"What! This to me?" stormed the fellow, shoving his money back into his pocket.

"Yes, that to you. I am sorry Mrs. Parloe has such a rascal for a relative. Now, I am going to bid you good-day." And Nat began to move away.

"Come back here, you young villain!" cried Rufus Cameron.

He made a dash for our hero, but Nat was too quick for him. The boy ran across the street and around a corner, and in a moment more was out of sight. Rufus Cameron shook his fist in impotent rage.

"The jig's up!" he muttered. "What a mess! I thought I'd get a thousand dollars out of Shanley for that paper!"

Nat did not slacken his pace until he had reached the river. Then he ran aboard a ferry boat, and journeyed thus to New York, thinking that possibly his enemy would watch the cars.

When our hero reached the office he found that the regular force of clerks had already left, but his employer was still at his desk, finishing up some business of importance.

"Hullo! you are back quickly," exclaimed John Garwell.

"Yes, sir, and there's the document," answered Nat, and placed the paper on the desk.

John Garwell stared in amazement.

"Why, how did this happen?" he queried.

"It was blind luck, I guess," said Nat, and sitting down, he told his tale.

"You certainly were lucky. So that rascal wanted to bribe you?"

"Yes. I half felt like knocking him down for it." And Nat's eyes flashed.

"It would have served him right." The real estate broker looked the document over. "Yes, this is all right." He opened the sheet. "Hullo, here is a memorandum of some kind."

The memorandum was on a sheet of plain white paper. It contained a name and address and some figures.

"Eureka!" almost shouted the real estate broker. "This is luck, truly."

"What have you found, Mr. Garwell?"

"An address I have been hunting for for over a year. Now I can put that real estate deal through without further trouble. I knew Shanley or this Cameron had that address, but, of course, they wouldn't give it to me."

"I'm glad I got it for you."

"I imagine Rufus Cameron will be very angry when he learns that he has lost this address."

"It's his own fault."

There was nothing more for Nat to do that day, so he went home, and in the evening attended the night school where he had taken up shorthand and typewriting. He was making rapid progress, and he applied himself diligently.

On the following day, John Garwell was away from the office until the middle of the afternoon, and he also went off the next morning. On his return, his face wore a satisfied look.

"Well, that thing is settled," he said, on dropping into his chair. "And what a row I did have with Mr. Andrew V. Shanley!"

"You mean about that property?" queried Nat, looking up from his work at a side desk.

"Yes. I have sold the property and got my commissions, amounting to four thousand dollars in all. Shanley was as mad as a hornet."

"Did he mention Rufus Cameron?"

"No, but I did, and told him just what a dirty sneak the fellow was. After that Shanley shut up pretty quick."

"Do you suppose Rufus Cameron can do anything more in the matter?"

"No. But he will have it in for you, Nat, I am afraid."

"Oh, I guess I can take care of myself," answered our hero, calmly.

"This Shanley has tried to trip me up several times," went on John Garwell, leaning back in his office chair. "He tries to find out what I am doing, and then he does his best to steal the business away from me."

"Maybe this will teach him a lesson."

"Possibly; but I am afraid not, Nat."

Several days passed, and Nat kept at work steadily. During that time he received a letter from his uncle, in which Abner Balberry stated that he had arrived home once more, and found everything on the farm all right.

"Uncle Abner isn't such a bad sort after all," thought Nat, "Only he ought to drop some of his miserly habits. Perhaps, now that he is married again, he will."

One day our hero had to go up to One Hundred and Twenty-fifth Street on an errand.

"Take an elevated train," said his employer, and handed him the necessary carfare.

It did not take Nat long to reach the elevated station. Purchasing a ticket, he dropped it in the box, and walked out on the platform.

Only a few people were present, for it was the quiet hour of the morning. Among the number was a thick-set, trampish-looking fellow, who was smoking a short clay pipe. The man was more than half intoxicated, and lurched from side to side as he walked along the platform.

"That fellow had better look out for himself," thought our hero. "If he isn't careful, he may fall out on the tracks and get hurt."

As our hero had some time to wait for a train, he passed the man several times. The face of the fellow looked familiar, and Nat wondered where he had seen him before.

"I've certainly met him somewhere," thought the boy. "But where? I don't think it was in New York."

Presently the elevated train came into sight and those on the platform prepared to get aboard when it should stop for them.

The man lurched forward as before, and of a sudden fell sprawling directly in front of the train.



CHAPTER XXIII

TOM NOLAN'S CONFESSION

A cry of horror went up from those who saw the mishap, and some women present turned their heads away, expecting that the semi-intoxicated individual would be killed.

Nat's heart leaped into his throat, but he did not lose his presence of mind. He was but a few feet from the man, and as quick as a flash he jumped forward, caught the fellow up, and dragged him out of harm's way.

"Wha—what yer doin'?" stammered the fellow, gazing unsteadily at our hero.

"Do you want to be killed?" asked Nat, sharply.

"They won't—won't dare to kill me," said the fellow. "I'm a—a—good citizen."

"He ought to be locked up," said a man standing near.

"It was a brave deed," said one of the ladies.

"Who's goin' to lock me up?" demanded the tramp, for he was nothing less. And he began to show fight, at which the majority of the crowd turned away, and hurried to board the train. Nat hesitated for a second, and then concluded to let the train go on and take the next one.

"Say, you pulled me from the track, didn't you?" said the man, after another look at Nat.

"I did."

"Noble boy. I ought to reward you."

"I don't want any reward."

"Humph! Don't worry, my dear friend—Tom Nolan ain't got no money to reward you with." And the semi-drunken man indulged in a senseless chuckle.

"See here, haven't I met you before?" demanded Nat, looking at the man more closely than ever.

"Maybe yer have, an' maybe yer haven't."

"Where do you come from?"

"Me? I'm an Ohio man, I am, and I ain't ashamed to own it. Ohio's best State in the Union."

"So you are from Ohio. Were you ever in and around Brookville and Caswell?" went on our hero, suddenly.

"Sure. I spent two months in that district not very long ago. But I had to git out, I did." And the tramp chuckled again.

"What made you get out?" And now Nat was all attention.

"Folks didn't like me around."

"Didn't you treat them fairly?"

"Sure I did, but they thought their barns was too good for Tom Nolan to sleep in."

"And that's why they chased you away, eh?"

"Thet's it, my young friend. It was this way—to tell the plain truth. One night I went to sleep in a barn with my pipe in my mouth. Fust thing I knowed some hay got afire. A man came runnin' to put the fire out, and I had to leg it to git away."

"Was that up between Caswell and Brookville?"

"You've struck it, but—but—what's this to you, anyway?" and now Tom Nolan began to look disturbed.

"It's a good deal to me. That was my uncle's barn, and I was accused of setting it on fire."

"Gee shoo! Yer don't say! Say, I've put my foot into it, ain't I?"

"You certainly have."

"But, say, honest, I—I didn't mean to set the shebang afire—not on my life, I didn't."

"You were smoking, and fell asleep."

"Thet's the honest truth o' the matter, my young friend. I'm a tramp, an' down on my luck, but I ain't no barn burner, not me!"

"Well, you had better come with me," said Nat, decidedly.

"What are yer goin' to do?"

"I want a witness to what you just said."

"Goin' to have me—me locked up?"

"No, it's not worth it. I only want to prove to my uncle that I am not guilty, that's all."

The tramp followed Nat down into the street and then over to John Garwell's office.

"Why, what does this mean, Nat?" demanded his employer, in astonishment, for visits from tramps were unusual.

Our hero lost no time in telling his story.

"I want my uncle Abner to know that I am innocent, that's all," he continued. "It won't do any good to hold this chap, for the barn wasn't hurt much, anyway."

"I'll settle this," said Mr. Garwell, and called in a stenographer, who took down what the tramp had to say. Then the confession was typewritten, and Tom Nolan signed it, and John Garwell added his signature as a witness.

"There, Nat, that is all right now," said the real estate broker. "You can send that to your uncle when you please, and we can keep a copy."

"This is all I want," said our hero to the tramp. "You may go now."

"Don't want no more o' me?" asked Tom Nolan.

"Nothing whatever."

"Say, ain't this confession good fer a quarter?"

"I'll give you a quarter if you'll promise not to spend it for drink."

"I'll promise," said the tramp, and Nat handed him twenty-five cents. Tom Nolan thanked him, and shuffled off; and that was the last our hero saw or heard of him.

"I'm sorry I lost so much time," said Nat to his employer. "But I wanted to square myself with Uncle Abner if I could."

"I don't blame you, Nat. I have no doubt it is a great worry off your mind."

"It is. Now, Uncle Abner will know I told him the plain truth."

That night Nat wrote Abner Balberry a long letter, telling of his meeting with the tramp. He enclosed the signed confession, and he had the letter registered, so that it might not get lost in the mails. A few days later came a reply, in which Nat's uncle said he remembered seeing the tramp around on the day of the fire, and stating that he was very sorry that he had ever thought his nephew guilty.

Nat's work frequently took him out of town, and on one occasion he had to go to Albany, a trip which he enjoyed thoroughly, as it gave him a chance to visit the State Capitol.

"Nat," said John Garwell one day, "didn't you once tell me, that your father and grandfather had come from New York and Brooklyn?"

"Yes, sir."

"Was your grandfather ever interested in some property around Central Park?"

"I don't know but what he was. But he got rid of his belongings, so I was told, when he moved away."

"Did you ever see any of the papers?"

"Yes, sir, some years ago. They were in a trunk up in my uncle Abner's garret."

"What was your grandfather's full name?"

"Chester Stout Nason. His mother was a Stout."

"And your father's full name?"

"William Henry Nason."

"Did he have any brothers?"

"No, sir—only a sister, who was Uncle Abner's first wife."

"I see. Are those papers still in the trunk you just mentioned?"

"They ought to be. They were packed away with some old account books—bad debts, I once heard father call them. Father had an idea he could collect some of the debts some day. But I guess they are outlawed."

"More than likely. I'd like to see those papers regarding that land near Central Park."

"Why, Mr. Garwell? Do you think there is anything in it for me?" cried our hero, quickly.

"I'm not prepared to say that until I see the papers. I am looking up six parcels of land, which a certain company want for the purpose of putting up a big hotel. Some of the old deeds mention a Chester S. Nason as holding a half-interest in one of the plots of ground—the interest being assigned to him in payment of a claim he had on one Maurice LeRoy. Did you ever hear of such a man?"

"No, sir."

"Well, supposing you get those papers for me, and let me examine them."

"Shall I send to Uncle Abner for them?"

"I think it might be better for you to go home and sort out the papers yourself. I'll explain just what I am after. Besides, if the papers are valuable, you had better not trust them to the mails. I'll pay your railroad fares."

"All right, I'll go home for them whenever you say, Mr. Garwell. I hope the papers do prove valuable," and Nat smiled broadly.

"Don't raise false hopes, Nat. There may be nothing in it. But there is nothing like being sure."

"Is the tract of land valuable?"

"Very. It is located in the most fashionable territory around Central Park."

"When do you want me to go home?"

"You can start to-morrow if you wish. There is no rush of business on just at present. I presume you will be back within four or five days?"

"I'll come back as soon as possible."

"Take your time. A couple of days on the farm will do you good. It will be like a touch of old times."

"That is true," answered Nat.

The opportunity to go back to the farm pleased him. He packed his dress-suit case that night, and left on the ten-o'clock train in the morning. He was dressed in his best and had quite a city air about him. Certainly he could no longer be called a "greeny."

Nat spent the night at Cleveland, and took the train to Brookville in the morning. Almost the first person he met in the town was Sam Price.

"Hullo, are you back?" cried the country boy, shaking hands.

"Back for a few days, Sam."

"You look fine, Nat."

"I feel fine. How are you getting along?"

"Pretty good. Life on the farm is rather slow. Somebody told me you were tired of the city."

"It isn't true, Sam."

"Fred Guff says he wants to go to the city, too, but his mother won't let him."

"I suppose Fred helps my uncle Abner?"

"Yes, but your uncle don't get along with him very well. Fred's too slow for him."

Sam had driven to town with his buckboard, and he readily agreed to give Nat a ride over to Abner Balberry's farm. They were soon on the way, and less than an hour brought them in sight of the place.

"Some young man is coming, ma!" cried Fred, who was sitting on the doorstep, munching an apple. "Sam Price is driving him."

"Wonder what he wants here?" said Mrs. Balberry, shading her eyes with her hands. "Mercy sakes! It's Nat!"

"Nat!" repeated the boy. "Huh! if it's him I guess he's sick of the city. I thought he wouldn't make a go of it."

"Don't you be too sure of that," said the mother, shortly. "Nat has more ginger in him than you have."

By this time Nat was at the horseblock. He leaped off the buckboard, and advanced to greet Mrs. Balberry and her son.

"How do you do?" he cried, cheerily. "Aren't you surprised to see me?"

"I certainly am," answered Mrs. Balberry, as she shook hands.

"Got tired of the city, eh?" came from Fred. "I knew it wouldn't last."

"Do you think you could do anything in the city?" demanded our hero, sharply.

"Of course I could."

"It's hard work to get along in New York."

"I don't care—I wouldn't make a failure of it if I went. I guess you wasn't smart enough for them New Yorkers," added Fred, maliciously.

"What makes you think that, Fred?"

"If it wasn't so you wouldn't be back."

"Have you given up your place with Mr. Garwell?" asked Mrs. Balberry.

"No, I'm home on a vacation of a couple of days, that's all."

"Oh, then you are going back?" came from Fred, and his face fell.

"Certainly I am. I have a first-class position, with a promise of advancement, so it would be sheer foolishness for me to give it up."

"Ma said you were with a real estate man."

"Yes."

"That can't pay much."

"It pays very well."

"How much?"

"Ten dollars a week, at present. But I am to get more soon."

"You don't mean to say they pay you ten dollars a week," cried Fred.

"That is my regular salary."

"Then I'm going to the city to-morrow," said Fred, decidedly.



CHAPTER XXIV

THE PAPERS IN THE TRUNK

Nat now asked for his uncle and was told that his relative was at the barn. Placing his dress-suit case in the house, he walked down to the barn. In the meantime Sam Price had driven off.

"Uncle Abner, where are you?"

"Who's thet a-callin' me?" came from the farmer, as he looked forth from one of the horse stalls.

"I've come to ask you for a job," went on Nat, lightly.

"Nat! How be you?" Abner came and shook hands. "Want a job? Is it all up in New York?"

"No, uncle, I was only fooling. I came home for a vacation of a couple of days, that's all."

"Well, you're welcome, Nat. But it must cost money to travel so far for jest two days' vacation."

"I came for another purpose, too. Do you remember those old papers in the trunk in the garret?"

"Those thet belonged to your father an' grandfather?"

"Yes. Well, I am going to look them over and see if they are of any value."

"Ain't nuthin' of any use, Nat. I looked over 'em myself, one rainy day when I didn't have nuthin' else to do."

"Mr. Garwell thinks some of them might be valuable."

"Does he know about 'em?"

"He only knows what I told him."

"The old debts is all outlawed."

"But there are other papers—something about some land grandfather had an interest in."

"I don't know nuthin' about that. It's so long ago, I don't believe they are worth a cent."

"Well, it won't do any harm to look them over, and show them to Mr. Garwell," returned our hero.

It was approaching the noon hour, and in honor of Nat's arrival, Mrs. Balberry prepared an extra good dinner, of which the boy partook freely. It was plainly to be seen that the former widow was the ruler of the house, and that she compelled Abner Balberry to be far more liberal than had been his habit in years gone by.

"Have another piece of pie, Nat," said the lady of the house, graciously.

"Thank you, but I've had enough," answered Nat.

"Better save what's left for to-morrow," suggested Abner Balberry.

"If Nat wants another piece, he shall have it," was the lady's quick answer.

"Oh, certainly! certainly!"

"Ma, I want another piece," came promptly from Fred.

"You've had two pieces already, Fred."

"I want another."

"Not to-day."

"Just a little piece!"

"Not another mouthful!" And Mrs. Balberry placed the remainder of the pie in the cupboard.

"I can't never have nothing!" cried Fred, kicking the leg of the table.

"You'll have a box on the ears, Fred Guff, if you don't behave yourself," answered his mother, and then there was silence.

After dinner, Nat talked with his uncle for a while, and then putting on an old coat, went up into the dusty garret, and hauled out the old trunk. It was strapped, but not locked, so he had no trouble in opening it.

"What are you going to do?" asked Fred, who had followed him.

"Look over some papers," answered our hero, briefly.

"Want me to help you?"

"No."

"What are you going to do with the papers?"

"Take some of them to the city with me."

"Are they yours?"

"Yes."

"Say, don't you think it would be a good plan for me to go to the city and git a job at ten dollars a week?" went on Fred, sitting down on the top garret step.

"Yes, if you could get the ten-dollar job."

"Why can't I git it? You got it."

"I was lucky, that's all, Fred. Before I got it I might have starved to death."

"Huh! Couldn't you git me a job with your boss?"

"I don't think so."

"I'm just as smart as you are, Nat Nason."

To this our hero made no reply. He had brought out some of the papers, and was looking them over with much interest.

"If you don't want to help me git a job, I'll git one on my own hook," continued Fred, who was as dull as he considered himself bright.

"Well, you have a right to do as you please," said Nat. "But please leave me alone now, Fred; I want to read these very carefully."

"Huh! I'm going to stay in the garret as long as I please."

Nat said no more, and Fred began to kick the step upon which he was sitting. Then, he began to thump on the rafters of the garret, bringing down some dirt on Nat's head.

"Stop that, Fred!" cried our hero, sharply. "Stop it, I say!"

"I ain't goin' to stop."

"If you don't stop, I'll put you downstairs, first thing you know."

"You can't do it."

"Yes, I can."

"Do you want to fight?" demanded Fred, rising and squaring off.

"No, but I want you to leave me alone."

"I ain't touched you."

"No, but you were knocking the dirt down on me. Why can't you leave me alone?"

"I've got as much right in this garret as you have, that's why."

"You are mean."

"Don't you call me mean!" blustered Fred, and coming closer, he hit Nat on the shoulder. At once our hero hit back, and Fred received a thump in the mouth that caused him to topple backwards.

"Don't!" he screamed. "Don't—don't hit me again."

"Now, are you going to leave me alone?" demanded Nat.

"I'll tell my ma on you."

"If you do, I shall tell her how you annoyed me," answered Nat.

"Come down in the barnyard and I'll fight with you," said Fred, but, as he spoke, he retreated down the stairs.

"Don't be a fool, Fred. Behave yourself, and we'll get along all right," said Nat, and then Fred passed to the lower floor, banging the stairway door after him. There was a hook on the door, and this he fastened after him.

"Now, Nat can stay in the garret till I let him out," he muttered to himself.

When left to himself, Nat dragged the old trunk to one of the windows of the garret, and then began a systematic investigation of all the papers the box contained. He soon learned that the majority of the documents were of no importance, but there were half a dozen which looked of possible value, and these he placed in his pocket. Two of the sheets referred directly to the land in New York City.

"I hope these are what Mr. Garwell is looking for," he said to himself.

Having put the trunk back where it belonged, Nat started to go below, only to find the door hooked fast from the other side.

"Fred!" he called out loudly. "Fred, open the door!"

"Ha! ha! Nat Nason, how do you like being a prisoner?" came from Fred, who had been resting on a bed in a nearby room.

"I want you to open the door."

"What will you give me if I do?"

"I'll tell you what I'll give you if you don't!" cried Nat, angrily.

"What?"

"A good thrashing."

"You can't do it."

"Are you going to open the door?"

"No."

Fred had scarcely spoken when Nat pressed on the door, and the hook flew from its fastening. As the door burst open, Nat leaped from the stairway and caught the other boy by the collar.

"Now, then, that for locking me in," he cried, and boxed Fred's ears soundly.

"Stop!" roared Fred. "Stop, Nat Nason."

"Will you behave yourself after this, and leave me alone?"

"Yes! yes!"

"Then, see that you do," went on Nat, and flung the other boy from him. Fred picked himself up in a hurry, and ran below. He vowed he would get square, but during Nat's stay at the farm he could not muster up courage to do so.



CHAPTER XXV

BACK TO THE CITY

On the following day Nat arose at five o'clock, and put on an old suit of clothes. Slipping downstairs he hurried to the barn, where he fed the horses and then milked the cows. He was just finishing up when his uncle appeared.

"Well, I never!" ejaculated Abner Balberry. "Right back into harness ag'in, eh?"

"Yes, Uncle Abner; I thought I'd like a little taste of old times."

"You've done putty good to get through so quick, Nat. I wish Fred was such good help."

"Doesn't he help at all?"

"Not unless you drive him all the time. His mother gits after him, an' so do I, but it don't appear to do no good."

"He wants to go to the city and try his luck."

"Humph! He'd starve to death."

"Perhaps it might teach him a lesson."

"Well, he's got to do somethin' putty soon. I ain't goin' to support him if he won't work."

For the balance of the day Nat helped his uncle around the farm. It was rather hard work, but he did not complain, and Abner was greatly pleased.

"Nat, if you git tired o' the city, you come back here," said his uncle, on parting. "Remember, I'll make it right with you."

"I'll remember, Uncle Abner," responded Nat.

"Somehow, I guess I didn't use to understand you. You're a putty good boy after all."

"It's kind to say so."

"An' it wasn't right fer me to say you sot the barn afire," added Abner, earnestly.

"We'll let bygones be bygones," answered Nat, and then he shook hands with his uncle.

When Nat started back for New York, his Uncle Abner drove him to the railroad station at Brookville. Fred wanted to go for the ride, but his mother told him he must stay at the farm.

"You go and cut the wood," said she, sharply. "If you don't you'll get no supper to-night."

"I ain't goin' to cut no wood," growled Fred.

"Yes, you are—and do it right now, too."

"Hang the wood," muttered Fred, savagely. "I ain't going to stay on the farm. I'm going to New York, same as Nat."

At the depot Nat and his uncle parted on the best of terms.

"If you kin git off at Christmas, come an' see us," said Abner Balberry. "We'll have a good fat turkey for dinner, with all the fixin's."

"Thank you very much," said Nat. "Perhaps I'll come—if I can get away."

The run to Cleveland was quickly made, and here our hero found that he would have an hour to wait before the arrival of the train for New York. As his dress-suit case had been checked, he felt at liberty to walk around, to see the sights.

"How different matters are from when I first struck this city," he thought, as he walked along one of the streets. "Then I was a real greeny, but I didn't know it."

Nat was returning to the railroad station when he suddenly heard his name called, and turning, found himself confronted by Paul Hampton.

"Oh, how do you do, Mr. Hampton?" he cried, and shook hands. "I am real glad to see you."

"And I am glad to see you," answered the young man. "But how comes it you are in Cleveland. I thought you were in New York."

"I've been back to the farm for a couple of days—on business and pleasure combined. Aren't you in Buffalo and Niagara Falls any more?"

"Oh, yes, a law case brought me here. How are you doing?"

"Very well indeed."

"I am glad to hear it."

"You were awfully good to give me that hundred dollars," continued Nat, earnestly, "I never expected it."

"I hope it did you lots of good, Nat."

"It did and it didn't."

"What do you mean?"

"The money was stolen from me—or rather I was swindled out of it. That opened my eyes to the fact that I was not as smart as I had imagined myself to be." And then our hero related the experience he had had with Nick Smithers, alias Hamilton Dart.

"That was too bad," said Paul Hampton. "I trust you locate this Smithers some day."

"So do I."

"What are you doing?"

"I am with a real estate broker. I am learning shorthand and typewriting, and I am to become his private secretary."

"Then you are on the right road, and I congratulate you. The real estate business is an excellent one, especially in a large city like New York."

Paul Hampton walked to the depot with Nat and saw him on the cars. Soon our hero was off. The trip back to the metropolis was made without anything out of the ordinary happening.

"So you are back," said John Garwell, when our hero presented himself at the office. "I hope you enjoyed the trip."

"I did, very much, Mr. Garwell."

"How did your uncle treat you?"

"Finely, sir."

"Did you find any papers of value?" went on the real estate broker.

"I found half a dozen which I wish you would look over." And Nat brought forth the documents.

"I am anxious to close that real estate deal," went on John Garwell. "Others are getting wind of it, including that fellow Shanley from Brooklyn. He is doing his best to make me lose on the deal."

"Is Rufus Cameron in with him?"

"I believe he is. Both of them are very bitter."

"I suppose they are bitter against me too," observed Nat soberly.

"It is more than likely. But that can't be helped, Nat. In business a man is bound to make more or less of enemies."

John Garwell was very busy, and said he would look over the documents the next day. But on the following morning he was called out of town, so the documents were not examined until some days later.

As soon as he returned to the office, Nat went to work with vigor for over a week, to make up for the lost time. He had a great deal of writing on hand, and one evening he remained at the place until after nine o'clock.

As Nat had been indoors nearly all day, he resolved to walk home, just for the physical exercise and to get the fresh air. He started up Broadway, and was soon as far as Tenth Street. Here he attempted to cross the thoroughfare, but was stopped by a jam of cars and other vehicles.

"Let me alone!" he heard a boy not far off say. "Let me alone! I won't give you my money!"

"You've got to pay for the papers, country!" cried another boy. "Come, fork over the fifteen cents."

"It's all I've got."

"I don't care. Fork over, or I'll—I'll mash you!"

The voice of one of the boys sounded familiar, and stepping to a dark doorway, from whence the voices proceeded, Nat was amazed to find Fred Guff, and a New York newsboy who was a stranger.

"Fred!"

"Why, if it ain't Nat!" cried the farm boy. "Where did you spring from?"

"I think I had better ask you that question."

"I want me money!" came from the newsboy.

"Help me, Nat. He wants to get my money from me. It's the last fifteen cents I've got!" pleaded Fred.

"What do you want of the money?" demanded Nat, of the newsboy.

"Oh, it ain't none o' your business."

"I tried to help him sell papers," said Fred. "But I couldn't sell those he gave me, and now he wants me to pay for them, anyway."

"Did you agree to pay for them?"

"I said I'd pay for them if I sold them."

"Then you don't get any money," said Nat, sharply, to the newsboy. "Now let this boy alone, do you hear?"

"Ah! wait till I catch him alone," muttered the newsboy, and ran off around the corner.



CHAPTER XXVI

FRED GIVES UP CITY LIFE

"Now then, Fred, tell me how it is that you are in New York," said Nat, when the newsboy had departed.

"I—I ran away from home."

"Did you have the carfare to this city?"

"No, I stole a ride to Cleveland on a freight train, and then I stole another ride on two trains to New York. I was kicked off of one train."

"And what have you been doing since you landed here?"

"Selling papers, and doing odd jobs. I couldn't get anything steady."

"Did you try to find me?"

"No," and the gawk of a boy hung his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I—I wanted to make my own way, same as you are doing. But, oh, Nat, it's awfully hard."

"Where have you been staying nights?"

"One night I slept in a doorway, and last night I slept in a park until a policeman came and chased me away."

Fred looked so forlorn and hungry that Nat could not help but pity him. Coming to the city to earn his living had evidently hit Fred hard.

"Had any supper?" he asked, kindly.

"I had a—a bun."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"How much money have you?"

"Fifteen cents, and I wanted to make that last just as long as I could."

"Come with me, and I'll get you something to eat," said our hero.

Fred was willing enough, and seated at a table in a restaurant he fairly devoured the beef and beans, bread and coffee set before him.

"Have a piece of lemon pie?" asked Nat.

"Can you afford it, Nat?"

"I guess so," and our hero ordered the pie, and also ate a piece, and drank a glass of milk, to keep Fred company.

"It costs a terrible pile to live in the city," sighed Fred. "You've got to pay for everything. When I landed, a man made me pay ten cents for crossing a torn-up street."

"He swindled you, Fred."

"Maybe he did. I know he ran off as soon as he got the money."

"Where were you going to stop to-night?"

"I—I don't know."

"You had better come with me."

"I—I can't pay for regular lodging," and again the boy from the farm hung his head.

"Well, I'll do the paying."

"Will you?" Fred's face brightened. "Say, Nat, you're real good! I'm sorry I treated you so meanly when you paid us a visit."

"We'll let that pass. Now, you are here, the question is, what are you going to do?"

"Can't I find a job? I'm willing to do anything."

"We'll see about that."

They walked to Mrs. Talcott's place, and here Nat explained the situation, and Fred was placed in a room that chanced to be vacant. He was exceedingly tired and dropped to sleep almost instantly.

"I'm going to telegraph to Brookville that you are here and safe," said Nat, the next morning. "I don't want your mother to worry about you." And the telegram was sent off before our hero went to the office. Nat gave Fred a dollar, and told him to try his best that day to find something to do.

"I'll get something," said Fred, but that night he came back greatly disheartened.

"I couldn't get a thing," he declared. "I tried about fifty places. In one place a man kicked me out, and in another place a lot of boys called me 'Hayseed,' and threw lumps of dirt at me. I—I guess I'll go back to the farm."

"Don't you want to try it for another day?" asked Nat. "I'll pay your way." He knew the experience would do Fred good. The boy from the country consented; but at night he returned more discouraged than ever.

"I was a big fool to leave the farm," he sighed. "The city is no place for me. The noise makes my head ache, and I get lost every time I turn a corner. I wish I was back to Brookville."

"Very well, you shall start back to-morrow," answered Nat.

"But I ain't got the carfare, and I hate to try riding on the freight cars again."

"I'll get you a railroad ticket," answered Nat, and he did so, and also gave Fred some change for his meals. Fred was more than thankful, and actually cried on parting.

"You're the best boy in the world, Nat," he sobbed. "The very best! Just wait till you come back to the farm! I'll show you how I can treat you!" And then he was off for home, a sadder but a wiser youth.

"To go back to the farm was the best thing that fellow could do," was Dick's comment. "Why, he wouldn't amount to shucks here, even if he stayed a year."

"We can't all be city folks," said Mrs. Talcott. "Some men must remain farmers."

"The trouble with Fred is, he doesn't like to work," said Nat. "But this may teach him a lesson."

On the day that Fred left, Nat was called to the office by John Garwell.

"Nat, I want you to go to Springfield, Massachusetts, immediately," said the real estate broker. "See when you can catch a train."

"A train leaves the Grand Central Depot at eleven-thirty," was our hero's answer, after consulting a time-table.

"Then you have plenty of time. Take this document and turn it over to Mr. Perry Robertson."

"Yes, sir."

"Don't give it to anybody else."

"Shall I wait for Mr. Robertson, if he isn't in when I call?"

"Yes."

"All right, sir."

No more was said, and Nat prepared for the trip without further delay. He wished to ask his employer about the documents found in the trunk, but saw that Mr. Garwell was too busy to be interrupted.

Nat was getting used to taking short trips to various cities, so the ride to Springfield was no great novelty. He put in part of his time at reading a newspaper, and the balance at studying shorthand from a book which he carried with him.

Arriving at Springfield, Nat found he would have to wait until evening before he could see Mr. Perry Robertson. This made him stay in the city overnight, and he did not arrange to go back to New York until ten o'clock the next morning.

He had just paid his bill at the hotel, and was passing the smoking room, when he saw a man who looked familiar, get up from reading a newspaper, and walk toward him.

"Hamilton Dart!" gasped our hero, and rushing forward he caught the swindler by the arm.



CHAPTER XXVII

A SCENE AT THE HOTEL

The fellow who had posed as a broker and commission merchant was taken completely by surprise when confronted by Nat, and for the moment did not know what to say.

"I guess you didn't expect to see me again," said our hero, after a pause, during which Nick Smithers—to use his real name—glared fiercely at the youth.

"Excuse me, boy, but I don't know you!" said the swindler, at last. "You have made a strange mistake."

"Oh, no, I haven't," answered Nat. "You are Hamilton Dart, alias Nick Smithers."

"My dear young friend you are in error. My name is Josiah Garfield, and I am from Concord, Massachusetts."

"I am not mistaken. You are Nick Smithers, and you are the rascal who swindled me in New York City."

"Boy, you must be mad!" burst out Nick Smithers, in assumed indignation. "I a swindler! Preposterous!"

"It's the plain truth, and there is no use of your denying it."

By this time a small crowd was gathering around. Soon a clerk of the hotel came up hastily.

"What's the trouble here?" he questioned, anxiously.

"This boy is crazy," said Nick Smithers.

"No, I am not. This man is a swindler, and I want him arrested," came from Nat. He made up his mind, come what might, he would stand up for his rights.

"I am an honest man—well-known in Concord, where I keep a jewelry establishment," puffed Nick Smithers. "This is an insult to me." He turned to the hotel clerk. "I shall hold your hotel responsible for this."

"I—this looks as if you were making a mistake," said the clerk to Nat. "This gentleman has been stopping here for over a week. He is registered on our book as Josiah Garfield."

"He has half a dozen names," said Nat. "I tell you he is a swindler."

"And I say the boy is crazy. Boy, if you say another word, I'll have you locked up."

Nick Smithers thought Nat was so green that he would back down, but for once he made a mistake.

"Call a policeman, please," he said to the clerk. "We can talk this over when we get to the police headquarters."

"Are you sure of what you are doing?" asked the clerk.

"Yes, I am sure of it. I can prove beyond any doubt whatever that this fellow is a confidence man and a swindler. He swindled me out of a hundred dollars in New York, and he swindled several others out of the same amount. Just help me to lock him up and I'll get all the witnesses necessary."

"That's straight talk," came from a commercial traveler standing nearby. "If the boy can prove what he says this man ought to be arrested by all means."

"He can't prove a thing," answered Nick Smithers, but he began to grow hot and cold, for he realized that Nat meant business and was not to be overawed as easily as he had imagined.

"I'll call a cop!" piped in a newsboy who had drifted into the room. "I see one on de corner a minit ago," and away he ran to execute his errand.

"The police will have to settle this," said the hotel clerk. "If you are making a mistake it will cost you dear," he added, to Nat.

"I am making no mistake," answered our hero, firmly.

This reply set Nick Smithers to thinking. To try to bluff Nat was one thing; to prove his innocence at the police station might be quite another.

"I can't bother to go to the station—I've got to get a train for Boston!" he cried, and ran from the room with all of his speed.

"Stop him!" yelled Nat, and, began to give chase. "Stop him!"

The cry was taken up by several others, and all began to run after Nick Smithers.

"Keep my valise—I'll catch him if I can!" said Nat, to the hotel clerk, and off he sped, and was soon ahead of the others who had joined in the chase.

If there was one thing that Nick Smithers could do well, it was to run, and now he made the best possible use of his rather long legs. He darted out of a side door of the hotel, down the square, and around a corner leading into a back street lined with small shops and dwellings.

"The young fool!" he muttered, as he sped along. "Who would have dreamed of his turning up in such a place as this?"

At last the swindler turned into another street. A car was passing and he hopped aboard this. Not to be seen, he dropped into a seat and crouched down. He rode on the car a distance of a dozen squares and then left, and hurried to a small house setting far back, in a rather neglected garden. The house was to let, and he pretended to be looking it over, and thus passed to a back porch and out of sight.

Nat continued the hunt for the swindler for a good hour and then gave it up.

"Well, how did you make out?" asked the hotel clerk, upon his return.

"He got away from me."

"He put on a pretty good front, if he was a swindler."

"Yes—that's how he came to swindle me and several others," answered our hero.

"Did you report the case to the police?"

"There is no use of doing that."

"Why not? They'll help you all they can."

"That may be true. But by the time my report is in, that rascal will be miles and miles away."

Nevertheless, Nat was persuaded to report to the city authorities before he went to the railroad station. He had missed his train and so had to lay over until three hours later.

This was fortunate for him, for a little later came a telegram from John Garwell, which ran as follows:

"Go to Albany at once and get papers from Caswick & Sampson."

This made Nat change his plans, and he at once found out when a train could be had for Albany. Half an hour later he was aboard of the cars, little dreaming of the surprise in store for him.



CHAPTER XXVIII

A SUDDEN PROPOSAL

After the excitement of the chase was at an end, Nick Smithers had a chance to think matters over, and he concluded to get out of Springfield without delay.

He was much upset because of Nat's unexpected appearance, and the fact that his satchel and belongings were still at the hotel did not tend to add to his good humor.

"I can't go for those things, or send for them," he reasoned. "Confound that boy! Who would ever have dreamed that he would make such trouble for me? I took him for a regular country greeny. But he's as sharp as a razor!"

For a long time matters had been going illy with Nicholas Smithers, alias Hamilton Dart, alias half a dozen other names. He had tried to work one of his swindling schemes in Springfield, but nobody had taken his bait, and his ready funds were consequently running low. When he had money he lived extravagantly, so that his ill-gotten gains never lasted him any great length of time.

"Something must be done, and that pretty soon," he reasoned. "Wonder where I had best go next?"

Before going to Springfield he had had in mind to try Albany, and now he resolved to go to the latter-named city by the first train. This train was the very one upon which Nat was riding, but the swindler did not immediately discover this.

Some miles out of Springfield the train stopped at a small station. The only person in waiting was a young lady handsomely dressed, who did not appear to have any baggage. She got in, and as chance would have it, took a seat close to the swindler.

Nick Smithers had always interested himself in those around him, and he looked the young lady over carefully. She was certainly beautiful, and she appeared to be rich.

"Traveling all alone, eh?" mused the swindler. "And no doubt she has money. Wonder if I could get anything out of her?"

He watched his chance, and when she happened to drop her handkerchief, he promptly picked it up.

"Charming day," said he, with a smile.

"It is indeed beautiful," said the young lady, turning her dark, brilliant eyes full upon the rascal.

"Do you enjoy riding in the cars?" he went on, with another smile.

"I? Well—I—I—What will you say to me when I tell you that now, for the first time, I find myself in the cars?"

"For the first time?" repeated Nick Smithers, in astonishment.

"It is even so," said the young lady. "I do not wonder that you are surprised. I—I presume there are few cases like mine." And she heaved a long sigh.

"Here is certainly a mystery!" thought the confidence man. "Can she have lived all her life in the backwoods, or what? I must investigate this."

"You are surprised?" she said, softly.

"I must confess that I am, madam. Perhaps you have a dislike to cars?"

"No, not in the least."

"Then——" And Nick Smithers paused questioningly.

"I—I—perhaps I had better tell my story," faltered the young lady. "I need a confidant, and I need advice. Can I trust you, sir?"

"You assuredly can," said the swindler, instantly. "If I can be of any service whatever to you, command me."

The young lady glanced around shyly, to see that no other passengers were near.

"I presume I shall have to tell my whole story," went on the young lady. "It is rather long."

"Never mind—we have plenty of time," answered Nick Smithers.

"My father died when I, his only child, was very young. My mother was already dead. My father left a large fortune, estimated at that time, at about a hundred thousand dollars."

"That's some money," thought the swindler. "I hope she has some of it with her."

"Of course, it was necessary to leave me in charge of someone. For this trust my father's brother was selected. He was poor, never having met with the worldly success that crowned my father's efforts. The allowance he received for caring for me and my inheritance was liberal. Shortly after my father died my uncle moved to the town where I boarded the train, living in a house which was a part of my father's estate."

"I understand," said the swindler, nodding. "Go on."

"According to the terms of my father's will my uncle was to have sole charge of my property until I was twenty-five, unless I should before that time get—get married." The young lady blushed. "It was a stupid provision, in one way, for it made my uncle take me to that out-of-the-way place, and practically keep me buried alive, for fear I would get married before I was twenty-five."

"He wanted to hang on to a good thing," said Nick Smithers, with a laugh. "But please proceed."

"At first I did not understand my uncle's motive, but as I grew older my eyes were opened, and at last I resolved to—to—well, to get out of his power."

"And so you ran away, is that it?"

"Yes. This morning I succeeded in eluding my uncle's vigil, and here I am. I came away in such a hurry that I brought with me no extra baggage. No doubt you were surprised to see me enter without so much as an extra wrap."

"I thought you might be going only a short distance."

"I scarcely know where I am going."

"Then you have formed no plans?"

"None whatever. I have not had time, and I know so little of the world. All I care for now is, not to fall into the hands of my uncle until—until——"

"You are twenty-five or married," finished the swindler.

"Exactly."

"May I presume to ask you your present age?"

"Yesterday I was twenty-one."

"Then, legally, you ought to be your own mistress."

"So I thought. That is one thing which gave me the courage to run away."

There was a short spell of silence, during which Nick Smithers did some rapid thinking. He felt that here was a chance to make a round sum of money. If this young lady was rich, it would be a stroke of luck to get her in his power.

So far the swindler had never married. He had once proposed to a fine girl, but she had read him thoroughly, and rejected him. It might not be a bad scheme to propose to the girl before him. He could see that she was very romantic, and he was willing to do almost anything for money.

"I feel honored that you have taken me into your confidence," said he. "Permit me to introduce myself, Lancelot Powers, from Boston. I am traveling for my health."

"I am pleased to know you, Mr. Powers. My name is Clara Rosemead, and my father was Colonel Rosemead, of the International Cable Company."

"I shall consider it my duty to do all I can for you," went on Nick Smithers. "You—you—well, to tell the strict truth, you interest me mightily. In fact, Miss Rosemead, I can't help but love you."

"Oh!"

"I trust that you are not offended?" said the swindler, hastily.

"Oh, no, Mr. Powers. But—I didn't quite expect this. But I—I well, I like you, too." And again the girl bent her dark brilliant eyes on him.

"If you'd marry me you'd make me the happiest man in America!" went on Nick Smithers. "It would be so romantic!" he whispered. "Think of how we met on the cars, and fell in love at sight!"

"It would be romantic!" she clasped her hands together. "I'll do it!"

"Good! It will be a fine thing to outwit this uncle of yours."

"Yes! yes! We must outwit him by all means. If he should learn of what I am doing——"

"He can learn the truth—after we are married, Clara." And then Nick Smithers gave the girl's hand a tight squeeze. Had they been in a more secluded place he would have kissed her.

"I—I—am happy!" she said, softly.

"What do you say to getting married when we reach Albany?" went on the swindler. "Then we can return to your home and demand that your uncle make a settlement."

"I shall do as you think best, Lancelot. I know I can trust you," she answered.

"This is the safest snap yet!" thought Nick Smithers. "Once I get hold of her money I can hold her right under my thumb. She has been kept in such seclusion that she knows absolutely nothing of the world at large. And such a beauty, too! Nick, for once you have certainly struck it rich!"



CHAPTER XXIX

THE CAPTURE OF NICK SMITHERS

During the next half-hour Nick Smithers and the young lady became very confidential. She stated that she had just fifty dollars with her, but did not show the money.

"My uncle is a strange man in some things," she said. "He keeps not less than ten thousand dollars of my money in the house, and all in dollar bills!"

"He certainly must be strange," said Nick Smithers. "Well, it will be an easy matter for him to turn over the bills to you."

"Yes, Lancelot; but you will have to take care of the money for me."

"I'll certainly do that," was the swindler's quick reply, and then he smiled to himself, over the glorious prospect ahead.

There was a dining-car attached to the train, and not long after the conversation recorded above, the swindler asked his bride-to-be if she would not take lunch with him.

"Why, yes," she answered. "I am very hungry, for I have not eaten anything since yesterday."

"Then come at once," was the answer, and Nick Smithers led the way into the dining car. He passed Nat, who was busy devouring a sandwich and a piece of pie, but strange to say neither saw the other.

Nick Smithers and the young lady had just ordered an elaborate lunch, when of a sudden the damsel gave a cry.

"Oh!"

"What is the trouble?" questioned the swindler.

"Do you see that man?" And the young lady pointed to a small individual who had just entered the dining car.

"Yes. What of him?"

"He is my—my uncle!"

"Is it possible? Then he must be following you."

"He is!"

"Well, I shall protect you, so do not fear," whispered Nick Smithers. "Remember, we are to be married to-day. He shall not stop you. He can't do it, for you are twenty-one."

"Oh, Lancelot, I—I am so afraid!"

By this time the small man had reached the table at which the couple were seated. He stared in amazement.

"Hullo, Miss Jacobotson, what are you doing here?" he cried.

"Don't touch me!" screamed the young lady, wildly. "Don't touch me."

"This young lady is under my protection," came loftily from Nick Smithers.

"Really?" said the small man. "Since when?"

"Never mind since when. She is under my protection, and I do not want you to molest her."

"Say, do you know who she is?" asked the little man, curiously.

"I do."

"Well, she has got to go back to the asylum, and that is all there is to it."

"Asylum?" gasped Nick Smithers.

"That is what I said."

"I'll not go back!" screamed the young lady. "Lancelot, protect me!" and she clutched the swindler around the neck.

"Do you mean to tell me she belongs in an asylum?" came faintly from Nick Smithers.

"She does. She escaped from the lunatic asylum at Sarville yesterday."

"Wha—what is her name?"

"Mary Jacobotson. Her mind was turned years ago by reading romantic novels, and she imagines she has an uncle who is keeping her money away from her."

"Is she under the charge of an uncle?"

"No. Her father had her placed in the asylum, for he couldn't keep her at home. Her father is a well-to-do builder of Hartford."

All this time the young lady, who was indeed insane, was clinging tightly to Nick Smithers' neck.

"Don't leave me!" she implored. "I love you! Don't leave me, and you shall have a million dollars and a rubber doll! Don't leave me, Augustus! I implore thee, by the light of yonder stars!" And now she began to rave.

"I—I reckon I made a mistake," said the swindler, much crestfallen. "Let go of me!" And now he pushed the raving girl from him. The train had stopped at a station, and in another moment the asylum keeper had the patient on the platform, where she continued to rave. Then the train moved on.

Sinking back in his seat at the dining-car table, the swindler mopped the beads of perspiration from his forehead with his handkerchief. He was utterly disgusted.

"That is where I certainly put my foot in it," he muttered. "But I can be thankful I didn't marry the girl!"

"Sorry, sar, but you'll have to settle for this lunch," said the waiter.

"If so, I reckon I'll eat it," answered Nick Smithers, and proceeded to do so.

Nat had watched the whole scene with interest. At first he was inclined to confront the swindler without delay, but then reconsidered the matter.

"I must go slow," he mused. "If I'm not careful he'll get away again."

When Nick Smithers left the dining car Nat followed him to the smoker and saw the swindler settle down for a comfortable smoke.

"He isn't going to leave the train just yet," thought our hero. "I shouldn't be surprised if he is bound for Albany. If that's so, I had better wait until we arrive there. Then we'll be in New York State, where the offense was committed."

The train rattled on, and at the proper time rolled into the big station at Albany. Nat kept close behind Nick Smithers and at the same time looked around anxiously to see if he could find a policeman.

It was not long before our hero sighted an officer of the law, gazing curiously at the crowd leaving the train. At once he beckoned the policeman to come to him.

"What's wanted?" asked the officer, anxiously.

"Do you see that man?"

"Yes."

"He is a swindler, who is wanted in New York City for swindling several men and myself. I want him arrested. Be careful how you handle him, for he ran away from me in Springfield."

"You are sure of this?"

"I am positive. But be careful, or he will get away."

"He won't get away from me," said the policeman.

Nick Smithers was hurrying for the street when Nat and the officer of the law came up to him.

"Stop, Nick Smithers!" cried our hero, and caught him by the arm.

The swindler swung around, stared at Nat, and his face fell.

"This is the time you don't get away so easily," went on Nat. "Officer, do your duty."

"You'll have to consider yourself under arrest," said the policeman. "This young man makes a charge against you."

"Why, that young man is a lunatic!" cried Nick Smithers, thinking of his experience on the train. "They let him out of the asylum only day before yesterday."

"Don't you believe a word of it," said Nat. "This rascal is one of the slickest swindlers in the world. Take him to headquarters, and I'll go along and prove every word I say."

"You'll have to come along," said the officer.

"All right, I'll go," answered Nick Smithers, but an instant later he started to run away through the crowd. Nat, however, was on guard, and putting out a foot, he sent the rascal pitching headlong on the depot platform.

"Hi! what did you do that for?" demanded Nick Smithers, on arising. And he glared at our hero as if to eat him up.

"You'll come along with me!" came angrily from the policeman, and without more ceremony he marched the swindler to the police station, with our hero following.



CHAPTER XXX

NAT COMES INTO HIS OWN

Once at the police station, Nat made a charge against Nick Smithers, and then the swindler was asked what he had to say for himself.

"This is all a mistake," he said. "I am not the person."

"He is wanted in Chicago as well as in New York City," went on our hero.

In the meantime another officer had been looking up Nick Smithers' picture in the rogues' gallery.

"I don't think the young man is mistaken," he said. "Wait till I telephone to New York for more particulars."

This was done, and inside of an hour the rascal's identity was fully established. Then Nick Smithers broke down.

"It's all up with me, and I may as well confess," he said, scowling at Nat. "But I must say, I never thought a country boy would run me down."

"Well, you see, I am not quite as green as I used to be," answered Nat, with a faint smile.

"But you missed it by not coming to me on the quiet," went on Nick Smithers. "Had you done so, you might have gotten your hundred dollars back. As it is, you'll not get a cent."

"That remains to be seen," answered our hero.

When Nat could get away from the police station he hurried at once to the law offices of Messrs. Caswick & Sampson, as directed by Mr. Garwell.

"So you are the young man John Garwell telegraphed about," said Mr. Sampson, shaking hands. "I am glad to meet you. The business on hand concerns you personally as well as it concerns your employer."

"Concerns me?" ejaculated Nat, in wonder. "How is that?"

"I am interested in a piece of property located in New York City, near Central Park. By some papers which you turned over to Mr. Garwell it would seem that you are likewise interested in the land."

"Through my grandfather?"

"Yes."

"Then he really owned a share of the land?"

"He did, and so far as Mr. Garwell and I can ascertain he never sold out his claim."

"What is the claim worth?"

"You will have to ask Mr. Garwell about that. He wanted me to sign certain documents, and let you take them to New York to-night. Can you do that?"

"I think I can. But the police may wish to detain me." And then our hero told of the arrest of Nick Smithers. Mr. Sampson became interested, and in the end went to the station with Nat. He knew some of the officials, so our hero had no more trouble.

"We shall send the rascal to New York as soon as the officers down there want him," said one of the police officials; and, later on, this was done.

Not to lose time, our hero took the night train for the metropolis. He had a berth in the sleeper, but it was a long while before he could get to sleep. There were many things to think about, and the question of property near Central Park was an absorbing one.

Arriving in New York, he went to his boarding house for breakfast, and then hurried down to the office. It was not until ten o'clock that John Garwell appeared.

"Did you get the papers from Mr. Sampson?" was his employer's first question.

"Yes, sir."

"And fix up those matters at Springfield, too?"

"Yes, Mr. Garwell, and I did some other things, too," added Nat. "I had that rascal, Hamilton Dart, alias Nick Smithers, arrested."

"Is it possible! Tell me the particulars," and Nat did so. "We must do what we can to get your money back. This chap may have some property somewhere."

"Well, even if I don't get the money back, it's a satisfaction to put him where he belongs," said our hero.

"Perhaps you'll not be so anxious to get that hundred dollars after you've heard what I have to tell, Nat," went on John Garwell, with a quiet smile.

"What have you to tell, Mr. Garwell?"

"It's about that property in which your grandfather and your father were interested."

"Is there a share coming to me?"

"Yes."

"What is it worth?"

"That remains to be learned. The hotel folks want all that tract of land, as I told you. I shall advise you to hold out for sixty thousand dollars."

"Sixty thousand dollars!" gasped Nat, thinking he had not heard aright.

"Yes."

"Do you mean to say that you think my share in that property is worth sixty thousand dollars?"

"Either that or pretty close to it. I would not take a cent less than fifty-five thousand dollars."

"It's a—a fortune!"

"It certainly is a neat sum of money for any lad to fall heir to. I trust, if you do get it, that you invest it wisely."

"I'll do my best to do that, Mr. Garwell. But this—stumps me! Sixty thousand dollars! What will Uncle Abner say when he hears of it!"

"I'm afraid he will be a bit jealous. I'm jealous myself," added the real estate broker, with a twinkle in his eye.

"I know you are not," answered Nat, honestly. "Just the same, sir, if I get that money, you are going to have your full share for helping me get it."

"Well, I shan't object to my regular commission."

"And you are going to have more," added Nat, firmly.

"The way matters have turned out will make that Shanley of Brooklyn sick," continued John Garwell. "And it will make Rufus Cameron sick, too. The business will be transacted entirely through me, and they will not get a cent in commissions."

"Well, I'm glad to get back at Rufus Cameron," answered Nat. "I haven't forgotten how he treated me."

"His aunt will have nothing more to do with him. He has got to support himself."

"I hope it makes a man of him," said our hero.

The next three weeks were busy ones for Nat. He had to appear against Nick Smithers, who was brought to New York, tried, and sentenced to several years in prison. It was found that there was money coming to the swindler, and through this our hero and the others who had put up their money for positions with "Hamilton Dart," received what was coming to them.

"It was great of you to run him down," said the sick man to Nat. "This return of money will please my sister."

"And I am thankful too," added Harry Bray.

The day after Nick Smithers was convicted the deal concerning the property near Central Park was closed. It was shown that a part of the property really belonged to Nat, and the sum of sixty thousand dollars was eventually turned over to the youth for this. But this was not until he was of age.

"Nat's a rich man now," said Abner Balberry, when the youth became twenty-one. "He's got a reg'lar fortune."

"You shall have something of this, Uncle Abner," said our hero, and he gave his uncle five thousand dollars in cash. He also gave the same amount to John Garwell.

In the meantime our hero had stuck close to the real-estate business, and learned it thoroughly. He was still John Garwell's private clerk.

"Are you going to leave me, now you have your fortune?" questioned the real estate broker, anxiously.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No, indeed!"

"How would you like to take me in as a partner, Mr. Garwell?"

"I'd like it first-rate, Nat—in fact, I was going to mention that myself."

"Then let us form a partnership," and this was done without delay. The new firm, prospered from the very start, much to the satisfaction of all concerned.

In the meantime, Nat did not forget his old friends the Talcotts. Although he no longer lived with them, he visited them often. He learned through the widow that her son was anxious to buy out the store in which he worked. The price was twelve hundred dollars, and one day Nat bought it, and had the transfer made out in Dick's name.

"You deserve this, Dick," said he. "When I was a stranger and mighty green you did your best by me."

"Well, you've paid me back," said Dick, with a grin. "You're a gentleman, Nat, you are."

"And how about being green?"

"You're not green any more. You're as smart as they make 'em!"

Since then the years have rolled on. Nat is still in business and is doing well. He has married and settled down in New York City; and here we will leave him.

THE END



The Enterprise Books

Captivating Stories for Boys by Justly Popular Writers

The episodes are graphic, exciting, realistic—the tendency of the tales is to the formation of an honorable and manly character. They are unusually interesting, and convey lessons of pluck, perseverance and manly independence.

12mo. Handsomely illustrated. Printed on excellent paper, and attractively bound in colored cloth, stamped in Colors.

MOFFAT, WILLIAM D. THE CRIMSON BANNER. A Story of College Baseball

Books have been written about college baseball, but it remained for Mr. Moffat, a Princeton man, to come forward with a tale that grips one from start to finish. The students are almost flesh and blood, and the contests become real as we read about them. The best all-around college and baseball tale yet presented.

GRAYDON, WILLIAM MURRAY CANOE BOYS AND CAMP FIRES. Or, Adventures in Winding Waters

Where is there a youth who does not love a gun, a fishing rod, a canoe, or a roaring camp-fire? In this book we have the doings of several bright and lively boys, who go on a canoeing trip on a winding stream, and meet with many exciting happenings. The breath of the forest blows through this tale, and every boy who reads it will be sorry that he was not a member of the canoe club that took that never-to-be-forgotten outing.

HARKNESS, PETER T. ANDY, THE ACROBAT. Or, With the Greatest Show on Earth

Andy is as a bright as a silver dollar. In the book we can smell the sawdust, hear the flapping of the big white canvas and the roaring of the lions, and listen to the merry "hoop la!" of the clown.

FOSTER, W. BERT THE QUEST OF THE SILVER SWAN. A Tale of Ocean Adventure

A Youth's story of the deep blue sea—of the search for a derelict carrying a fortune. Brandon Tarr is a manly lad, and all lads will be eager to learn whether he failed or succeeded in his mission.

WHITE, MATTHEW, JR. TWO BOYS AND A FORTUNE. Or, The Tyler Will

If you had been poor and were suddenly left a half-million dollars, what would you do with it? Do you think the money would bring you happiness, or would it bring only increased cares? That was the problem that confronted the Pell family, and especially the twin brothers, Rex and Roy. A strong, helpful story, that should be read by every boy and every young man in our land.

WINFIELD, ARTHUR M. BOB, THE PHOTOGRAPHER. Or, A Hero in Spite of Himself

Relates the experiences of a poor boy who falls in with a "camera fiend," and develops a liking for photography. After a number of stirring adventures Bob becomes photographer for a railroad, and while taking pictures along the line thwarts the plan of those who would injure the railroad corporation and incidentally clears a mystery surrounding his parentage.

ROCKWOOD, ROY JACK NORTH'S TREASURE HUNT. A Story of South American Adventure

Jack is sent to South America on a business trip, and while there he hears of the wonderful treasure of the Incas located in the Andes. He learns also of a lake that appears and disappears. He resolves to investigate, and organizes an expedition for that purpose. The book is a thriller.

BONEHILL, CAPTAIN RALPH LOST IN THE LAND OF ICE. Or, Daring Adventures Round the South Pole

An expedition is fitted out by a rich young man who loves the ocean, and with him goes the hero of the tale, a lad who has some knowledge of a treasure ship said to be cast away in the land of ice. On the way the expedition is stopped by enemies, and the heroes land among the wild Indians of Patagonia. When the ship approaches the South Pole it is caught in a huge iceberg, and several of those on board become truly lost in the land of ice.

THE END