman.

"Arrest that man!" said the detective. "He lay in wait for the office boy, and on his return from the bank robbed him of a large sum of money which he had just drawn out."

"Who are you?" demanded Ralston, trying to brazen it out.

"I am James Sharpleigh, a detective."

Mullins listened in dismay, for Sharpleigh's name was familiar to him as one of the cleverest detectives in the city.

"And who authorized you to meddle in a matter that did not concern you?"

The answer came from an unexpected quarter. Mr. Fairchild, valise in hand and dusty with travel, entered the office. He heard the question, and quickly comprehended the situation.

"It is nearly two weeks," he said, "since I engaged Mr. Sharpleigh to watch what was going on in the office. Chester Rand telegraphed me that he had been discharged, and my suspicions were excited."

"So it's that boy!" muttered the bookkeeper, spitefully.

"I left all to the discretion of my friend Sharpleigh, who has justified my confidence. I shall have to ask him to throw light on the present situation."

This the detective did in a few brief sentences.

"Am I to arrest this man?" asked the policeman.

"Yes," answered the broker, sternly. "Mr. Sharpleigh, will you accompany the officer and prefer charges?"

"See here," said Ralston, with an ugly look, "I'm not going to be a scapegoat. Your bookkeeper put up this job."

Mr. Fairchild turned slowly and regarded David Mullins attentively.

"I will bear in mind what you say," he answered.

"I took nothing of value," continued Ralston, "and you can't hold me. Here are three packages filled with green paper."

"Yes," said Sharpleigh, "the bank teller was acting under my instructions. I took care, however, to have one roll of genuine bills."

When the three had left the office Mr. Fairchild turned to the bookkeeper.

"Mr. Mullins," he said, "what could induce you to engage in such a wicked plot?"

"I don't admit any complicity in the affair," replied the bookkeeper, in a surly tone.

"Have you seen Chester Rand lately?"

"I saw him last evening at the Fifth Avenue Hotel."

"Why did you discharge him?"

"I thought him unfit for his place."

"There may be a difference of opinion on that point. This boy," he added, significantly, "is a relative of yours, I believe."

"Yes."

"Will you give me an idea of what has been done during my absence?"

Together the broker and the bookkeeper went over the books. Then Mr. Fairchild went out to dinner.

He was no sooner out of the office than Mullins said: "Felix, remain here till Mr. Fairchild returns. I am going out on an errand."

He opened the safe, drew therefrom a small package and left the office.

Half an hour later he was on a Cortlandt Street ferryboat bound for the Jersey shore.

The package which he took with him contained four hundred dollars in bills, which he had drawn from the bank the day previous without the knowledge of his confederate. He had been providing for contingencies.

When Mr. Fairchild returned Felix delivered the message.

The broker at once looked suspicious.

"Did Mr. Mullins say where he was going?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. He said he was going out on an errand."

"Did he take anything with him?"

"I didn't observe, sir."

When Sharpleigh came in a little later he looked about him inquiringly.

"Where's Mullins?"

"I don't think we shall see him again very soon," and the broker told the detective what he knew about his disappearance.

Sharpleigh shrugged his shoulders.

"He has been too sharp for us," he said. "Do you want me to do anything?"

"No; his loss of place and reputation will be a sufficient punishment."

At the close of the day Felix said: "I suppose you don't want me any more."

"You can stay till the end of the week. I have not had time to form any plans."

"Do—do you think Cousin David will come back?"

"I think it very improbable," said the broker, seriously. "Can you throw any light on the events of to-day?"

"Yes, sir."

"Go on. Was the robbery planned?"

"Yes, sir. I was to receive twenty-five dollars for my share."

"I believe you know Chester Rand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you know where he lives?"

"Yes, sir."

"Will you ask him to call here to-morrow?"

"I will, sir; but he tells me he has a good place, and would not care to return."

"I am aware of that. It is possible I may retain you——"

"Oh, sir, if you would!"

"On condition that you agree to serve me faithfully."

This was quite beyond the expectations of Felix.

"I will try to do so," he said, earnestly.

"You have begun well by confessing your share in the plot which came so near being successful. As your day's work is ended, I will consider the errand on which I am sending you extra, and will pay you for it."

The broker handed a half dollar to Felix, which he accepted joyfully.

"I don't much care if Cousin David has gone away," he soliloquized. "Mr. Fairchild seems a good sort of man, and I'll do my best to please him."

When Felix was ushered into Chester's presence the latter was just finishing a comic sketch for The Phoenix.

"What's that?" asked Felix, in surprise, for he was quite unaware of Chester's artistic gifts.

Chester showed it to him with a smile.

"Now you see how I am making my living," he said.

"Do you get pay for that?"

"Yes, certainly."

Then Felix bethought himself of his errand.

"There's a great row at the office," he said. "Mr. Fairchild has got home, Cousin David has run away and Mr. Ralston is arrested."

"That's a budget of news. When did Mr. Fairchild return?"

"This forenoon. He wants you to call to-morrow."

"All right. I will do so."

"And if he offers you back your old place you won't take it?" said Felix, anxiously. "If you don't, I think he'll keep me."

"Then I'll promise not to accept. I am better satisfied where I am. Have you had supper, Felix?"

"No."

"Then come and take supper with me. I go out about this time."

"It had certainly been a day of surprises," as Felix reflected when he found himself seated opposite a boy whom he had always disliked, as his guest.



CHAPTER XXXII.

EDWARD GRANGER.

"I suppose you don't care to come back to the office, Chester?" said Mr. Fairchild, when Chester called upon him the next day at the office.

"I like my present position better," answered Chester; "besides, I suppose you are hardly prepared to offer me twenty-five dollars a week."

"Do you receive as much as that?" asked the broker, in amazement.

"Yes, sir."

"I congratulate you heartily," said Mr. Fairchild. "It is clear that you are too high priced for the real estate business."

"Felix tells me you may retain him."

"I will give him a chance. It depends upon himself whether he stays."

"I am very glad of it, sir. Felix has hardly been my friend, but now that his cousin is away he may improve. I certainly hope so."

"What shall you do about Ralston?" asked Chester, presently.

"I shall proceed against him. Such a man is a curse to the community. It was through him that my bookkeeper lost his integrity and ruined his prospects. If he is locked up he will be prevented from doing any more harm."

As Dick Ralston will not again figure in this story, it may be mentioned here that he was found guilty in the trial that soon followed, and was sentenced to a term of several years' imprisonment.

The bitterest reflection he had when sentence was pronounced was that his confederate, Mullins, had escaped and was a free man. Rogues may work together, but it is seldom that any tie of friendship exists between them.

Chester was now able to save money. Including what he received from Prof. Hazlitt, his income was about thirty-five dollars a week.

His personal expenses were greater than they had been, on account of having a more expensive room. Yet altogether they did not exceed twelve dollars per week, leaving him a balance of twenty-three.

Of this sum he proposed to send his mother a part, but she wrote that the liberal board paid by Miss Jane Dolby covered all her expenses.

"I hope if you have money to spare you will put it in some savings bank," she wrote. "At present we are well and prospering, but the time may come when our income will be diminished, and then it will be very comfortable to have some money laid aside."

Chester acted upon his mother's suggestion. He did not tell her how much he earned. He wished this to be an agreeable surprise at some future day.

Then Chester moved into a larger room. The hall bedroom which he had hitherto occupied was taken by a young man of nineteen named Edward Granger. He was slender and looked younger than he was.

He did not seem strong, and there was a sad expression on his face. Sometimes he called on Chester, but for several days they had not met. About six o'clock one afternoon Chester knocked at his door.

"Come in!" he heard, in a low voice.

Entering, he saw Edward lying on the bed face downward, in an attitude of despondency.

"What's the matter, Edward?" he asked. "Are you sick?"

"Yes, sick at heart," was the sad reply.

"How is that?" inquired Chester, in a tone of sympathy.

"I have lost my place."

"When was that?"

"Three days since. My employer has engaged in my place a boy from the country—his nephew—and I am laid aside."

"That is unfortunate, certainly, but you must try to get another place. Your employer will give you a recommendation, won't he?"

"Yes, I have one in my pocket, but it is not easy to get a new place, and meanwhile——" He hesitated.

"Meanwhile you are out of money, I suppose," said Chester.

"Yes; I couldn't save anything. I got only five dollars a week, and my room costs two. I suppose, when the week is up, Mrs. Randolph will turn me into the street."

"Not while you have a friend in the next room," said Chester, cordially.

Edward looked up quickly.

"Will you really be my friend?" he asked.

"Try me. Have you had supper?"

"I have not eaten anything for two days," answered Granger, sadly.

"Why didn't you call upon me? I wouldn't have seen you suffer."

"I didn't like to ask. I thought you would consider me a beggar."

"You will understand me better after a while. Now put on your hat and come out with me."

Edward did so, but he was so weak from long fasting that he was obliged to lean upon Chester in walking to the restaurant, which was luckily near by.

"Let me advise you to take some soup first," said Chester. "Your stomach is weak, and that will prepare it for heartier food."

"I don't feel hungry," returned Edward. "I only feel faint."

"It may be well not to eat very much at first."

"How kind you are! I must be two or three years older than you, yet you care for and advise me."

"Consider me your uncle," said Chester, brightly. "Now tell me how it happens that you didn't apply to some friend or relative."

A shadow passed over the boy's face.

"I have none in New York—except yourself."

"Then you are not a city boy."

"No; I came from Portland."

"In Maine?"

"No; in Oregon."

"You have relatives there?"

"A mother."

"I suppose you hear from her?"

Edward Granger was silent.

"I don't wish you to tell me if you have an objection."

"Yes, I will tell you, for I think you are a true friend. My mother is married again, and my stepfather from the first disliked me. I think it is because my mother had money, and he feared she would leave it to me. So he got up a false charge against me of dishonesty. My mother became cold to me, and I—left home. I am of a sensitive nature, and I could not bear the cold looks I met with."

"How long ago was this?"

"About six months since."

"You came to New York directly?"

"Yes."

"Where did you get the money to come?"

"I came by it honestly," answered Edward, quickly. "I had a deposit in a savings bank, put in during my own father's life. I felt I had a right to use this, and I did so. It brought me to New York, and kept me here till I got a place in an insurance office."

"And you managed to live on five dollars a week?"

"Yes; it was hard, but I went to the cheapest eating houses, and I—got along."

"But you had no money to buy clothing."

"I brought a fair supply with me. Now I am beginning to need some small articles, such as handkerchiefs and socks."

"I wondered you would never go to supper with me."

"I didn't want you to know how little I ordered. You might have thought me mean."

"Poor fellow!" said Chester, pityingly. "You have certainly had a hard time. And all the while your mother was living in comfort."

"Yes, in luxury, for she is worth at least fifty thousand dollars in her own right."

"I hope your stepfather has not got possession of it."

"He had not when I came away. My mother is naturally cautious, and would not give it to him. He attributed this to my influence over her, but it was not so. She is of Scotch descent, and this made her careful about giving up her property. She allowed him the use of the income, only reserving a little for herself."

"Have you had any communication with her since you left Portland?"

"I wrote her once, but received no answer."

"The letter may not have reached her. It may have fallen into the hands of your stepfather. What is his name?"

"Trimble—Abner Trimble."

"Was he in any business?"

"Yes; he kept a liquor saloon, and patronized his own bar too much for his own good."

"I shouldn't think your mother would like to have him in that business."

"She asked him to change it, but he wouldn't. He had a set of disreputable companions who made his saloon their headquarters, and he did not wish to give them up, as he might have had to do if he had gone into another business."

By this time supper was over, and the two walked to Broadway. Edward felt stronger, and his eye was brighter.

Suddenly he gripped Chester's arm.

"Do you see that man?" he asked, pointing to a black-bearded man on the other side of the street.

"Yes; what of him?"

"It is a gentleman from Portland, a neighbor of ours. What can he be doing in New York?"



CHAPTER XXXIII.

A FRIEND FROM OREGON.

"Go over and speak to him," suggested Chester.

"Come with me, then."

The two boys crossed the street and intercepted the man from Portland. He was of medium height, with dark hair, and had a brisk, Western way with him.

"Don't you remember me, Mr. Wilson?" said Edward.

"What! Edward Granger?" ejaculated the Oregonian. "Well, I am glad to see you. Didn't know what had become of you. Are you living here?"

"Yes, sir. Let me introduce my friend, Chester Rand."

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Rand," said Wilson, heartily. "So you are a friend of Edward's."

"Indeed he is, an excellent friend!" exclaimed young Granger. "Have you—seen my mother lately?"

"Come over to my hotel and I'll answer all your questions. I'm stopping at the Continental, on the next block."

"All right! Will you come, Chester?"

"Yes; I shall be glad to."

They were soon sitting in the office of the Continental Hotel, at the corner of Broadway and Twentieth Street.

"Now I'll answer your questions," said Nathaniel Wilson. "Yes, I saw your mother the day before I set out."

"And is she well?" asked Edward, anxiously.

"She was looking somewhat careworn. She probably misses you."

"She never writes to me," said Edward, bitterly.

"It may be because she doesn't know your address. Then your stepfather keeps her prejudiced against you."

"I suppose there is no change in him?"

"No; except that he is drinking harder than ever. His business is against him, though he would drink even if he didn't keep a saloon."

"Does he treat my mother well?"

"I think he does. I have never heard anything to the contrary. You see, he wouldn't dare to do otherwise, as your mother has the property, and he wants to keep in with her in order to get a share."

"I have been afraid that she would give a part to him."

"Thus far I am confident she hasn't done it. She is Scotch, isn't she?"

"Yes; her name was Downie, and she was born in Glasgow, but came to this country at an early age."

"The Scotch are careful and conservative."

"She probably gives most of her income to Trimble—indeed, he collects her rents—but the principal she keeps in her own hands. Once I heard your stepfather complaining bitterly of this. 'My wife,' he said, 'treats me very badly. She's rolling in wealth, and I am a poor man, obliged to work early and late for a poor living.'"

"He pays nothing toward the support of the house," said Edward, indignantly. "Mother pays all bills, and gives him money for himself besides."

"I don't see how she could have married such a man!"

"Nor I. He seems coarse, and is half the time under the influence of drink."

"I wonder whether he has induced your mother to make a will in his favor," said Wilson, thoughtfully. "If he did, I think her life would be in danger."

Edward turned pale at this suggestion.

"I don't care so much for the property," he said, "but I can't bear to think of my mother's life as being in danger."

"Probably your mother's caution will serve her a good turn here also," said Wilson. "It isn't best to borrow trouble. I will keep watch, and if I see or hear of anything alarming I will write you. But now tell me about yourself. Are you at work?"

"Not just at present," replied Edward, embarrassed.

"But I think I can get him another place in a day or two," said Chester, quickly.

"If you need a little money, call on me," added the warm-hearted Westerner. "You know you used to call me your uncle Nathaniel."

"I wouldn't like to borrow," said Edward, shyly.

"When was your birthday?"

"A month ago."

"Then I must give you a birthday present You can't object to that," and Mr. Wilson took a ten-dollar gold piece from his pocket and pressed it upon Edward.

"Thank you very much. I can't decline a birthday gift."

"That's what I thought. I am an old friend, and have a right to remember you. Was Mr. Rand in the same office with you?"

"No; Chester is an artist."

"An artist! A boy like him!" ejaculated the Oregonian in surprise.

Chester smiled.

"I am getting older every day," he said.

"That's what's the matter with me," rejoined Mr. Wilson. "You haven't any gray hair yet, while I have plenty."

"Not quite yet," smiled Chester.

"What kind of an artist are you?"

"I make drawings for an illustrated weekly. It is a comic paper."

"And perhaps you put your friends in occasionally?"

"Not friends exactly, but sometimes I sketch a face I meet in the street."

"You may use me whenever you want a representative of the wild and woolly West."

"Thank you, Mr. Wilson."

"But in that case you must send me a copy of the paper."

"I won't forget it."

"How long are you staying in New York, Mr. Wilson?" asked Edward.

"I go away to-morrow. You must spend the evening with me."

"I should like to do so. It seems good to see an old friend."

"By and by we will go to Delmonico's and have an ice cream. I suppose you have been there?"

"No; office boys don't often patronize Delmonico. They are more likely to go to Beefsteak John's."

"I never heard that name. Is it a fashionable place?"

"Yes, with those of small pocketbooks. It is a perfectly respectable place, but people living on Fifth Avenue prefer the Brunswick or Delmonico's."

Edward brightened up so much owing to the presence of a friend from his distant home that Chester could hardly believe that it was the same boy whom he had found but a short time before in the depths of despondency.

About nine o'clock they adjourned to Delmonico's and ordered ices and cake.

"This seems a tiptop place," said the Oregonian, looking about him. "We haven't got anything equal to it in Portland, but we may have sometime. The Western people are progressive. We don't want to be at the tail end of the procession. Mr. Rand, you ought to come out and see something of the West, particularly of the Pacific coast. You may not feel an interest in it at present, but——"

"I have more interest in it than you imagine, Mr. Wilson. I have some property at Tacoma."

"You don't mean it! What kind of property?"

"I own five lots there."

"Then you are in luck. Lots in Tacoma are rising every day."

"But it wouldn't be well to sell at present, would it?"

"No; the railroad has only recently been completed, and the growth of Tacoma has only just begun."

"I hope to go West some day."

"When you do you must call on me. Perhaps you will come, too, Edward?"

Edward Granger shook his head.

"It won't be worth while for me to go back while Mr. Trimble is alive. He seems to have such an influence over my mother that it would not be pleasant for me to go there and have a cold reception from her."

"I will call on her and mention your name. Then I can see how the land lays. How she can prefer such a man as Abner Trimble to her own son I can't understand."

About ten o'clock the two boys left Mr. Wilson, who had been going about all day and showed signs of fatigue.

"Shan't I see you again, Mr. Wilson?" asked Edward.

"No; I must take an early start in the morning. You had better let me lend you a little money."

"No, thank you, sir. Your generous gift will help me till I get a place."

So the farewells were said, and the boys walked home.

"Now," said Edward, "I must try to get a place. This money will last me two weeks, and in that time I ought to secure something."

He went from place to place, answering advertisements the next day, but met with no luck. He was feeling rather depressed when Chester came into his room.

"I have found a place for you," he said, brightly.

"You don't mean it! Where is it?" asked young Granger.

"At the office of The Phoenix. You will be in the mailing department. The salary is small—only seven dollars a week—but——"

"I shall feel rich. It is two dollars more than I received at my last place. When am I to go to work?"

"To-morrow. The mailing clerk has got a better place, and that makes an opening for you."

"And I owe this good fortune to you," said Edward, gratefully. "How can I repay you?"

"By being my friend!"

"That I shall be—for life!" replied Edward, fervently.



CHAPTER XXXIV.

AFTER A YEAR.

A year passed. Chester remained in the service of The Phoenix, which had become an established success. His artistic work was so satisfactory that his salary had been raised from twenty-five to thirty dollars per week. Yet he had not increased his personal expenses, and now had nearly a thousand dollars deposited in different savings banks.

He had concealed the extent of his prosperity from his mother, meaning in time to surprise her agreeably.

About this period he received a letter from Wyncombe. It was from his mother. It ran thus:

"DEAR CHESTER: I am sorry to write you bad news. Miss Jane Dolby has decided to visit a sister in Chicago and remain a year. Of course this cuts off the liberal income I have received from her, and which has been adequate to meet my expenses. I may be able to earn something by sewing, but it will be only a little. I shall, therefore, have to accept the offer you made me sometime since to send me a weekly sum. I am sorry to be a burden to you, but it will only be for a year. At the end of that time Miss Dolby promises to come back and resume boarding with me.

"I think we have reason to feel grateful for your continued success in New York. Silas Tripp called a few evenings since. He has had a great deal of trouble with boys. He says he has not had anyone to suit him since you left. He asked me if I thought you would come back for four dollars a week. This he seemed to consider a very liberal offer, and it was—for him. I didn't give him any encouragement, as I presume you prefer art to the grocery business.

"You need not begin to send me money, at once, as I have been able to save a little from Miss Dolby's board.

"Your affectionate mother,

"SARAH RAND."

Chester answered at once:

"DEAR MOTHER: Don't feel any anxiety about your loss of income through Miss Dolby's departure, and don't try to earn any money by sewing. My income is larger than you suppose, and I will send you weekly as much as you have been accustomed to receive from your boarder. Should it be more than you need, you can lay aside any surplus for future use.

"Tell Mr. Tripp I prefer New York to Wyncombe as a place of business, and I am obliged to decline his generous offer. I cannot help thinking sometimes how fortunate it was that he declined over a year since to increase my pay, as in that case I might still have been working for him instead of establishing a reputation as an artist here. Last week I received a larger offer from another publication, but as the publishers of The Phoenix have always treated me well, I didn't think that I would be justified in making a change. I mean in a week or two to come home to pass Sunday. I shall feel delighted to see my friends in Wyncombe, and most of all, my mother.

"Your loving son, CHESTER ."

Mrs. Rand protested against Chester sending her eight dollars a week, but he insisted upon it, advising her to lay aside what she did not need.

One evening about this time Edward Granger, who still occupied the small apartment adjoining, came into Chester's room, looking agitated.

"What is the matter?" asked Chester. "Have you had bad news?"

"Yes; I have had a letter from Mr. Wilson, of Portland, whom you recollect we met about a year ago."

"I remember him."

"I will read you his letter. You will see that I have reason to feel anxious."

The letter ran as follows:

"DEAR EDWARD: I promised to send you any news I might pick up about your mother and her premising husband. Trimble is indulging in liquor more than ever, and I don't see how he can stand it unless he has a castiron constitution. From what I hear he has never given up trying to get your mother's property into his hands. She has held out pretty firm, but she may yield yet. I hear that he is circulating reports that you are dead. In that case he thinks she may be induced to make a will leaving her property to Mr. Trimble; having, as I believe, no near relatives, so that he would seem to be the natural heir.

"I may be doing Trimble an injustice, but I think if such a will were made she wouldn't live long. Your stepfather is in great straits for money, it seems, and he might be tempted to do something desperate. As far as I can hear, Abner Trimble's plan is this: He took a pal of his around to the house who had been in New York recently, and the latter gave a circumstantial account of your dying with typhoid fever. Evidently your mother believed it, for she seemed quite broken down and has aged considerably since the news. No doubt her husband will seize this opportunity to induce her to make a will in his favor. Here lies the danger; and I think I ought to warn you of it, for your presence here is needed to defeat your stepfather's wicked plans. Come out at once, if you can.

"Your friend,

"NATHANIEL WILSON."

"What do you think of that, Chester?" asked Edward, in a troubled voice.

"I think it very important. Your mother's life and your interests both are in peril."

"And the worst of it is that I am helpless," said Edward, sadly. "I ought to go out there, but you know how small my salary is. It has required the utmost economy to live, and I haven't as much as five dollars saved up. How can I make such a long and costly journey?"

"I see the difficulty, Edward, but I need time to think it over. To-morrow afternoon come in and I may have some advice to give you."

"I know that you will advise me for the best, Chester."

"There is a good deal in age and experience," said Chester, smiling.

When Edward left the room Chester took from his pocket a letter received the day previous, and postmarked Tacoma. It was to this effect:

"MR. CHESTER RAND.

"DEAR SIR: We learn that you own five lots on Main Street, numbered from 201 to 205. We have inquiries as to three of those lots as a location for a new hotel, which it is proposed to erect at an early date. We are, therefore, led to ask whether you are disposed to sell, and, if so, on what terms. We should be glad to have a personal interview with you, but if it is impracticable or inconvenient for you to come on to Tacoma we will undertake, as your agents, to carry on the negotiations.

"Yours respectfully,

"DEAN & DOWNIE, "Real Estate Agents."

"Why shouldn't I go to Tacoma?" thought Chester. "I can probably sell the lots to better advantage than any agents, and should be entirely unable to fix upon a suitable price unless I am on the ground. In case I go on, I can take Edward with me, and trust to him to repay the money advanced at some future time."

The more Chester thought of this plan the more favorable it struck him.

He went the next day to the office of The Phoenix, and after delivering his sketches, said: "I should like leave of absence for two months. Can you spare me?"

"Does your health require it, Mr. Rand?" asked the editor.

"No," answered Chester, "but I own a little property in Tacoma, and there are parties out there who wish to buy. It is important that I should go out there to attend to the matter."

The editor arched his brows in astonishment.

"What!" he said. "An artist, and own real estate? This is truly surprising."

"I didn't earn it by my art," replied Chester, smiling. "It was a bequest."

"That accounts for it. I suppose, under the circumstances, we must let you go; but why need you give up your work? Probably ideas and suggestions may come to you while you are traveling. These you can send to us by mail."

"But I can't do enough to earn the salary you pay me."

"Then we will pay according to the amount you do."

"That will be satisfactory."

"Do you need an advance for the expenses of your journey?"

"No; I have some money laid by."

"Another surprise! When do you want to start?"

"As soon as possible. I will not come to the office again."

"Then good luck and a pleasant journey."

When Edward Granger came into his room later in the day, Chester said: "Day after to-morrow we start for Oregon. Ask your employers to hold your place for you, and get ready at once."

"But the money, Chester?" gasped Edward.

"I will advance it to you, and you shall repay me when you can."



CHAPTER XXXV.

PREPARING FOR THE JOURNEY.

No sooner had Chester decided upon his Western journey than he telegraphed to Dean & Downe, of Tacoma:

"I will call upon you within two weeks."

Mrs. Rand was much surprised when Chester, coming home unexpectedly, announced his intentions.

"Do you want me to take you with me, mother?" asked Chester, with a smile.

"I am afraid I could not help you much. But you are not used to traveling. You may take the wrong cars."

Again Chester smiled.

"I have spent over a year in the city, mother," he said. "I have got along pretty well in the last twelve months, haven't I?"

"Yes; but suppose you were to fall sick, with no one to look after you?"

"I didn't tell you that I am going to have company. Edward Granger, who was born in Oregon, and is three years older than myself, will go with me."

"Then I shall feel easier. He knows the way, and can look after you."

Chester was secretly of opinion that he was more competent to look after Edward, but did not say so. He saw that his mother was easier in mind, and this relieved him.

Before he started from New York he called to see Mr. Fairchild. On Fourteenth Street he fell in with Felix Gordon.

"How are you getting along, Felix?" he asked.

"Pretty well. Mr. Fairchild has raised me to six dollars a week."

"I am glad of it. That shows he is satisfied with you."

"I try to please him. I began to think that is the best policy. That is why you have succeeded so well."

"Do you ever hear from Mr. Mullins?"

"No; but I know where he is."

"Where? Of course you know that I have no wish to injure him."

"He is somewhere in Oregon, or perhaps in Washington Territory."

Washington had not at that time been advanced to the dignity of a State.

"That is curious."

"Why is it curious?"

"Because I am going to start for Oregon and Washington to-night."

"You don't mean it! What are you going for?"

"On business," answered Chester, not caring to make a confidant of Felix."

"Won't it cost a good deal of money?"

"Yes; but I expect to get paid for going."

"What a lucky fellow you are!" said Felix, not without a trace of envy. "I wish I could go. I like to travel, but I have never had a chance."

Mr. Fairchild was equally surprised when told of Chester's plans.

"Are you going as an artist?" he asked.

"No; as a real estate man," answered Chester. "I own a few lots in Tacoma, and have a chance of selling a part of them."

Then he went into particulars.

"I congratulate you. I have only one piece of advice to offer. Make careful inquiries as to the value of property. Then ask a fair price, not one that is exorbitant. That might drive the hotel people to seeking another site for their house."

"Thank you, Mr. Fairchild; I will remember your advice."

"The journey is an expensive one. If you need two or three hundred dollars I will loan it to you cheerfully."

"Thank you very much, but I have more money saved up than I shall require."

"I see you are careful and provident. Well, Chester, I wish you every success."

"I am sure of that, Mr. Fairchild. By the way, I hear that your old bookkeeper is in Oregon or Washington."

"Who told you?"

"Felix. Have you any message for him if I happen to meet him?"

"Say that I have no intention of prosecuting him. If he is ever able I shall be glad to have him return the money he took from me. As to punishment, I am sure he has been punished enough by his enforced flight and sense of wrongdoing."



CHAPTER XXXVI.

A GREAT SURPRISE.

From New York to Tacoma is a long journey. Over three thousand miles must be traversed by rail, but the trip is far from tiresome. Chester and his companion thoroughly enjoyed it. All was new and strange, and the broad spaces through which they passed were full of interest.

They stopped at Niagara Falls, but only for a few hours, and spent a day in Chicago. Then they were whirled onward to St. Paul and Minneapolis, and later on over the broad plains of North Dakota and through the mountains of Montana.

"I never thought the country was so large before," said Chester to Edward. "You have been over the ground once before."

"Yes; but part of it was during the night, It is pleasant to see it once more. Many of the places have grown considerably, though it is only two years since I came from Portland."

Chester made some agreeable acquaintances. An unsociable traveler misses many of the profitable results of his journey, besides finding time hang heavily on his hands.

Just after leaving Bismarck, in North Dakota, Chester's attention was called to an old man, whose white hair and wrinkled face indicated that he had passed the age of seventy years.

The conductor came through the car, collecting tickets. The old man searched for his, and an expression of dismay overspread his face.

"I can't find my ticket," he said.

"That is unfortunate. Where did you come from?"

"From Buffalo."

"When did you last see your ticket?"

"I stopped over one night in Bismarck, and had to share my room with a young man, for the hotel was crowded. I think he must have picked my pocket of the ticket."

"Did you know the ticket was missing when you boarded the train?"

"No, sir. I did not think to look."

"Your case is unfortunate. How far are you going?"

"To Tacoma. I have a son there."

"I am afraid you will have to pay the fare from here. I have no discretion in the matter, and cannot allow you to ride without a ticket."

"Don't you believe my ticket was stolen?" asked the old man, in a state of nervous agitation.

"Yes, I believe it. I don't think a man of your age would deceive me. But I cannot let you travel without paying for another."

"I haven't money enough," said the old man, piteously. "If you will wait till I reach Tacoma my son will give me money to pay you."

"I am not allowed to do that. I think you will have to get out at the next station."

The old man was much agitated.

"It is very hard," he sighed. "I—I don't know what to do."

Chester had listened to this conversation with great sympathy for the unfortunate traveler, on account of his age and apparent helplessness.

"How much is the fare to Tacoma from this point?" he asked.

"In the neighborhood of fifty dollars," answered the conductor.

"Will your son be able to pay this?" asked Chester.

"Oh, yes," answered the old man. "William has been doin' well. He is going to build a large hotel in Tacoma—he and another man."

"Then," said Chester, "I will advance you what money you need. You can give me a memorandum, so that I can collect it from your son."

"Heaven bless you, young man!" said the old man, fervently. "You are indeed a friend to me who am but a stranger. I am sure you will prosper."

"Thank you."

"What a fellow you are, Chester!" said Edward. "You will make yourself poor helping others."

"I shall sleep better for having aided the old man," answered Chester.

The rest of the journey was uneventful. The two boys went at once to Tacoma, as Chester felt that the gentlemen who were negotiating for his lots were probably in a hurry to arrange for the building of the hotel. After establishing themselves at a hotel and eating dinner, they went at once to the office of Dean & Downie, the real estate agents from whom Chester had received a letter.

Here a surprise awaited him.

Standing at a desk in the rear of the office was a figure that looked familiar. The man turned as the door opened to admit Chester, and the latter recognized to his great astonishment his old enemy—David Mullins!



CHAPTER XXXVII.

DAVID MULLINS AGAIN.

When David Mullins saw Chester enter the office he turned pale, and looked panic-stricken.

"You here!" he exclaimed, in a hollow voice.

"Yes, Mr. Mullins. I am surprised to meet you."

"Then you didn't know I was here?"

"I heard from Felix that you were in this part of the country."

"I am trying to earn an honest living," said Mullins, in agitation. "My employers know nothing to my prejudice. Do you come as a friend or an enemy?"

"Mr. Mullins, I haven't the least intention of harming you. I will not even appear to know you. I came here to see Dean & Downie, with whom I have business."

"Heaven be praised! I will not soon forget your kindness. Here comes Mr. Dean. Remember your promise."