"Wait a minute!" again called the boy from the ranch.

"What's the matter now?"

"I want to sort of get my bearings. This is a new trail to me, and I'd like to get the lay of the land. Say, what's all the stampede about? These folks are milling, ain't they?"

"Stampede? This isn't a stampede. They're in a rush to get the ferry boat. What do you mean by milling?"

"Why they're like cattle going around and around, and they don't seem to be getting anywhere."

"Oh, that's it, eh, my dear chap. Well, they're all anxious to get to New York, that's why they're rushing so. Come on or we'll miss the boat."

Mortimer De Royster led the way through the ferry house, and out on the boat. He took a seat in the ladies' cabin, and Roy sat down beside him. The dude had bought a paper, which he was glancing over, momentarily paying no attention to Roy.

Suddenly the boy from the ranch, who was looking about him with curious eyes, jumped up and exclaimed:

"Something's the matter. The depot has been cut loose!"

"Cut loose? What do you mean?"

"Why, we're afloat! There's water outside."

"Of course, my dear fellow. We're on the ferry boat, crossing to New York. What did yew think?"

"Are we on a boat?"

"Certainly. Where did you think you were?"

"I thought we were in the depot room, waiting for the boat to come in."

"Why, no. This is the boat. But of course the approach to it is through the depot, and it is hard to tell exactly where the dock leaves off and the boat begins. I should have told you, but I got interested in the paper."

"I was a little startled at first," admitted Roy with a smile. "I thought something had happened."

Several passengers who had heard this exclamation, were also smiling, but Roy did not mind this. Everything was so strange and novel that he wanted to see it all at once. It was no wonder that he mistook the boat for the waiting room of the station, as the ferry boat was so broad, and the cabin so large, that often strangers are deceived that way.

De Royster soon took Roy out on the lower deck, and showed him New York, lying across the Hudson river, the sky-scrapers towering above the water line, the various boats plying to and fro, and the great harbor.

"It's wonderful! Wonderful!" exclaimed the boy from the ranch. "It's different from what I expected. I never even dreamed New York was like this."

"Wait; you haven't begun to see it."

And, a little later, when they landed, and were crossing West street, with its congested traffic, Roy began to think his companion was right.

For a moment the noise and excitement confused the boy. There were two long lines of vehicles, mostly great trucks and drays, going up and down, for West street is on the water front, adjoining the docks where the steamships come in, and the wagons cart goods to and from them.

Then there was a big throng of people, hurrying to and from the ferries, several of which came in close together. The people all seemed in a rush, a trait, which Roy was soon to discover, affected nearly every one in New York. He saw policemen standing on the crossings, and, whenever the officer held up his hand, the travel of the vehicles stopped as if by magic, leaving a lane for pedestrians to cross.

"He's got them pretty well trained," observed Roy.

"Yes, he belongs to the traffic squad. Any driver who refused to do as the officer says, will be arrested. But come on. I want to take you to your hotel."

Trying to see everything at once, Roy followed his new friend. Suddenly, as he was in the midst of a press of wagons, men and women, in the middle of the street, he heard a cry:

"Runaway! Runaway! Horse is coming! Look out!"

Instantly the policeman began shoving people to one side, to get them out of the path of the runaway. Truck drivers began pulling their steeds to either curb. Roy looked down the street and saw a horse, attached to a cab, coming on at a gallop. Thanks to the prompt action of other drivers the runaway had a clear field.

"Look out!" shouted the officer. "Hey there, young man!" to Roy. "Git out of the street!"

But Roy had other intentions. He handed his valise to De Royster, who was vainly pulling him by the arm.

"Come on out of here!" cried De Royster. "You'll get run over."

"Take my satchel," said Roy.

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to stop that horse!"

"You'll be killed!"

"Say, I guess I know how to handle horses. It won't be the first one I've caught!"

Mortimer De Royster, giving one more look at the maddened animal, which was now close at hand, made a leap for the sidewalk. Roy looked up, gauged the distance, and, to his horror saw that the cab contained a lady and a little girl. There was no driver on the seat.

"Look out! You'll be killed!" shouted several in the crowd.

"The boy's crazy!" muttered the policeman He took a step forward, as if to drag Roy out of the way.

The next instant the boy had made a leap, just as the horse reached him. It was a leap to one side, but not to get out of the way. It was only to escape the flying hoofs, for, an instant later, Roy had the plunging horse by the bridle, and was hanging on for dear life.



CHAPTER XII

AT THE HOTEL

There were confused shouts from the crowd. Several men rushed forward, in spite of the efforts of the officer to hold them back. Women screamed, and several fainted.

The horse was rearing and kicking, but Roy, plucky lad that he was, held on like grim death.

With one hand firmly grasping the bridle, he reached up with the other, and clasped the nostrils of the horse in a tight grip. This served to prevent the horse from breathing well, and, as his lungs needed plenty of air, on account of his fast run, the animal probably concluded he had met his master.

"That's right! Hold him!" called a man. "I'll help you in a minute!"

"I guess I can manage him now," said Roy calmly. "There now, old fellow," he went on, speaking soothingly to the horse. The animal was having hard work to breathe. Roy saw this and loosened his hold slightly. Then he began to pat the horse, continuing to speak to it. The animal, which was more frightened than vicious, began to calm down.

"I've got him!" exclaimed the policeman, coming up and taking hold of the bridle.

"Oh, he's all right now; aren't you, old fellow?" spoke Roy, as he rubbed the horse's muzzle.

Indeed the animal did seem to be. His dangerous hoofs were still, and, though he trembled a bit, he was quieting down.

"That was a fine catch, my lad," remarked one man. "Where did you learn to stop runaway horses?"

"Out on my father's ranch in Colorado. This is nothing. We have a runaway every day out there. I've often caught 'em."

"Then the city ought to hire a few lads like you to give some of our policemen lessons," went on the man, with a meaning glance at the officer.

"Come now, move on. Don't collect a crowd," spoke the bluecoat gruffly. He was a little bit ashamed that he had not made an attempt to stop the horse, but it was due more to thoughtlessness than to actual fear. Besides, he first considered getting the women out of harm's way.

"It was a brave act," went on the man. "I'd like to shake hands with you, young man."

He extended his hand which Roy, blushing at the praise, accepted.

"Here, I want to get in on that," exclaimed another man, and soon as many as could crowd around Roy were shaking hands with him, while murmurs of admiration were heard on all sides.

Meanwhile the lady in the cab was being assisted out by a gentleman. Then she took her little girl in her arms. The child spoke, in a high clear voice, that could be heard above the noise of traffic, which had started up again, when it was seen that the runaway was stopped.

"Mother, is that the boy who caught the naughty horsie?"

"Yes, dear, mother wants to thank him."

"So do I, mother. And I want to kiss him for stopping the bad horsie that scared Mary."

There was a laugh at this, and Roy blushed deeper than ever.

"Come on," he said to Mortimer De Royster, who had made his way to his side. "Let's get out of this. Anybody would think I was giving a Wild-West exhibition."

"Well, that's pretty near what it was. I never saw a runaway better stopped, and I've seen some of our best policemen try it. You certainly know how to manage horses."

"Even if I don't know when I'm on a ferry boat," added Roy with a laugh. "But it would be a wonder if I didn't know something about cattle. I've been among 'em all my life."

"Excuse me, sir," spoke the lady who had been in the cab. "I want to thank you for what you did," and she extended her hand, encased in a neat glove.

Roy instinctively held out his hand, and then he drew it back. He noted that it was covered with foam and mud, where the horse had splashed it up on the bridle which he grasped. He had not noticed this when the men congratulated him. The lady saw his hesitation and exclaimed:

"What? You hesitate on account of not wanting to soil my gloves? There!" and before Roy could stop her she had grasped both his hands in her own, practically ruining her new gloves, for his left hand was more dirty than was his right. "What do I care for my gloves?" she exclaimed.

"Can't I kiss the nice boy, mother?" pleaded the little girl, whom her parent had placed on the crosswalk, close beside her.

There was another laugh, but Roy was not going to mind that. Though he had no brothers or sisters, he was very fond of children. The next instant he had stooped over and kissed the little girl.

Once more the crowd laughed, but in a friendly way, for Roy was a lad after the heart of every New Yorker—brave, fearless, yet kind.

"I can't begin to thank you," went on the lady. "But for you, Mary and I might have been killed."

"Oh, I guess the horse would have slowed up pretty soon, ma'am," replied Roy.

"Now don't make light of it," urged the lady. "I wish you would call at my home, and see us. My husband will want to add his thanks to mine. Here is our address."

She gave Roy a card on which was engraved the name, "Mrs. Jonathan Rynear," and the address was uptown in New York.

"The horse took fright when the cabman got down to get something for me in a store," she said, "and ran away before any one could stop him. I can drive horses, but I could not reach the reins of this one, and I dared not let go of my little girl. Now I want you to be sure and come. Will you?"

"Yes, ma'am," spoke Roy, and then, when Mrs. Rynear had shaken hands with him again, Roy managed to make his way through the crowd, and, accompanied by De Royster, he started up the street.

"Well, your entrance to New York is rather theatrical," observed Mortimer De Royster. "You'll get into the papers, first thing you know, really you will, my dear fellow."

"That's just where I don't want to get," said Roy quickly, as he thought that his mission might not be so well accomplished, if Mr. Annister read of the arrival in New York, of the son of the man whose agent he was. "How can it get in the papers?"

"Why, the reporters are all over New York. They'll hear of this in some way, or the policeman will tell them. Besides, the policeman has to report all such happenings on his post, and the reporters to go to the police station in search of news."

"But how will they know I did it?"

"That's so. I don't believe they will, old chap. You didn't give the lady your name."

"No, and I'm glad of it."

"Why; don't you want any one to know you're in New York?"

"Well, not right away. I have certain reasons for it. Later it may make no difference. But I guess the reporters are not liable to know it was me."

"No, perhaps not. The policeman may claim the credit of stopping the runaway. Some of 'em do, so as to get promotion more quickly."

"It wasn't much of a job to stop that runaway."

"Wasn't it? Well, it looked so to me, and I guess it did to the rest of the crowd. But you're all mud. The horse must have splashed you. However you'll soon be at your hotel. We'll take a train."

Still quite bewildered by the noise and confusion Roy followed De Royster up a flight of steps, not knowing where he was going. The next he knew was that his friend had dropped two tickets into the box of the elevated station, and they were waiting for an uptown train. Presently it came along, making the station and track rock and sway with the vibration.

"Come on," cried De Royster.

"Where are you going?" asked Roy, hanging back.

"On the elevated train, of course."

"It isn't safe!" exclaimed the boy from the ranch. "It is shaking now. It'll topple down! It needs bracing! Do you mean to tell me they run trains up in the air, on a track, and they don't fall off?"

"Of course. Come on. It's safe, even if it does shake a bit. It always does. There's no danger of it falling off. Next time we'll take the subway."

"All aboard! Step lively!" cried the guard at the gate, and Roy, with some misgivings, followed his friend.

The ride, on a level with the second-story windows of the buildings, was a great novelty to the boy from the ranch and he soon got over his feeling of nervousness in looking out at the strange sights on every hand.

"Here we are!" exclaimed De Royster at length. "I'll take you to the hotel."

They got out, walked down a flight of steps, and soon were in front of a good, though not showy hotel. In spite of the fact that it was not one of the most fashionable in New York, the magnificence of the entrance, with its rich hangings, the marble ornamentation, the electric lights and the stained glass, made Roy wonder if his friend had not made some mistake. It seemed more like the home of some millionaire, than a public hotel.

"Go ahead; I'll be right with you," called De Royster, as he showed Roy into the lobby. "I want to speak to a gentleman a moment."

Somewhat bewildered, Roy advanced into the middle of the lobby, with its marble floor. Though he was not aware of it, he made rather a queer figure, with his clothes of unstylish cut, his travel-stained appearance, the mud on his hands and garments, and his general air of being a stranger, totally unused to New York ways.

"Well, what do you want?" suddenly exclaimed the voice of a boy in a uniform that seemed to consist of nothing but brass buttons. "We don't allow peddlers in here!"



CHAPTER XIII

A VISIT TO MR. ANNISTER

Roy turned and looked at the boy who had made the somewhat insulting remark.

"I beg your pardon, stranger," he replied in his western drawl. "I didn't quite catch your remark."

"Aw, come off!" slangily replied the brass-buttoned boy, one of many in the hotel employed to show guests to their rooms whenever summoned by a bell rung by the clerk. "What are you, anyhow? Selling patent medicine or some Indian cure?" For Roy plainly showed the effect of his western life, his hair being a little longer than it is worn in the east, his clothes rather too large for him, and his broad-brimmed hat quite conspicuous.

"So you think I'm rustling medicine, eh?" he asked the boy.

"I don't know what you're 'rustling' but I know if you try to sell anything in this joint, you'll get the poke, see!"

Roy began to think the language of the East was almost as effective as that of the West in expressing ideas.

"I'm not selling medicine, stranger," Roy went on, using the term he had picked up among the cowboys when they meet one whom they do not know. "I'm going to put up at this bunk-house, I reckon."

"That's a good one!" exclaimed the boy with a laugh. "What Wild West show are you from? This is no theatrical boarding house. Better beat it out of here before the clerk sees you."

But the talk between the two boys had been overheard by the clerk, who, in a hotel, holds authority next to the owner.

"What's the trouble there, Number twenty-six?" he asked, addressing the bell boy.

"Aw, here's a guy what t'inks he's goin' to stay here an' sell patent medicines," replied the boy.

"What's that? Of course we don't allow any peddling schemes in the hotel. Send him out."

"I did, but he won't go."

"Your boy is mistaken, stranger," replied Roy, walking up to the desk, and looking around for Mortimer De Royster, who, it seemed, had been delayed in speaking to a friend. Several men in the hotel lobby drew near and listened with interest to what was going on. "I came here to put up at this hotel," went on Roy. "I was sent here by a friend of mine."

"We don't take theatrical people," said the clerk, stiffly.

"I'm not from a theatre. I tell you my friend sent me here. He'll be here himself in a minute."

The clerk did not look very much impressed, and Roy feared he was going to order him out of the hotel. The boy did not want to be thus publicly put to shame.

"Who's your friend?" asked the clerk.

"Mr. Mortimer De Royster."

"Oh, that's all right!" exclaimed the clerk with a great change of manner. "Any friend of Mr. De Royster is welcome. Boy, take the gentleman's grip. What sort of a room would you like?"

The bell boy, who had thought to put Roy out of the place, was obliged much against his will to take his valise.

"That's all right," said Roy good-naturedly to the boy. "I can carry my baggage. It isn't heavy. I don't know that I'm going to stop here after all. I think—"

Just then De Royster came pushing his way through the little crowd about the desk.

"Hello, Charlie!" he exclaimed, addressing the clerk. "How are you, old chap? Looking fine, upon my word!"

"Good afternoon, Mr. De Royster," replied the clerk cordially, extending his hand. "Glad to see you. So you're back from your trip?"

"Yes, but I came pretty near not coming. Might not be alive if it wasn't for my friend, Mr. Bradner, here. By the way, I want you to give him the best in the house. He's a great friend of mine. Treat him well."

"Of course we shall. We were just going to give him a good room—er—ahem, Mr. Bradner, will you please register?" and he swung the book around on the desk, dipping a pen in an ink bottle at the same time.

Roy hesitated, and smiled just a little. He was contrasting the treatment he might have received if Mr. De Royster had not been there.

"What's the matter?" asked the jewelry salesman, seeing that something unusual had taken place.

"Oh, nothing much," replied Roy. "They took me for a member of a Wild West show, I guess, and they were a little doubtful whether they'd let me bunk here or not."

"Ahem! All a mistake! It was the bell boy's fault," said the clerk, somewhat embarrassed.

"Here, Number twenty-six, take the gentleman's grip. Any friend of yours, Mr. De Royster, is doubly welcome here. We can give you a fine room, Mr. Bradner."

"All right," replied Roy, good naturedly. "I'll take one."

"I'll select it for you," put in Mr. De Royster, as he was in some doubt as to Roy's finances, and he did not want to take too extravagant an apartment.

Roy was soon shown to a pleasant room, Mortimer accompanying him. Every one connected with the hotel seemed anxious to aid the boy from the ranch, now that it was shown he had wealthy friends. Roy thought De Royster must be a person of some influence. He was partly right, though the influence came more from the rich and respected relatives of the young jewelry salesman, than from himself. However, it answered the same purpose.

"I am sorry you were annoyed by that clerk, my dear chap," said De Royster, when he was seated in the room he had selected for Roy. "I was unavoidably detained, speaking to a friend I met, don't you know."

"It's all right," replied Roy. "It all adds to my experience, and I expect to get a lot of it while I'm in the East."

"What are your next plans?"

"Well, I hardly know. I have certain business to do for my father, but I hardly know how to set about it."

"Perhaps I can tell you."

"I wish you could."

"If it is a secret don't tell me," said De Royster, noting that Roy hesitated.

"It is a sort of a secret mission. I'm here to round up a man, and see what sort of branding marks he has on him—that is, whether he's honest or not."

"That is a queer mission for a boy like you to be sent on."

"Perhaps, but my father had no one else. I will tell you as much as I can, and see what you have to say."

Thereupon Roy told his friend about the real estate matter, and Mr. Annister's connection with it, though he mentioned no names.

"Let me consider it a bit," said the dude, when Roy had finished. The latter began to think his friend was more capable than had at first appeared, and, in spite of his rather affected talk, could be relied upon for good advice.

"Here is what I would do, in your place," said De Royster, at length. "I would get my hair cut, order a new suit of clothes or perhaps two and appear as much as possible like a New Yorker, don't you know. You say you don't want that man to know you are here from the ranch. Well, he certainly would if you appeared before him as you are now. But, if you—er—well, we'll say 'spruce up' a bit, you can be sure he'll never connect you with the West. Then you can make whatever inquiries you like."

"That's good advice. I'll follow it. I'm much obliged to you."

"Don't mention it, my dear chap. Now, old man"—(Roy thought it was strange to be addressed as "old man")—"I've got to go. I'll leave you my card, and address, and, if you get into trouble, why, telephone or call on me. Now, good luck."

He shook hands with Roy and left. The boy from the ranch was a little lonesome after De Royster had gone, but he knew he would from now on, very probably have to rely on himself, and he decided to start in at once.

After supper he went to the hotel barber shop, and had his hair cut to the length it was worn by New Yorkers. He wanted to go out and get a new suit, but he knew the clothing stores would not be open at night.

His trunk arrived the next morning, and, having arranged his things in his room, the boy from the ranch set out to buy some new garments, following De Royster's advice.

"Well, I certainly don't look like a cowboy now," thought Roy, as he surveyed himself in the glass, after the change. "Now to call on Mr. Annister. I don't believe he'll suspect me of being on his trail."

A little later Roy was on his way down-town, having inquired from the clerk how to get to the office of the real estate agent. He was soon at the place, a big office building, in which several firms had their quarters.

He got in the express elevator, which went up at a speed that took away his breath, and was let out at the twentieth floor, where the real estate agent had his rooms.

"Is Mr. Annister in?" Roy asked the office boy.

"I don't know. What's your business?"

"My business is with Mr. Annister."

"What's your name?"

"That doesn't matter. Tell Mr. Annister I called to see him regarding the renting of some property on Bleecker street," for that was where the building was located in which Roy and his father were interested.

"All right. I'll tell him, but I don't believe he'll see you," replied the office boy, not very good-naturedly, as he went into an inner room. In a little while he returned and said:

"Walk in. He'll see you a few minutes, but he's very busy."

A few seconds later Roy stood in the presence of Caleb Annister.



CHAPTER XIV

ROY'S TRICK

"What can I do for you, sir?" asked the real estate agent as Roy entered. "Take a chair."

Caleb Annister had been a little curious to see the young man whom his office boy described. He could not imagine what was wanted, but he scented a possible customer to engage some of the offices in the structure, for which he collected the rents.

"I want to make some inquiries regarding an office in your Bleeker street building," said Roy, for such was the designation of the property in question.

"Ah, yes. You are going to open an office, perhaps?"

"I may." This was the truth as Roy's father had said, if the agent was found to be dishonest, a new one, with an office in the Bleecker street building might be engaged.

"Aren't you rather young to go in business?"

"Perhaps, but I am representing other persons. Have you any offices to rent in that building?"

"A few."

"What do they rent for?"

It was Roy's idea to make inquiries in the guise of a possible tenant, and, see what prices Mr. Annister was charging. What his next move was you shall very soon see.

"Well, young man, rents are very high in that building. It is in a good neighborhood, where property is increasing in value all the while, and we have to charge high rents. Besides there is a good demand for offices there."

This, Roy thought, was not the sort of information Mr. Annister had sent to Mr. Bradner at the ranch.

"Do you own the building?" asked the western lad, wanting to see what the agent would say.

"No, but I am in full charge. It would be no use for you to see the owner, as he leaves everything to me. He would not give you any lower rent rate than I would. Besides, he lives away out West, and never comes to New York."

"Can you give me an idea of what the rents are for such offices as are vacant?" asked Roy, trying not to let any Western expressions slip into his talk, as he wanted to pose as a New Yorker.

"Is it for yourself?"

"No, for parties I represent."

"I can give you a list of such offices as are vacant, with the prices, and you can go and see them. The janitor will show them to you, if I send him a note."

"That will do very well."

Caleb Annister went over some books, and soon handed Roy a list of room numbers, with the prices at which they rented by the month. It needed but a glance at the list, and a rapid calculation on the part of Roy, who was quick at figures, to see that if the entire building rented in the same proportion, the income from it was much larger than what his father was receiving. Clearly there was something wrong, and he must find out where it was.

"I shall look at these offices," he said, "and let you know whether or not they will suit my friend."

"What is the name?" asked Mr. Annister, preparing to write a note to the janitor.

Now Roy was "up against it" as he put it. He did not want to give his name, or Mr. Annister would suspect something at once, and, possibly, put some obstacles in his way. Nor did he want to tell an untruth, and give a false name. Finally he saw a way out of the difficulty.

He decided to give De Royster's name, as he had an idea that if Mr. Annister proved to be dishonest, as it seemed he was, the young jewelry salesman could be induced to take the agency of the building, at least until he had to begin his travels again. To do this De Royster would need an office in the building, so it would be no untruth for Roy to give his name, and say he was looking for apartments for him. He knew his friend would consent. So he said:

"You may make out the note in the name of Mortimer De Royster."

"De Royster? That is a good name. I know some of the family."

Mr. Annister wrote the note, and gave it to Roy, not asking his name. In fact, the real estate man took his caller to be an office boy for Mr. De Royster, for business men in New York frequently send their office helpers on errands of importance, and this was no more than the average office boy could do.

With the note Roy went to the Bleecker Building, as it was called. He found the janitor, who readily showed him the vacant offices.

"Aren't rents rather high here?" asked Roy.

"That's what they are. But this is a good location for business men, and they're willing to pay for it," answered the man.

"Have you no cheaper offices than these?"

"No. In fact all the others cost more. Some men have several rooms, and they pay a good price."

"How many offices, or sets of offices, have you in this building? I should think it would keep you busy looking after them."

"It does," replied the janitor, who, like others of his class, liked a chance to complain of how hard they worked. "There are more than a hundred offices in this building."

"And are most of them rented?"

"All but the five I showed you. I tell you the man who owns this building has a fine thing out of it. He must make a lot over his expenses."

"Who owns it?" asked Roy, wanting to see how much the janitor knew.

"I couldn't tell you. Mr. Annister never told me. He hires me. I guess he must have an interest in the property."

"Yes, entirely too much of an interest in it," thought Roy. "He has some of my interest, and I'm going to get it back."

There was one thing more he wanted to know.

"Are the tenants good pay?" he asked.

"They have to be, young man. If they get behind a month Mr. Annister puts them out. That's why those five offices are vacant. But they'll soon be rented. You'd better hurry if you want one."

"My friend will think it over," answered the boy from the ranch.

He had found out what he wanted to know. The property, instead of decreasing in value as Mr. Annister had said, was increasing. Nearly every office was rented at a good price, and the tenants were prompt pay, save in a few instances. It did not require much calculation to see that the income from the property was nearly double what Mr. Annister reported it to be to Mr. Bradner. That meant but one thing. The dishonest agent was keeping part of the rent for himself, and sending false reports to Roy's father.

But it was one thing to know this, and another to prove it. Roy left the building, thanking the janitor for his trouble, and started back toward Mr. Annister's office.

"I wonder what I had better do?" he thought.



CHAPTER XV

CALEB ANNISTER IS SURPRISED

Perhaps, if Mr. Bradner had known just the extent of the rascality of his agent, he might not have sent Roy to investigate. But, at the worst, he only imagined that perhaps the man might be careless in collecting the rents, which would account for the small income from the property.

Roy certainly had a difficult task before him, and he hardly knew how to undertake it. Should he confront Caleb Annister with the evidence of his dishonesty, or would it be better to wait a while? He had all the proof he needed; but what would be the outcome? That was what puzzled Roy.

Finally, with a decision characteristic of him, and following his nature, which was influenced by the openness of action associated with the West, he made up his mind.

"I'll go right back and see him," reasoned the boy, "tell him who I am, show him that I know he's been cheating us, and demand that he make good the money he has taken. Then I'll see how he acts. If he pays back the rent money he has retained I guess dad will not be hard on him. If he doesn't—"

Roy knew his father was a man who would have his rights if there was any way of getting them. He had half a notion to telegraph his father for instructions, but he wanted to do the work all alone, if he could.

When he got back to the office where Mr. Annister had his rooms, the boy in the outer apartment did not stop Roy to ask him his business. He at once announced him to the agent, who told Roy to come in. The boy from the ranch nerved himself for what was coming. He felt just as he used to when, for the first time, he mounted a new bucking bronco. There was no telling just what the animal would do. Likewise he did not know how Caleb Annister would act when he exposed his rascality.

"Well, did you see the offices?" asked the real estate man.

"Yes, sir."

"Did you like them? We think they are the best in New York."

"They are very fine. The rents are higher than I thought to find them."

"Perhaps, but you must know there is a good demand for offices in that neighborhood. I could have rented them several times, since they were vacant, but I wanted to get good tenants, who would pay."

"You have no cheaper offices you could let Mr. De Royster have?"

"None. In fact I am thinking of raising the rents of those."

Roy wondered if he and his father would get any of the increase.

"That property must be quite valuable," he went on.

"It is."

Roy now felt that the real estate agent had convicted himself. There was need of no further evidence. It was time to make the disclosure.

"Mr. Annister," said Roy. "Perhaps I had better introduce myself. Here is my card."

He handed over one on which he had written his name, and the address of his father's ranch, as well as that of the hotel where he was stopping.

For a moment the agent did not know what to do, as he looked at the bit of pasteboard. His face became pale, then red, then pale again. Next he smiled, in a sickly sort of way.

"So you are Roy Bradner, son of James Bradner, eh?" he asked, slowly.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, that's—that's a pretty good joke," went on the agent. "A pretty good joke."

Roy could not quite see it.

"You come East here, and pretend to want an office in the building your father owns, and you take me in completely. That is a good joke. But I see what you are after."

"That will save a lot of explanation then, Mr. Annister."

"I see what you want," the agent went on. "You wanted to find out in a quiet way, if I was properly looking after your father's property. So you come here, and don't let me know who you are. It's a good joke. But I guess you found I was looking after your interests; didn't you? You found me faithful to my trust. Now you can go back and tell your father that I am looking well after his affairs. That's what you can do. When are you going back?"

"I don't know!" exclaimed Roy boldly, "but when I do go back I will tell my father that you are a swindler, and that you are cheating him—and me also—out of our rent money."

"What's that?" cried Mr. Annister, his face fairly purple with rage. "You dare call me a swindler! I'll have you arrested for insulting me! Leave my office at once! How dare you address me in that manner?"

"I dare because I'm right," replied Roy coolly. "You can't bluff me, Mr. Annister. I see through your game. I now demand that you pay back all the money you have retained, or I shall make a complaint against you."

The bold and fearless bearing of the boy had its effect on the real estate agent. He saw he had to deal with a lad, who, if he had had no previous business experience, was capable of looking after his own interests.

"Perhaps you will kindly explain," said the agent, in a tone he meant to be sarcastic, but which did not deceive Roy.

"Certainly. I accuse you of charging high rents for the offices in the Bleecker Building, and with sending my father only about half of what you collect!"

"Oh! So that's the game; is it?" asked the agent, with a sneer. "Perhaps you know how much I take in as rent for the offices in that building?"

"I can pretty nearly figure it out," and Roy mentioned a sum that was so near the mark that Mr. Annister was startled.

"And perhaps you know what the expenses are, the taxes, the water rent, the insurance and so forth?"

"No, but I know what you charged my father for those items, and, taking them out, at your figures, and also your commission, it would leave a larger sum than we ever received."

Mr. Annister saw that he was dealing with no novice, even if the lad was from the western ranch. He resolved to proceed on a different plan.

"You may think yourself very smart," he said to Roy, "but you do not understand New York real estate."

"I understand enough for this case, I think."

"I'm afraid not," and the agent smiled. He was beginning to get command of his nerves. "You see there are many expenses you do not know of."

"You never mentioned them to my father."

"No, I could not. Besides, how do I know that your father sent you to make these inquiries? I do not even know you are Roy Bradner. You may be an impostor."

"I think I can soon prove to you who I am. As for my authority, there is a letter from my father to you, instructing you to turn this business over to me at my demand."

He handed Mr. Annister a letter to this effect written by Mr. Bradner, and properly executed before a notary public. The rascally agent knew the signature of Mr. Bradner only too well.

But he was not going to give up so easily.

"Any one can write a letter, and forge a signature," he said.

"Then you think I forged my father's name?" and a dangerous look came into Roy's eyes. It was a look such as that when he stopped the runaway horse.

"I don't care to have any further conversation with you," said Mr. Annister, sneeringly. "I do not recognize your authority. How do I know you are Roy Bradner? You will have to bring me better proof than this. Besides, even if you are who you say you are, that does not say you understand this renting business. It is very complicated. There are many charges I have to meet which makes the amounts received for rent much less than you have figured. Besides, the property is in bad shape, it needs repairs, and it is going down in value."

"You said a little while ago that it was increasing."

The agent started. He saw he had made a mistake.

"Oh, well," he said impatiently. "You are only a boy; you can't understand it."

"I may be only a boy, but I think I understand what is going on, and that is that you are cheating my father and me. I was in the building to-day. It is in excellent repair."

"Don't you dare accuse me of cheating!" exclaimed Mr. Annister, but his tone was not as blustering as it had been.

"I believe that is the truth."

"What do you intend to do?" inquired the agent, as he saw that Roy was firm. "Not that it makes any difference to me, for I shall communicate with your father, but I do not want you to come here and annoy me."

He was beginning to be afraid of what Roy might disclose.

"I intend to make you return the money you have unlawfully retained. I believe it is called embezzling, and is a criminal offense. But I will give you a little time. I shall call here a week from to-day. If, by that time, you do not have what I consider a proper sum ready to send to my father I shall consult with the police."

"Pooh! The police will never interfere. This is a civil matter—not criminal."

"I think it is criminal. But I will wait one week. In the meanwhile I shall write to my father and see what he advises me to do. But I shall report all the facts in the case."

"Get out of my office!" exclaimed the now angry and frightened real estate agent. "I believe you are an impostor. If you annoy me again I shall have you arrested!"



"I'll leave your office, because I have finished my business with you, and not because I am afraid of arrest," answered Roy coolly. "You know I am not an impostor. I can prove who I am. I shall call on you again in a week," and he went out in time to surprise the office boy with his ear at the key hole, listening to what was going on.

"Cracky!" exclaimed the little lad, when Roy had gone out. "He certainly talked to the boss like a Dutch Uncle."

Meanwhile Mr. Annister sat in his office chair, much disturbed in his mind. He was in great alarm, for he knew Roy was no impostor.

"What am I going to do?" he asked himself. "He has found me out!"

He sat biting his nails nervously, his eyes roving about his office, as if seeking some way of escape from the trouble he was in. Suddenly an idea came to him.

"I must get that boy out of the way," he said in a low whisper, which even the office lad could not hear. "He knows too much. He is too smart. And I must act promptly. If I can get him out of the way for two weeks, and before he has a chance to hear from his father, the property will be mine, and I can defy them all. That's what I'll do. I'll get him out of the way!"



CHAPTER XVI

SOME NEW EXPERIENCES

Roy passed out through the outer rooms of Caleb Annister's suite of offices. He noted the eavesdropping act of the boy, but said nothing to the small chap, who seemed much embarrassed. Then Roy, with his head somewhat in a whirl over what he had just gone through, went into the tiled corridor.

He got into an elevator, but, no sooner had the attendant closed the iron-grilled door than the car seemed to fall to the bottom of the elevator well with a sickening suddenness.

"Look out!" cried the boy from the ranch, startled out of his reverie concerning Mr. Annister, by the fear that the car had broken from the cable. "She's going to smash!" he cried.

Down, down, down fell the car, but, to Roy's surprise no one seemed to mind it. To him it felt, as he expressed it, "as if the bottom had dropped out of his stomach."

Roy clung to one side of the iron grating which formed the car. Every moment he expected the cage to be dashed to pieces. Then some one laughed. Roy knew something was going on that he didn't understand.

A moment later the car came to a gradual stop, amid a hissing of air.

"Say, stranger, does it often break loose and go on a stampede that way?" asked Roy of the attendant who opened the door at the ground floor.

"What's the matter? Did it scare you?"

"Well, it was a pretty good imitation of it," replied Roy, while the other passengers broke into laughter. "I sure thought I was going to China. What was the matter?"

"Nothing. This is an express elevator, and it drops from the twentieth story to the ground in about fifteen seconds. It lands into an air chamber, as soft as a piece of rubber. There's no danger. I do it a hundred times a day."

"You'll have to excuse me the next time," said Roy, with a smile as he got out. "I don't exactly cotton to elevators anyhow, but when they drop you like a steer falling over a cliff, why it'll be walk the stairs for mine, after this. It sure will."

"Guess you're from out West, ain't you?"

"That's what I am, and it's a mighty good place. Say, that trip sure made me dizzy."

Indeed there is a curious feeling about being dropped twenty stories in a swift elevator, and Roy might well be excused for his sensation.

However, he soon recovered himself, and, as it was noon time, and he had a good appetite, he looked about for a place to get something to eat.

He noticed a small restaurant nearby, and went in.

Instead of seeing tables set out in the place, he beheld rows of chairs, with one arm made very large, so that it served as a shelf on which to place plates, cups and saucers. In fact it was a chair and table combined.

He saw men eating, and others hurrying to and fro, so he took a vacant place, and sat there, expecting a waiter to come to him and take his order. He remained there for some time, noting that the men seated in a row on either side of him, were busy with their food, but no attendant came to him.

"This is queer," thought the boy. "The waiters must be terribly busy. They don't keep you waiting like this at my hotel."

Finally a man, seeing that Roy was a stranger, spoke to him, saying:

"You have to wait on yourself here."

"Wait on yourself?"

"Yes. You go up to that counter over there," pointing to it, "and take whatever you want. You'll find plates, knives, forks and so on. Then, if you want coffee, you take a cup, go to that counter, where the man stands, and he'll draw a cup for you."

"Thanks," replied Roy, proceeding to put these directions into use. Then for the first time he noticed that the other patrons of the restaurant were doing the same thing.

Roy helped himself to some sandwiches, crullers, a piece of cheese and some pie.

"I wonder who I pay?" he thought, as he saw no one behind the food counter to take any money. "Guess it must be the man at the coffee urn."

He carried his food to a chair, placing it on the broad arm. Then he went back for a cup of coffee.

"I got some grub back there," he said to the man. "What's the damage?"

"Pay the girl at the desk when you go out," replied the man shortly without looking around. "Tell her what you had, and she'll tell you how much it is."

"Well, isn't that the limit," exclaimed Roy, half to himself, as he got his coffee. "This is certainly a new-fangled way of getting your grub."

Still he rather liked the novelty of it. Certainly it was quick, once one learned how to go about it. Roy made a good though not very fancy meal, and then walked up to the desk, where he observed other men paying.

"Well," asked the young lady, who seemed to have a very large amount of light hair, piled up on top of her head in all sorts of waves and frizzes.

"What'd you have?"

She spoke briskly, making change for one man, and handing another one a box of cigars, that he might take one, and, all the while she never stopped chewing gum.

Roy named over the articles.

"Twenty cents!" exclaimed the girl. "Here, that's a lead nickel!" she added quickly, to the customer just ahead of Roy. "Don't try any of them tricks on me."

Roy laid down two dimes, wondering at the cheapness of the meal, and feeling quite confused by the rush and excitement about him.

He walked out, wondering what his next move should be. He had not gone a dozen steps up the street, before he suddenly remembered that he had forgotten to mention to the young lady at the desk that he had a piece of pie.

"I've got to go right back and pay her for that pie!" thought the lad. "She'll think I'm trying to cheat her. Lucky I thought of it when I did, or they might have sent a policeman after me."

He hurried back, and made his way to the desk through a crowd of men coming out.

"Say," he began to the cashier, "I'm awfully sorry, but I made a mistake."

"No mistakes corrected after you leave the desk. See that sign?" and the girl pointed to one to that effect. "You should count your change while you're here. You can't work that game on me."

"I'm not trying to work any game," and Roy felt a little hurt that his good motive should thus be mistaken. "I had a piece of pie and I forgot to tell you of it. I came back to pay the five cents."

"Oh!"

The girl's manner changed, and she looked a little embarrassed. "That's all right. You could have paid me to-morrow.

"But I might not be here to-morrow."

Roy laid down a five-cent piece.

"Say, but you're honest!" exclaimed the cashier, as she put back a straggling lock of her yellow hair. "You can't live in New York."

"Now I wonder why she said that?" reasoned Roy, as he walked along the street. "Can it be that every one in New York is dishonest? Well, I certainly think Mr. Annister is. I must write to father, and tell him what took place. Then I wander what I had better do next."

Roy was quite perplexed. He would have been more worried had he known what was passing through the mind of Caleb Annister at that moment.



CHAPTER XVII

CALEB ANNISTER MAKES PLANS

The rascally real estate agent was more worried over the visit of Roy than he cared to acknowledge, even to himself. The truth was that Caleb Annister was planning a bold stroke, which was nothing less than to obtain title of the building belonging to Mr. Bradner and his son.

For a long time, as Mr. Bradner had suspected, the agent had been cheating him, retaining part of the rents. But this did not satisfy Mr. Annister. He had begun to steal, and he liked that easy way of getting money so well that he determined on operations on a larger scale. Now Roy's coming was likely to interfere with this.

It was Caleb Annister's plan to obtain ownership of the building in this way. Though he had reported to Mr. Bradner that the taxes had been always paid promptly, they were, in fact, very much behind, and had not been paid for two years.

Consequently the city had put the property up for sale for unpaid taxes. A certain length of time must elapse before a title could be taken from the former owner, and given to any one who would pay the taxes and other city charges.

Mr. Annister planned to pay these back taxes without Mr. Bradner's knowledge and so become the owner of the building, which was quite valuable. But it needed about two weeks before his trick could be consummated, and with Roy on hand in New York it might not go through at all.

For the real estate agent realized, that as Roy had already begun to investigate the property, he might not stop there, but go further discover that the taxes were unpaid, and have his father pay them in the two weeks that remained, thus keeping the title of the building and land in Mr. Bradner's name.

"I must prevent that at all costs!" exclaimed the agent, as he sat in his office, when Roy had gone. "I have gone too far to back out now. And I will not be thwarted by a mere boy. Bah! Why should I be afraid of him? If I can get him out of the way—if I can have him disappear for two weeks, I can snap my fingers at him and his father too. Then I'll no longer be the agent for the Bleecker Building—I'll be the owner, and a wealthy man!"

He gave himself up to day-dreams of what this would mean. He was brought back from it, however, by the necessity of getting Roy out of the way.

"I wonder how I can do it?" he murmured.

At present Caleb Annister could see no way of bringing this about. He decided to go out for dinner, thinking, perhaps, some plan might occur to him.

As he was walking along the street he almost collided with a man who was hurrying along in the opposite direction.

"I beg your pardon!" exclaimed Mr. Annister.

"Certainly. My fault entirely," replied the other. "I—why, if it isn't Caleb Annister," he went on. "How are you?"

"Phelan Baker!" cried Mr. Annister, in a tone of surprise. "I thought you were out West."

"I was, but I arrived in New York this morning."

"And how are Sutton and Hynard?" went on Mr. Annister. "I haven't seen them since that affair of—"

"Hush! Don't mention such things in public," cautioned Mr. Baker, for what Mr. Annister referred to was a swindling game in which Baker and his cronies had been involved, and the discovery of which had made it necessary for them to leave the city awhile.

"The boys are all right," went on Mr. Baker. "Tupper is with them. In fact they came on to New York with me. We were delayed on the road." He did not say this was caused by the necessity for fleeing after robbing Mortimer De Royster. "We're at the same hotel. By the way," he went on, "you couldn't lend me fifty dollars; could you? I'm short, and the boys have very little. We haven't had any luck lately. I'd like fifty dollars for a few days. Can you let me have it?"

"I'm sorry," began Mr. Annister. "I'd like to, but the truth is I have some heavy bills to meet, and people who owe me money, have not paid me. Otherwise—"

"Well, perhaps I can get it somewhere else," said Mr. Baker. In fact he had very little hope, when he made the request of Mr. Annister, that he would get the loan. The real estate agent was known to be very "close", seldom lending money, though he was quite well off.

"I'd like to accommodate you," went on Caleb Annister, brightening up, when he saw that Mr. Baker was not going to press the matter, "but you see how it is."

"You haven't any work that you want done; have you?" asked the man who had helped to rob Mortimer De Royster, and who had tried unsuccessfully to rob and swindle Roy. "We could do almost anything you wanted done, if you paid us for it. None of us have anything in view to get a few dollars at."

Suddenly a thought came into the wicked brain of Caleb Annister. This might be the very chance he was looking for! Baker and his men could get Roy out of the way for him. He would try it.

"Perhaps you might do me a service," he said. "It is very simple, and does not amount to a great deal."

Mr. Baker knew the real estate agent well enough to feel that whenever he wanted anything done, it was no small matter. But he merely said:

"Tell me what it is. If it's possible we'll do it—for money, of course."

"Oh, it's very possible, and I will be willing to pay you and your friends well. Come and have lunch with me, and we will talk it over."

Caleb Annister had intended going to an expensive restaurant and ordering a fine meal, for he was fond of good living, but, when he found he would have to take Baker, and pay for his dinner, he changed his plans, and went to a cheap eating place.

There, sitting in a secluded corner, Mr. Annister unfolded a plot to the swindler.

"There is a certain young man, lately arrived in New York," said the real estate agent, "who is bothering me. Nothing serious, you understand, but I have a certain deal to put through and he might spoil it. I want him kept out of the way for two weeks. By that time my plans will be finished, and I don't care what he does. Do you think you can get him, and take him, say to some nearby town, or even some place in New York and keep him there for two weeks? But I must insist that no harm comes to him."

With all his swindling schemes, Mr. Annister would not go too far.

"Sure we can do it," replied Phelan Baker. "That's easy. What do we get for it?"

"If you get him away, and keep him out of sight for two weeks all will be well, and I will pay you a thousand dollars."

"Good enough! We'll do it. Now who is this boy you want taken away?"

"Roy Bradner."

"What? Roy Bradner, the boy from Triple O ranch?"

"That's the one. But what do you know of him?" and Mr. Annister was very much astonished.

"This is curious," murmured Baker. "Very curious. I'll tell you about it, Annister."



CHAPTER XVIII

ROY IN DANGER

When Roy got out into the street again, after paying for the pie he had forgotten about, he was quite puzzled as to which direction to take to get back to his hotel.

"Guess I'm off the trail," he told himself. "I'd ought to have brought a compass along. Let's see, which way is North?"

He looked about for a sight of the sun, but, though it was shining, the tall buildings hid it from view.

"Might as well be down in the grand canyon of the Colorado, as here in New York for all you can see of the sun," he murmured.

"I ought to have taken more notice of the way I came, but what with going in so many buildings, and that express elevator, I'm all turned around."

He tried to think which way to take, and then, getting over a little natural embarrassment about asking a stranger the road, he inquired of a well-dressed man the way to get to his hotel, the name of which, fortunately, Roy remembered.

"Go right down those stairs," said the man, pointing to a flight which started in a little shelter built on the sidewalk. "Take an uptown express, and you'll land right at your hotel. There's a station there."

"Station?" thought Roy. "That's a queer place for a station. Didn't have room for it above ground, I reckon."

He walked down the flight of steps, finding himself in a brilliantly lighted place. Doing as he saw the crowd do he bought a ticket at a little window and then, seeing a sign "Uptown Express Trains," he followed the throng going in that direction.

A moment later a string of cars came rumbling up along-side of the platform.

"All aboard!" called the guard.

The boy from the ranch got in and took a seat. The next moment the train started off at great speed, for it was an express, and made but few stops. Leaving the brilliantly-lighted station the cars plunged into darkness, relieved by an occasional electric lamp.

"Must be a tunnel," thought Roy. "We'll come out on top of the ground in a minute, and I can see what New York looks like. Space is so crowded down town, I s'pose they have to tunnel for a few blocks."

But the tunnel did not come to an end. In vain Roy waited for the train to emerge into daylight. Past station after station it rushed, the lights there showing for an instant, and then the darkness closing in again.

Finally the express stopped. Several passengers got off, and more got on. Then it started up again, still whizzing through the dark.

Roy could stand it no longer. Perhaps he had made a mistake and gotten into the wrong train This one might be destined for China, or some other under-ground port. Roy made his way to where a guard was standing.

"Excuse me, stranger," he began, in his broad western tones. "But how long is this tunnel, anyhow?"

"Tunnel? This ain't no tunnel!"

"No? what is it then? It's a pretty good imitation. Looks like an underground river that has gone dry."

"Why, this is the subway."

"The subway?"

"Sure. It goes right under the streets, all the way along New York."

Then Roy understood. Mortimer De Royster had told him something of this underground railroad, through the heart of New York, but thinking of other things had put it out of Roy's mind. A little later he alighted and walked to his hotel.

Meanwhile Caleb Annister and Mr. Baker had been plotting together. They discussed many schemes, and at last hit on one they thought would answer.

"I think we'll let Tupper do the trick," said Baker. "Young Bradner saw less of him than he did of the rest of us, and if Tupper shaves off his moustache, and changes his voice a bit, as he can do, the boy will never recognize him," for Baker had told Mr. Annister of the encounter of himself and his cronies with the boy from the ranch.

"Anything so as to get him away for two weeks," said the agent. "Don't tell him too much about it, and then—if anything happens, you understand—I can't be called to testify."

"Oh, nothing will happen, in the way you mean. We'll be careful. Now where is he stopping?"

Mr. Annister mentioned the name of the hotel, which Roy had written on the card he had left with the agent.

"All right. I'll see Tupper, and have him fix up to do the job. It ought to be easy. You'll have the money, I suppose?"

"As soon as he is out of the way—safely—you get the thousand dollars."

There was some more talk, and the two plotters separated.

It was three days after this, during which time Roy had enjoyed himself going about New York alone, (for he had not seen De Royster) that, as he was sitting in the hotel lobby one afternoon, a well-dressed man approached him.

"Aren't you from out Painted Stone way, in Colorado?" asked the man pleasantly.

"That's where I'm from, the Triple O ranch," replied Roy, who was frank by nature, and unsuspicious. He wondered who the man could be, and how he knew where he was from in the west.

"I thought so," went on the stranger. "I was out on a ranch near there about a week ago and I happened to be at the railroad station when you got aboard."

"What ranch were you on?" asked Roy, for he knew them all within a radius of a hundred miles of his father's.

"Why, it was—er—let's see—seems to me it was the Double X."

"There's no such ranch near Painted Stone."

"Well, maybe I'm wrong. I just stopped there, but I have a poor memory for names," said the stranger quickly. "But permit me to introduce myself. I'm John Wakely, of Buffalo. I'm a stranger in New York, and, as you are also, I thought we might go about a bit together."

"That would suit me," replied Roy, who was beginning to feel a bit lonely in the big city, without the company of a friend. He thought this was a good opportunity to go around and see the sights. He told the man his name.

"Suppose we go in and have some ice cream soda," went on Mr. Wakely. "Or, better, still, have it in my room. I'm stopping at this hotel. Then we can go out a bit."

The idea appealed to Roy, who had a liking for the ice cream sodas he had only lately become familiar with. The day was hot, and the stranger seemed very cordial. Roy had a dim suspicion that he had heard his voice somewhere before, but he could not place it. Certainly the face was not one he could recall.

They went to Mr. Wakely's room, and soon a bell boy brought two large glasses of the cool beverage.

He set them down on the table between Mr. Wakely and Roy, and then withdrew. Had Roy known now of the dangers of the city he never would have trusted a stranger as he did this one.

"Is that your handkerchief on the floor behind you?" asked Mr. Wakely suddenly, pointing at something on the carpet.

Roy turned. At the same instant Mr. Wakely extended his hand over the glass of soda in front of the boy. Something like a white powder sifted down into it.

A moment later Roy turned back.

"It's not my handkerchief," he said. "Must be a piece of dust rag, the work-girl dropped."

"Very likely. But drink your soda and we'll go out." The boy put to his lips the glass, into which Mr. Wakely had sifted the white powder. He was in great danger, but he did not realize nor suspect it.



CHAPTER XIX

ROY IS MISSING

Shortly after this incident, approaching the clerk at the hotel desk where he had engaged a room near Roy's, Mr. Wakely, seeming much concerned, said:

"My friend, Mr. Bradner, has been taken suddenly ill. I think I shall take him to my doctor's. Will you call me a cab?"

"Why don't you have the hotel doctor look at him?" suggested the clerk, who had taken a liking to the boy from the ranch. The clerk did not exactly like the ways of Mr. Wakely, who had only taken a room at the hotel a day or so before.

"Oh, I don't like to trust a strange doctor. I think my physician can fix him up. He is in need of rest, more than anything else. The strenuous life of the city, after his quiet days on the ranch has been too much for him."

"He looked strong and hearty," replied the clerk. "He told me he used to rope wild steers. I should think he could stand it here. He hasn't been going around much."

"Still I think I shall take him away," went on Mr. Wakely. "Please call me a cab. I believe I'll take his baggage with me. I'll settle for his bill."

"There's nothing to settle. Mr. Bradner paid me this morning for his board up to the end of the week."

Mr. Wakely looked relieved at this, but said nothing.

The clerk, not exactly liking what was going on, but being unable to interpose any objections, rung for a cab. Then, under orders from Mr. Wakely, Roy's baggage was brought down and put into the vehicle.

A little later Roy's new acquaintance came down in the elevator, supporting the lad with an arm around his shoulders. Roy could hardly walk, for his legs were trembling, and there was a curious white, dazed look on his face.

"What's the matter, old chap?" asked the hotel clerk, with ready sympathy. "Can I do anything for you?"

It seemed as if Roy tried to speak, but only a murmur came from his lips.

"He'll be all right in a little while," said Mr. Wakely quickly. "He's a little faint; that's all. I'll look after him."

Somehow the clerk thought Mr. Wakely acted as if he did not want any one to come too near Roy, or lend any aid. A little later, leading the boy, who seemed to become weaker, Mr. Wakely got into the cab with him, and drove on.

"Poor fellow," said the clerk sympathetically. "I hope he gets better. He certainly is a nice chap, and I wonder what could have made him ill so suddenly? I don't like that Wakely fellow."

That evening it occurred to Mortimer De Royster that he had not seen his friend Roy for some time. Not, in fact, since he had parted with him at the hotel.

"That's beastly impolite on my part, don't you know," said De Royster to himself. "I must run around and see him. I've been so busy straightening out my accounts since I came back from my western trip, that I have neglected all my friends. However, I'll make up for it. I'll take him to some theatre and give him a good time."

Thus musing, Mortimer De Royster adjusted his one eye glass, selected a delicately-colored necktie from his rather large stock, and attired himself to go out and call at Roy's hotel, which he soon reached.

"Good evening, Mortimer," greeted the clerk, who knew De Royster quite well. "How are you?"

"Feeling very fit, old chap, don't you know," replied De Royster. "How are you?"

"So-so."

"That's good. Charming evening, isn't it? Charming. I—er—I called to see my friend, Mr. Bradner. Going to take him out and show him a bit of New York after dark, don't you know. I have tickets to a very nice show, and I think he'll like it. I owe a good deal to him, old man. He's a clever chap. I want to repay him in some way. I'll go up to his room."

"It's no use."

"No use. Why, my dear fellow, what do you mean?"

"I mean he was taken away—ill—in a cab by a friend of his."

"Who was the friend?"

Mortimer De Royster lost his rather careless manner, and was all attention.

"A fellow named Wakely. He took rooms here a day or so ago. Made friends with Mr. Bradner—Roy, I call him, for I feel quite friendly toward him. Late this afternoon Wakely came to me and said Roy was sick, and he was going to take him to a doctor."

"And did he?"

"That's what he did. Took his baggage too," and the clerk related what had taken place.

"What sort of a fellow was this Wakely?" asked De Royster, with increasing interest.

The clerk described him. The dudish jewelry salesman shook his head.

"I don't recognize him," he said. "What do you think about it? You saw him."

"I'll tell you what I think," went on the clerk. "I think that fellow Wakely is up to some game, and I wish Roy had not made his acquaintance."

"That's just what I believe," exclaimed De Royster. "It seems a queer thing that Roy should be taken sick so suddenly. Why, he was as healthy as a young ox. I'll wager there's something wrong. He came here to New York to expose a man he thought was a swindler, and I believe the man has him in his power now. I must do something to aid him."

"What are you going to do?" asked the clerk, as De Royster started out of the hotel.

"I'm going to try to find the cab driver who took them away, and perhaps I can trace Roy. If I can't do it that way I'll notify the police. Roy has been taken away against his will, and maybe they are keeping him in hiding. I'm going to find him!"

Roused into sudden action by the thought of danger to the lad who had aided him, Mortimer De Royster hurried out, a look of determination on his face.



CHAPTER XX

IN THE TENEMENT

When Roy awakened, after what seemed like a very long sleep, he found himself in a poorly furnished room. At first he could not understand it—everything was so different from his pleasant apartment at the hotel.

He thought it must be a dream, but when he saw his trunk and valises near the bed, he knew he was not asleep.

He sat up and looked about him. The room he was in contained, besides the bed, a table, a few chairs and a small cupboard. As Roy roused a man, seated in one of the chairs, approached the bed.

"So, you're awake, are you?" he asked.

"What's the matter—what has happened, Mr. Wakely?" asked Roy, recognizing the man who had treated him to ice cream soda.

"Oh, you're all right. You're just staying here for a few days."

"But what happened? Did the hotel catch fire? Did I get hurt? Did they bring me here?"

"I brought you here, but the hotel did not catch fire."

"Then why am I not there—in my own room?"

"This is your room for a while."

Something in the man's smile roused Roy's suspicions.

"What do you mean?" he asked quickly.

"Now keep quiet and you'll be all right," spoke Mr. Wakely, in what he meant to be a soothing tone. "You can't help yourself. You're here, and you're going to stay."

All of Roy's energies were aroused. He believed he had been brought to the place for the purposes of robbery. But how had it been done without his knowledge? He started to leave the bed.

"No you don't!" exclaimed Mr. Wakely. "You stay right there."

"What's that?" cried Roy, a sudden fire coming into his eyes, and his hands clenching themselves ready for a fray. "I must say you've got nerve to do this. I'm going to get up, and you and I are going to have a tussel! I guess I haven't roped wild steers, and ridden bucking broncos, for nothing!"

He threw off the covers, noting for the first time that he was fully dressed. But, as he attempted to approach Mr. Wakely a dizziness overcame him, and he sank back, trembling on the bed.

"You see I am right," went on the plotter with an evil smile. "You had better stay where you are."

It seemed to Roy as if all his strength had left him. He had never felt so weak before, save once, when he was recovering from a severe fever.

"Where am I; and what do you want?" he managed to ask.

"Now if you'll promise to lie quietly, I'll tell you," went on the man. "I guess I'll not take any chances though. I'll tie you in bed, and you can listen then."

It did not take him long, in Roy's weakened condition, to fasten the boy securely in the bed, by means of ropes which he took from the cupboard.

"There," remarked Mr. Wakely when he had finished. "I think you'll stay there for a while. Now listen. You have been brought here for a certain purpose. I can't tell you just what it is, but, if you behave yourself, no harm will come to you."



"But what right have you got to bring me here?"

"Never mind about that. You're here, and you're going to stay."

"I'll call for help, as soon as I'm able."

"And a lot of good it will do you. You are on the top floor of a tenement house, and there are no tenants except on the first floor. You can yell until you are hoarse, for there is a big electric light plant near here. It runs night and day and it makes so much noise constantly that all the yelling you can do won't be heard above it. Besides, if the tenants should happen to hear you yelling, they'll pay no attention to you, for you are supposed to be crazy. I told 'em so. Now you see how helpless you are."

Roy felt stunned. Why had this man gotten him in his power?

"But I can't see what you want of me," went on Roy weakly. "If it's money, why take what I have, if you mean to rob me."

"No. I'm not going to rob you."

"Then are you kidnapping me, and holding me for a ransom?" Roy had read of such things.

"Not much! Kidnapping isn't in my line. I am acting under orders for a friend of mine. He wants you kept out of the way for a while, and I'm going to do it.

"Now understand. I'm on guard here, or in the next room all the while. If I'm not there some one else will be. If you try to escape it will go hard with you. If you behave you'll be well taken care of, and fed. In a short time—that is, in a week or so—you will be allowed to go. Now, if you'll promise to lie quietly, I'll take off the ropes."

"I'll not promise you anything!"

"Very well, then you stay tied up. I'm going out for a few minutes, but you needn't think you can escape."

The man left, locking the door. As soon as he was gone Roy tried to loosen the bonds, but they were tied too tightly, and he was too weak to accomplish anything.

"I wonder what his object is?" thought the boy from the ranch. "He must have put some drug in that soda to make me partly unconscious. I remember now it had tasted queer. Then he brought me here. But what for? I can't understand it. I wonder if I can escape?"

Once more Roy tried to loosen the ropes, but the effort was too much, and his head, which was not tied down, fell back. He was unconscious.



CHAPTER XXI

A DANGEROUS DESCENT

When Roy regained his senses again, he felt much better. He was still tied down on the bed, and Wakely was sitting near him.

"Well, you were quiet enough," remarked the man with a sneer. "I've got something here to eat. You can take it, if you don't raise a row."

"Oh, I'll take it," said Roy. He knew if he was to make an effort to escape, which he fully intended to do, he would need all his strength, and food was necessary.

"Then, I'll loosen the ropes a bit. But, mind now, no funny work, or I'll tackle you."

Roy had his own opinion as to how he would fare in a tussel with Wakely, but he said nothing. The ropes were loosened and the boy partook of the food. He felt better after it.

It was now dark, and Wakely lighted the gas in the room. Roy wondered whether it was the same day he had been taken from the hotel, or whether several had elapsed. It was the same day, as he learned later.

"Now, I'm going to sleep in the next room," went on the man, "and I warn you I'll awaken at the slightest sound. If you try any tricks—well, it will be better if you don't. As I said, no harm will come to you—if you're quiet."

Roy did not answer. He wanted to think out a plan of action. He was puzzled over the queer situation, and wondering who could have any object in keeping him a prisoner. He did not associate Caleb Annister with it.

After the meal Wakely again adjusted the ropes about the boy on the bed, and Roy offered no objections. He was sure when the time came he could undo the bonds. For what Roy did not know about tying ropes, to hold anything from a bucking bronco to a wild steer, was not worth knowing. He was in a situation now where his life on the ranch was likely to stand him in good stead.

"You can go to sleep whenever you want to," said Wakely. "But remember—no tricks!"

Roy did not answer. He wanted to think, and he knew he could do it best in the dark. Presently Wakely turned off the gas, and withdrew, again locking the door.

It did not need much listening on Roy's part to show that the man had spoken the truth about the noises near the tenement. There sounded the whirr of dynamos, the puffing of steam, the rattle of coal and ashes down chutes—in short it would have taken a loud voice to make itself heard above the racket. A better place to keep a prisoner, in the midst of a great city, could not have been devised.

Nevertheless Roy did not give up hope. He resolved to attempt nothing that night. He wanted daylight to work by, and he felt that Wakely could not be with him all the while.

"But if I stay here more than a day or so there's going to be trouble," thought the boy. "Dad will write or telegraph me, in answer to my letter telling about Annister's game, and, if I can't answer him, he'll get worried. I wish I could understand what this is all about. Maybe they take me for another person. Well, I can't do anything now. I must try to sleep. That stuff he gave me makes my head ache. This shows how foolish I was to trust too much to strangers. When he got me to look around at that handkerchief he must have put something into my soda."

Thus musing, Roy fell into a doze. From that he passed into a heavy sleep, and Wakely, peering in the door a little later, noted with satisfaction that his prisoner was deep in slumber.

"That's good," he whispered. "I can get some rest myself now. It's no joke—being on guard all the while. Some of the others of the gang have got to help out. I must send word to Baker. He's got to take his share."

Roy felt better the next morning, and ate with relish the breakfast Wakely brought in, though the meal was not a very good one.

A little while after this his captor went out, and Roy resolved to attempt to loosen his bonds. It was a hard task, for he could not work to advantage, but to his delight he found he could gradually undo some of the knots.

But he did not cast off the ropes. That was not his plan. As long as he knew he could loosen them at will, he decided to remain as though bound. This would make Wakely think he was in no position to escape, and the man would not keep such close watch.

Soon after this voices were heard in the outer room, and Roy knew some one was with his guard. They did not come into the apartment, and the boy saw nothing of any one until, at noon, more food was brought to him. He deemed it inadvisable to attempt to escape now, and resolved to wait another day.

Night came, supper was brought, and again Roy was locked in. He was beginning to be very uncomfortable, lying in bed so long.

"I'll slip out the first chance I get to-morrow," he thought. "Right after breakfast will be a good time."

Fortune favored him. Soon after Wakely had brought in the morning meal, he went out, locking the door after him. Roy heard another door close, and guessed rightly that his captor had left the building.

"Now's my chance!" thought the boy.

Putting into operation his knowledge of ropes and knots, and, by using his strength, which was not small, he managed to loosen his bonds. In a few minutes he was standing in the middle of the room free.

"Now for the door!" Roy murmured. "I wonder if I can break it open, or work the lock?"

A moment's inspection served to show him that to open the portal was out of the question. The lock was a heavy one. The door itself was solid, not one with panels, and, after trying it cautiously, for Roy did not want to make a noise, he decided he could not escape that way.

There was only one other means,—the window. He went to it and looked out. It was fully sixty feet from the ground, and there was nothing, in the shape of a lightning rod, or a rain-pipe leader to cling to. Nothing but the bare tenement house wall, broken here and there with other windows.

Roy leaned far out. He knew it was useless to shout, as the noise from the electric shop drowned all other sound. Nor could he see any one whose attention he might attract.

It was necessary for him that he work quickly, for Wakely, or one of his friends, might return any moment. Yet how could Roy get out of the window and to the ground?

He looked about the room for something to aid him. His first thought was of the bed clothes. He had read of persons tying sheets together, after tearing them into strips, and so making a rope. But there were no sheets on his bed, merely a small blanket, for it was warm weather. There was nothing in the shape of a rope in the room. It looked as if Roy would have to remain a prisoner.

Suddenly an idea came to him as he looked at his large valise which, with his trunk, had been brought to his room.

"I have it!" he exclaimed. "My lasso! It's long enough!"

It did not take a minute to get it from the valise. It was a long thin lariat, strong enough to support several pounds, and he knew it would reach over a hundred feet.

"Lucky I thought to bring that with me," he said, "though Billy Carew laughed at me, and asked if I expected to rope any steers in the streets of New York. I guess he didn't figure on this."

It did not take Roy two minutes to fasten one end of the lariat to the bed, which was the heaviest article in the room. Then he tossed the other end out of the window, noting that it touched the ground, with several feet to spare.

"Now for it!" murmured the boy. "It's a dangerous climb, to go down hand over hand, but I think I can slide it!"

Testing the lasso to make sure it was securely fastened, he put one leg over the window sill, grasped the lariat with both hands, and swung himself off.

As he did so he heard the door of his room open, and some one rushed in. There was a cry of alarm.

"That's Wakely," reasoned Roy. "He's discovered that I'm gone."

An instant later the face of Wakely appeared at the window. He shouted to Roy:

"Come back here!"

"Not much!"

"Then I'll cut the rope!"

Wakely drew out his knife, but, before he had a chance to use it he was pulled back, and the face of Mortimer De Royster replaced that of Roy's late captor.



CHAPTER XXII

GETTING A CLUE

Roy was so astonished at the sight of his friend, the jewelry salesman, peering out of the window that he nearly let go his hold of the rope. He recovered himself quickly, however, and slid on toward the ground. As he looked up at the casement he could see that De Royster and Wakely were having some kind of a struggle.

"I must go back and help him," thought Roy. "Mr. De Royster is no match for that fellow. I'd like to tackle him on my own account, though he was not cruel to me while he had me a prisoner."

His determination to do this was increased when his friend leaned out of the window, and called:

"Come on up, Roy! Help me!"

"He's plucky to tackle that fellow alone," thought the boy from the ranch.

But now he had no time for musings. He must act. As he let go the rope, his feet having touched the ground, he found himself in the not very clean yard of the tenement.

About him were boxes and barrels of rubbish, decaying vegetables were on all sides, besides tin cans and heaps of refuse. Clearly the tenants in the house were not particular.

Roy looked about him. The yard was surrounded by a high fence, and there were no persons in sight. To the rear was the electric light plant, and on either side, the yards of other tenement houses. Then Roy saw an alley, which, he thought, would lead to the street.

Leaving his lariat dangling, he made a dash for the alley and soon found himself in front of the tenement house, where he had so recently been a prisoner.

Up the stairs he went on the jump, and, as he came near the room where he had been held, he could hear the sound of a struggle.

"They're fighting!" he thought. "I must help De Royster!"

As he entered the apartment he saw the jewelry salesman holding Wakely by the wrists, while the man was endeavoring to get away.

"Quiet now, my dear fellow!" exclaimed Mortimer De Royster. "I say, old chap, you can't get away, don't you know. I've got you, and I'm going to have you arrested."

"You are, eh? I'll see about that!" exclaimed Wakely. "Let go of me!"

At the same time he gave a violent wrench.

"Hold on, my dear fellow," remonstrated De Royster. "You mustn't do that, don't you know."

In spite of his rather slight built De Royster was proving himself almost a match for Wakely. But his strength was not of the lasting kind, while the other's was.

"Let me go!" fiercely demanded Wakely. "If you don't it will be the worst for you!"

At the same time he gave such a yank that he succeeded in freeing one arm. But De Royster was not going to give up so easily. He grabbed Wakely around the waist.

At that moment Roy made a rush for Wakely. Just as he was about to grab him, he was thrust aside by some one from behind. Wakely turned, gave one look at the newcomer, and cried:

"Quick! Tell Annister he's escaped!"

Wakely had not yet observed Roy, as the boy from the ranch was back of him. Then the man who had taken Roy from the hotel succeeded in breaking the hold De Royster and Roy had on him. He dashed from the room, just as the other man, to whom he had called the warning, also ran out. Both seemed much frightened.

"Hold on!" cried De Royster, as if either of the men would stop for that. "Hold on! I know you."

"Come on! We'll get 'em!" shouted Roy, turning quickly and starting after his captor and the confederate.

But he was too late.

Wakely slammed the door of the room shut, and locked it, and Roy knew it would be useless to try and open it.

"Break the door down!" exclaimed Mortimer De Royster. "We can catch them!"

"The door's too strong," replied Roy.

"Then we're caught!"

"Yes, but don't worry. I can go down the lariat the same as I did before."

"Perhaps you can, but I can't my dear fellow."

"Oh, I'll come up the stairs and open the door for you, if the key's there. Say, but how did you get here, anyhow?"

"I came after you. I've been tracing you for hours. What does it all mean, Roy? Why did they take you a prisoner?"

"I don't know. Wait until I get my breath and I'll talk."

"That's so. I'm a little troubled that way myself, don't you know. If I could have held that chap a little longer I would have had him."

"Yes, but he had help at hand."

"Right again, old chap. The other man came in at the wrong time. You know who he was, don't you?"

"No. I didn't get a good look at his face. Who was he?"

"One of the four swindlers from out West who got my watch and diamond pin!"

"You don't mean it;" cried Roy, much excited. He began to understand part of the plot now.

"That's who he was," declared the dudish salesman. "I knew him at once, but I couldn't warn you. I needed all my breath to hold that other man. What was his name? I've forgotten."

"He called himself Wakely. I met him at my hotel."

The exciting incidents of the last few minutes, and the surprise created by De Royster's announcement that one of the train swindlers was a friend of Wakely, set Roy to thinking.

"Did you hear what the fellow, whom I was holding, said just before he got away?" asked Mr. De Royster, after a pause.

"Yes, he said 'Quick! Tell Annister he's escaped!'"

"I wonder what he meant?"

"I reckon I can explain. I might as well tell you the whole story of why I came to New York, and you will understand. Caleb Annister is the name of the man who is agent for some property my father and I own. It was this man whose actions I came to investigate. I found him to be a swindler, and I gave him a short time in which to pay back the money he had wrongfully retained."

"What did he say?"

"He tried to explain, but it was a pretty poor explanation. I caught him 'with the goods on him', as we say out West."

"But why should this man whom I held—this Wakely—want the other to warn Annister about some one escaping?"

"That 'some one' was me. I believe Annister got these fellows to get me out of the way for a time, until he could work some of his schemes. Perhaps he thought I would be frightened, and go back West, where I could not bother him any more.

"Are you going?"

"Not a bit. I'm going to keep right after him. I begin to see through his plot. This man Wakely came to my hotel purposely to get acquainted with me. Then he drugged me, and got me out to this place, where he kept me a prisoner. What was to be the outcome I don't know. But I am surprised to hear you say that the other man who came into the room was one of the swindlers who robbed you."

"I am sure of it. I would never forget his face. Wakely, too, seems familiar, but I can't place him."

"Maybe Wakely is a member of their gang, and perhaps Annister, too, is in with them."

"I shouldn't be surprised. What do you think we had better do?"

Neither of them yet recognized Wakely as Tupper.

"I think we'd better get out of this place before they come back with reinforcements," said Roy with a laugh. He was cool, despite what he had gone through, for he was somewhat used to meeting danger and doing his best to escape.

"I'll slide down my rope again," he went on, "come up the stairs, and open the door. Then we can talk it over. I must get my baggage away from here."

It did not take the boy long to repeat his feat with the lariat, and soon, having found a key, he opened the door from without, releasing Mortimer De Royster.



CHAPTER XXIII

A LAWYER'S ADVICE

"Now, what's the first thing to be done, my dear chap?" asked De Royster, as Roy loosed the lasso from the bed and coiled it up.

"Arrange to get my stuff away from here. I reckon, and back to my hotel. Then I want to hear how you traced me."

"I'll tell you. But I agree with you that we had better leave this place. Let's go down to the street and engage an expressman."

They found one who agreed to take Roy's baggage back to the hotel. After seeing it safely in the wagon, during which time a few of the tenants in the house looked on curiously, but said nothing, the two friends started for the hotel, where Roy had been stopping.

"As soon as I called at your hotel that night, and found you had been taken away, sick, by a man who had only recently come to the place, I suspected something was wrong," explained Mr. De Royster, on the way. "The clerk told me about you going away in a cab, and gave me a fairly good description of the driver, whom he had a glimpse of. It was a cab seldom seen in this part of the city.

"I knew my best plan, don't you know, would be to find that driver, and learn where he had taken you and your baggage. My idea was that some sharpers had gotten you into their power to rob you. I never suspected there was such a deep plot."

"Neither did I," replied Roy, "and I don't believe we have seen the last of it."

"Well," went on De Royster, "I had quite a time tracing that cabman. I must have interviewed nearly fifty drivers before I found one who knew a fellow that answered the description of the one who had taken you away. But at last I located him, and, though he was reluctant at first, to tell me what I wanted to know, he did, after I threatened to call in the police."

"Would you have done so?"

"Certainly. I felt that you were in danger, for you know little of New York."

"That's so, and I'm afraid it will take me a long time to learn. I'm pretty green."

"Well, you may be in some things, but you can go ahead of New Yorkers in lots of ways. That was a great trick, sliding down that lasso."

"It was lucky I had it with me."

"Indeed it was, and it was a good thing those scoundrels took your baggage as well as you, or you might have been there yet."

"No, for you would have helped me, I reckon. You arrived just a few minutes after I had started to escape. How did you manage it?"

"Well, as I said, my dear chap," replied De Royster, adjusting his one eye glass, which had fallen out during the struggle with Wakely, "I made the cabman tell me where he took you, and, after that it was an easy matter to locate you. I got to the tenement right behind Wakely and I followed him up the stairs, though, then, I didn't know who he was, and I rushed into the room as soon as he opened the door, for he forgot to close it when he looked at the bed and saw it empty. I suspected you had been in here, when I saw what a lonesome sort of place it was. I pulled him back, just as he had his knife out, ready to cut the lasso."

"I hardly believe he would have dared to cut it," said Roy. "He only wanted to scare me into coming back."

"Perhaps he did. But I was not going to take any chances; I just grabbed him."

"That was fine on your part."

"Oh, that's nothing. Look what you did for me. I only paid you back a little."

"Nonsense. As if I wanted pay."

"Of course you didn't, but I was glad of the chance. I only wish I could have held Wakely. Now, I suppose he'll go and tell Annister, and they'll keep right after you."

"Do you think so?"

"I believe so, from what you tell me of the men."

"Then what would you advise me to do?"

"Let me think it over a bit. Suppose we go to your room?"

"All right."

There was considerable surprise on the part of the clerk at the hotel when Roy came back. On the way he and Mortimer De Royster had agreed it would be better not to say anything about the reason for the taking away of the boy from the ranch—a veritable kidnapping in fact. So it was explained that Roy had recovered from his temporary illness, and had simply been away on business, which was true enough in its way,—though it was not very pleasant business.

"Now," said De Royster, when he and Roy were once more back in the former's room. "This is what I would do. I would consult a good lawyer, and let him advise me. I think this is too much for you to handle alone."

"I believe you are right. Do you know a good lawyer?"

"I can introduce you to the one who does business for our firm. He is very reliable, and his charges are reasonable."

"Then we will go see him, after I have changed my clothes. Sleeping in them hasn't made them look exactly as new as they were."

"That's a good idea. Have you heard from your father since writing to him about Annister?"

"I don't know. Perhaps a letter came while I was away. I wonder where they would send it?"

"They would keep it here until you gave them some instructions for forwarding it. I'll inquire at the desk for you while you are changing your clothes."

As Roy had purchased two suits on coming to New York, he had a new one to put on, while the other was sent to be pressed. He had not finished dressing when De Royster came back.

"No letters, but there's a telegram," he said, handing Roy the yellow envelope.

The boy tore it open and read:

"Letter received. No doubt Annister is swindler. You are doing right. Keep after him. Don't spare expense. Take property from his control, and give to some good man. I leave it to you. Answer when you get this."

"Why this came yesterday," said Roy. "Dad will be wondering why he doesn't hear from me."

"Then you had better answer at once. There is a branch telegraph office in the hotel lobby. Write an answer and I'll take it down while you finish dressing."

A reply was soon prepared and sent. Meanwhile Roy got ready for the street and, accompanied by De Royster, he went to the lawyer's office.

The legal gentleman greeted Mortimer De Royster cordially. Roy was quite surprised to find out how many friends the jewelry salesman had. Everyone seemed to like him in spite of his odd ways.

Roy's story was soon told. The lawyer took off his gold spectacles, wiped them carefully with a silk handkerchief, replaced them, looked at Roy over the tops of them, and remarked:

"Hum!"

It was not very encouraging, nor did it tell very much. Roy began to fear he had not made himself clear.

"I would like—" he began.

"What you want is my advice as to how next to proceed; isn't it?" asked the lawyer, as though he had come to some decision, as indeed he had.

"Yes, sir."

"Well, I shall have to look into this matter of the property. Evidently Mr. Annister has some reason for wanting you out of the way. What it is we shall have to discover. Meanwhile you had better do nothing."

"But suppose they kidnap him again?" asked De Royster.

"I don't believe they'll dare do that. Perhaps you had better take care where you go, however. In the meanwhile I will make some inquiries about this property. I will communicate with you as soon as I have anything to report."

"Do you think you can make Mr. Annister give back the money he has wrongfully kept?" asked Roy.

"I'm afraid I can't give you an opinion until I have looked further into the case," said the lawyer with a smile. "It may be necessary to take civil action, and we might have to make a criminal complaint. Now don't worry about it. I'll look after it. Just you keep out of the way of those men."

"I will," agreed Roy with a laugh. "I'm not afraid of them, however. I'll be ready for them next time."

"Another thing," went on the lawyer, "don't drink ice cream sodas, or anything else, with strangers."

"I'll stick to Mr. De Royster," said the boy. "I reckon if I trail along with him they'll not be able to rope me."

"Rope you? Oh, yes, I understand," replied the lawyer with a smile. "Yes, that's right. Good morning."



CHAPTER XXIV

ANOTHER RASCALLY ATTEMPT

"What next?" asked Roy of Mortimer De Royster, as they emerged from the lawyer's office.

"Well, as it's getting near dinner time, suppose we go back to the hotel."

"That's a good idea. Will you stay and have grub with me—I mean lunch. I must get used to calling it that while I'm in New York."

"Yes, thank you. I've got a good appetite since that tussel with Wakely."

"You had nerve to tackle him."

"I thought he was going to cut the rope and let you drop."

"If he had, that would have been the end of me. I'd have 'passed in my chips,' as the card players say."

"Those card players! I'd like to meet them. I'd get even with them for stealing my watch and diamond!"

"Maybe you'll have a chance, when we round up Annister."

"If we ever do. But I imagine he's too slick a criminal to be caught."

"We'll see," said Roy.

"What would you like to do this afternoon?" asked De Royster, when the meal was finished. "I can show you some sights if you'd like to see them."

"I sure would. I haven't had much time so far. There wasn't a great deal to see in that tenement."

"Then we'll go up to Bronx Park. We can make a quick trip in the subway."

"That's the place I thought was a tunnel, and I was wondering when we would come to the end," and Roy laughed at the memory of his natural mistake.

The two friends had a good time in the Park, looking at the animals. The herd of buffalo interested Roy very much, as did the elephants, tigers, and other beasts from tropical countries, for he had never seen any before, since no circuses ever came to Painted Stone, nor anywhere in that vicinity.

"You haven't got any of these out West; have you?" asked Mortimer De Royster, with a New Yorker's usual pride in the big Zoo.