"Don't let the boy suspect, or he will be on his guard," was the low reply. "He looks as if he could show fight if he wished."

"We'll take him unawares, and then——"

"There's a good shot!" cried Ralph, pointing to a number of wild water fowls, which just then arose from a hollow close by.

He fully expected one or the other of the men to take hasty aim and fire, but neither did so.

"We'll wait for something better," said Martin.

"We'll take a look around before we begin to waste our powder," put in Toglet.

In truth, neither of them had come to do any shooting. They were afraid that a shot might attract attention should other sportsmen be in the vicinity.

Ralph was rather disappointed. Had he had a gun he could easily have brought down one or more of the fowls. He considered it a most excellent chance lost—a chance that might not occur again that day.

Still it was not his place to pass any remark concerning the decision of his two passengers, so he remained silent, and plodded along over the rocks and through the brush, until, half an hour later, he came out on a grassy plateau overlooking a magnificent stretch of water.

"Here we are at the top of one end of the mountain," he said. "You can see a good many miles from here."

"That's so," said Martin. "What is below at the base of this cliff?"

"Rocks and water," returned Toglet, as he peered over. "It must be a hundred feet to the bottom."

"It is more than that," replied Ralph.

Martin and Toglet exchanged glances, and both nodded. This was as good a place as any for the accomplishment of their purpose.

"Hallo! what's that?" suddenly cried Martin, pointing across the lake.

Ralph looked in the direction, stepping close to the edge of the cliff as he did so.

"I don't see anything unusual——" he began.

He got no further. The two men pushed up against him roughly, and before he could save himself he was hurled into space. A second later he disappeared from the sight of the two men.

"He's gone!" cried Martin. "Easily done, eh, Tom?"

"It was, Sam. Let us look to make sure he went down."

They peered over the edge of the cliff. Nothing was to be seen of Ralph.

"There's his cap down on the rocks by the water," said Toglet. "He has gone clean out of sight. Come on away; the job is finished."

And without another word, these two villains in crime hurried from the spot down to the other side of the island, where the sloop had been left.



CHAPTER XXV.

SQUIRE PAGET'S NEWS.

Martin and Toglet were very white when they reached the sloop, and the younger man trembled from head to foot.

"What's the matter with you?" asked Martin, with a forced laugh, as they got on board.

"No—nothing," stammered Toglet.

"You've got a bad case of the shakes."

"Well, to tell the truth, that's the worst job I ever tackled, although I've accomplished many that were tough enough."

"Humph! you'll get over that feeling when you are as old as I am," replied Martin, heartlessly. "What's the boy to us?"

"Oh, I ain't squealing. Only he looked so innocent——"

"Bah! don't give me any more of that stuff. Here, have something to brace you up."

Martin pulled a black flask from his pocket and thrust it forward. Toglet drank copiously, as if to drown out the memory of what had occurred. Martin followed with an equally liberal dose.

"It was done easier than I at first imagined it would be," said the latter. "Had he suspected the least thing we would have had a nasty struggle with him."

The anchor was hoisted and the sails set, and in a few minutes the sloop had left the island and was on her way down the lake.

"We won't go near Glen Arbor," said Martin. "Let them find out about the affair in the natural way. If we report it we may get ourselves into trouble."

"But the squire——" began Toglet.

"That's none of our affair. We'll land near Westville, and watch our chance to report."

It was about four o'clock when the two rascals beached the sloop in an out-of-the-way spot just north of the village in which Ralph lived. No one had seen their coming, and as quickly as they could they left the craft and then sent her adrift.

Both of the men had worn wigs, and these they now cast aside, altering their appearance slightly. Their guns and game-bags were hidden behind a pile of decayed logs and then they sneaked through the woods toward the hill at the extremity of Westville.

They waited about Squire Paget's house for nearly an hour and at last saw that gentleman come out and start up the country road which led away from the village center.

Presently the squire came to an old, disused cottage, which years previous had been used as a road tavern. Here he halted, and the two men at once joined him.

"It's done, squire," said Martin.

"Hush! not here," cried Paget, in a scared voice. "Come inside."

He took from his pocket a key and with it unlocked the cottage door. The two men passed inside, and the squire of Westville immediately followed.

"Take a look about before you say anything," he said. "We must not be overheard."

Martin's lip curled, but he did as requested, and Toglet did the same. Not a soul but themselves was anywhere in sight.

"We're all right, squire," said Martin. "So we'll get to business without delay."

"Exactly, exactly! And did you—is he—is he gone?" asked Squire Paget, breathing hard.

"Yes, he's gone," returned Martin, boldly. "He went over the top of the big cliff, and that is the end of him."

"You are sure it was the right boy?"

"Yes, he said his name was Ralph Nelson," put in Toglet.

"You saw him go—go down all right?" asked the squire, hesitatingly. "There was no failure——"

"Not a bit of it," said Martin. "He went over into the rocks below and into the water. He gave one scream, and that was all," he added, dramatically.

The squire shuddered. It must really be true. Ralph Nelson was dead!

"Very good," he said, in a hoarse voice. "Here is the hundred dollars each I promised you. You shall have the other five hundred when—the body is found."

"All right, but you'll have to do the finding," said Martin. "It's at the bottom of the big cliff on the west side of Three Top Island. His cap is among the rocks close by."

"And his boat——"

"We sent that adrift. If we are traced up we want to shield ourselves by saying we went off hunting and when we got back could find nothing of him and the boat, and had to get a stranger to take us ashore."

"Ah, I see. Very good."

"Now we want to be going. We'll look for you in Chambersburgh inside of a week. Don't fail us if you value your secret."

"I will be on hand."

"You ought to pay us more than five hundred," put in Toglet. "You are going to make a pile out of this."

"How do you know anything about what I am going to make?" asked the squire, in great surprise.

"The boy told us about his property and the papers that were missing."

"I know nothing of that."

"Humph! We can put two and two together. You'll make a fortune out of that land, no doubt."

"I know nothing of that land you mention."

"Maybe you don't."

"And I haven't his missing papers," went on Squire Paget, and for once he spoke the truth.

"Then what's your aim in getting him out of the way?"

"That is my affair."

"Of course it is," broke in Martin. "But you might make it a bit more than five hundred."

"I am poor, gentlemen. I had to do what has been done to keep me from ruin."

Both of the rascals laughed at his words, but they could get nothing more out of the squire, and a few minutes later, after a little more conversation concerning poor Ralph, they separated. The two villains who had pushed the boy over the cliff went back for their guns and game-bags, and then set out for a town at the north of the lake.

Squire Paget watched them out of sight, and then hurried back to his mansion. Somehow, he did not feel safe until he had locked himself in his library.

"At last the boy is out of the way," he murmured, to himself, as he sank into an easy-chair. "It was accomplished much easier than I imagined it would be, thanks to my intimate knowledge of the character of that rascal Martin, and Toglet, his tool. Now what is to be done next? It will not do to get the widow out of the way—that would excite suspicion. I had better wait and watch her closely. Maybe she'll be unable to hold her cottage with her son no longer at hand to earn enough to keep them, and she'll be forced to sell out at a low figure, and then—by Jove!" he exclaimed, suddenly. "That's a grand idea! It's a wonder I didn't think of it before!"

The new idea made the squire walk up and down the library rapidly. He was a great schemer and could evolve a whole transaction, no matter how intricate, much more rapidly than most men.

"I'll do it!" he said, to himself. "I'll offer her a good price for the cottage and the land, and when the papers are drawn up for her signature, I'll take good care that all the other land is included in the plot mentioned. I can make the papers so confusing that she won't know the difference, and she'll sign them without knowing their real contents. Glorious!"

Then came a knock on the door.

"Dinner is ready, sir," said the housekeeper.

"Very well; I will be there in a few minutes," he returned.

Then he gazed out of the window thoughtfully.

"But what if those papers should turn up? I must watch out for them, and get the land in my name before that occurs—if it ever does occur. What a fool I was to trust them in the mails to have them certified to by that old woman in New York!"



CHAPTER XXVI.

ON THE ISLAND.

Meanwhile, what of poor Ralph? Was it true that he had been dashed to his death over the high cliff?

Happily, it was not true. Yet, for a long while after he was pushed over, the boy knew nothing of what had happened.

He went down and down, clutching vainly at rocks and bushes as he passed. Then his head struck a stone and he was knocked senseless.

How long he remained in this state he did not know. When he came to all was dark around him and silent.

Putting his hand to his face he found it covered with blood. There was a large bruise on his left temple, and his head ached as it never had before.

"Where am I?" was his first thought. "What has hap—— Oh!"

With something akin to a shock he remembered the truth—how he had stood on the edge of the cliff, and how Martin and Toglet had bumped up against him and shoved him over.

"I believe they did it on purpose," he thought. "The villains! What was their object?"

By the darkness Ralph knew it was night, but what time of night he could not tell. Luckily, he had not worn his new watch. The old one was battered, and had stopped.

Presently the bruised and bewildered boy was able to take note of his surroundings, and then he shuddered to think how narrowly he had escaped death.

He had caught in a small tree which grew half way down the side of the cliff, and his head struck on a stone resting between two of the limbs of the tree. Below him was a dark space many feet in depth, above him was a projecting wall of the cliff which hid the top from view.

What to do he did not know. He wished to get either to the top or the bottom of the wall as soon as possible, but he did not dare make the effort in his feeble condition and without the aid of daylight.

"I must remain here until dawn," he concluded. "I can do nothing until I can see my way."

To prevent himself from falling should he grow faint or doze off, he tied himself to the limbs of the tree with several bits of cord he happened to have in his pocket.

Hour after hour went by, and he sat there, alternately nursing his wounds and clutching his aching head, and wondering why the two men had treated him so cruelly. Never once did he suspect that they were the hirelings of Squire Paget.

"They did not rob me," he said to himself, after he had searched his pockets and found his money and other valuables safe. "And yet I am positive that it was not an accident."

At last the morning dawned. With the first rays of light Ralph looked about for some manner of releasing himself from his perilous position.

To climb up to the top of the cliff was impossible. There was nothing but the bare rocks to clutch, and they would afford no hold worth considering.

Therefore, he must go down; but such a course was nearly as hazardous.

With great care he lowered himself to the cleft from which the tree that had saved his life sprung. Having gained this, he scrambled down along a fringe of brush. Then it was necessary to drop a distance of ten feet, and crawl on hands and knees around a sharp corner to where a slope of dirt led to the bottom. On the dirt he slipped, and he could not stop himself until he had rolled into a clump of bushes directly at the base of the cliff.



Still more bruised, he picked himself up with a thankful feeling. At last he was free from the danger which had hung over him so grimly. He breathed a long sigh of relief.

Water was at his feet and his first task was to bathe his face and hands. Then he bound his handkerchief over his bruised temple. He looked about for his cap, and was not long in finding it.

"I suppose those fellows have left the island, and if so they have doubtless taken the sloop," he thought, dismally. "I'll make certain, though, and be on my guard while I am doing it."

He walked slowly and painfully to the cove where the boat had been left, but, as we already know, it was gone.

"They have taken themselves off and left me behind for dead," Ralph said to himself. "Well, thank fortune, I am alive!"

The boy was in a sad situation. He was without food and with no means of communication with the mainland on either side of the lake.

"I must see if I can't signal some passing boat," he thought. "It is impossible to swim to the shore, especially now when I feel as weak as a rag."

Ralph had just struck out for the opposite side of the island, that upon which all of the regular lake boats passed, when the report of a gun reached his ears.

It came from some distance to the north, and was soon followed by several other shots.

He wondered if it could be Martin and Toglet, or some sportsmen. Determined to find out, he set out as rapidly as he could in the direction of the sound.

After passing through a patch of woods and over a hill of rough stones, he came to a thicket of blueberry bushes. As he entered it there came another shot, not a hundred feet away.

In a moment more the boy espied a sportsman, dressed in a regular hunting garb.

"Hallo, there!" he called out.

"Hallo, boy!" returned the man, cheerily. "Out hunting, like myself?"

"No, sir," replied Ralph. "Yes, I am, too," he added, with a faint smile—"I am hunting for help."

"Help?" The sportsman put down his gun. "Why, what's the matter with your head?"

"I've had a bad tumble. Two men pushed me over the cliff on the other side of the island."

"The dickens you say! Pushed you over?"

"Yes, sir."

"What for? Did they rob you?"

"No, sir."

"Oh, then it was an accident, perhaps?"

"I don't think so. I don't see how it could have been accidental."

"Well, you arouse my curiosity. Tell me your story—or, you said you wanted help. What can I do for you?"

"If you have a boat you can put me ashore. The two men took my boat."

"Then they robbed you after all."

"But they didn't go through my pockets," returned Ralph.

Sitting down on a soft knoll of grass, the boy told his story to Carter Franklin, for such was the sportsman's name. The latter listened with interest.

"Certainly an odd occurrence, to say the least, my young friend. What could have been the object of the two villains?"

"I cannot say, sir."

"It is impossible to imagine they wished to murder you merely for your boat."

"That is true, sir."

"Depend upon it, they were up to something more. It may be that they were hired to do the deed."

Ralph started.

"That may be!" he cried.

"Have you any great enemies?"

"I have enemies, but none so bad as to wish to take my life," returned Ralph, and he thought he told the truth.

"Humph! Well, it's strange. I suppose you would like to be set ashore as soon as possible?"

"Yes, sir."

"You say you came from Glen Arbor? I have only a rowboat at hand——"

"You can land me anywhere," interrupted Ralph. "I can easily tramp it or catch a ride back to where I belong."

"Very well; follow me."

The boy followed the sportsman down the hill to the shore. Here lay a trim-looking boat with a pair of oars on the seats. Both at once sprang in. Ralph was about to take up the blades, but the man stopped him.

"You are too broke up to row," he said. "Sit down and take it easy."

"You are very kind, sir."

"Don't mention it. I only trust you are able to catch those rascals and bring them to justice."

The main shore was soon gained, at a point about six miles above Glen Arbor, and Ralph sprang out. He thanked Carter Franklin again for his kindness, and then started off for home, thinking soon to be able to tell his mother and his friends his strange tale and start out a party to search for his assailants. He did not know that he was destined to have many strange adventures ere he should reach Westville again.



CHAPTER XXVII.

THE MEETING IN THE WOODS.

Ralph was so sore and stiff from his fall that he walked very slowly toward Westville. It seemed to him that he ached in every joint, and it was not long before he sought a soft grassy bank upon which to rest.

"If only somebody would come along with a wagon," he thought, as he gazed up and down the rather rough woodland road. "I would willingly pay a half-dollar for a lift, as much as I need my money."

The boy was much exercised over his mother. He knew that she would be greatly worried over his prolonged absence. Never before had he remained away from home over night.

No wagon or any other vehicle appeared, and Ralph was forced to resume his journey on foot, dragging his tired and bruised body along as best he could.

Presently he came to a tiny stream that flowed into Big Silver Lake. Here he stopped again, not only to rest, but also to bathe his temples and obtain a drink, for the water was both pure and cold.

He could not help but think of the strange manner in which he had been attacked. What had been the purpose of Martin and Toglet?

"If I did not know better, I would be almost forced to believe it was accidental," he thought. "But in that case they would have come to my assistance, instead of taking the sloop and hurrying off with her."

It was so comfortable a spot at the brook that Ralph rested there longer than he had originally intended. But at last he arose and moved on, thankful that he had accomplished at least one-third of the distance home.

The road now left the vicinity of the lake and led up into the woods and across several deep ravines. It also crossed the railroad track, for there was a spur of the main line which came down to Glen Arbor—this spur being the only railroad in the vicinity.

Ralph had just crossed the tracks, when happening to glance toward an old shed in the vicinity, he saw something which filled him with astonishment. Emerging from the place were two men, and they were Martin and Toglet!

At first the boy could scarcely credit his senses. But a second look convinced him that he was not mistaken. They were his two assailants, true enough.

Ralph stood still, not knowing whether to advance or retreat. Before he could decide the point, Martin and Toglet, who had spent the night in the shanty after leaving Squire Paget, discovered him.

Toglet gave a cry of terror, thinking he was looking upon a ghost. Martin also uttered a yell, but it was more of astonishment than aught else.

"Look! look!" shrieked Toglet.

And he pointed with his long finger.

"It's the boy, as I'm a sinner!" burst out Martin.

"It's his ghost! Oh, why did I——"

"Shut up! It's the boy, I tell you! He must have escaped in some miraculous manner. See, his forehead is bound up," went on Martin.

"But how could he escape?" asked Toglet, faintly.

"That is more than I can answer. But there he is, and all our work was for nothing," growled Martin.

"Never mind; we've got the two hundred," began his younger companion.

"But we haven't the five hundred additional," grumbled Martin. "Let us go after him."

Martin strode forward, and shaking in every limb, Toglet followed.

Each of the rascals carried his gun, and as they advanced upon him, Ralph thought it best to retreat. There was no telling what they would do. For all he knew, they might try to finish their dastardly work.

"Hi! hi! stop!" called out Martin, as he began to run.

"What do you want?" called back Ralph.

"I want to talk to you. What are you afraid of?"

"You know perfectly well," returned Ralph.

"Ain't you going to stop?"

"Not just now. Come up to the railroad station and do the talking."

"Don't you do it," put in Toglet, in alarm. "He'll have us arrested."

"Stop where you are, or it will be the worse for you," went on Martin.

He raised his gun and pointed it at Ralph's head.

Fearful that the villain would shoot him, Ralph left the road and dodged behind a clump of trees.

There was no longer the slightest doubt in the boy's mind concerning the two men. They had meant to take his life, and they were still disposed to carry out their intention.

"He has gone into the woods," cried Toglet. "Why not let him go?"

"You fool! If he gets away he'll have the officers of the law on our track in no time!" ejaculated Martin. "We must catch him by all means!"

He sprang on ahead, and was soon making after the boy as rapidly as his long legs would carry him.

Ralph heard him coming, and once more he moved away. He left the patch of wood, and a second later came out on the railroad tracks.

As he did so, he heard a locomotive whistle, and a locomotive rolled past, followed by a long line of empty freight cars.

"Now I'll catch him!" cried Martin to Toglet. "He can't cross the tracks while the cars are passing."

He rushed toward Ralph, who did not know which way to turn. Up the track a big cut in the rocks blocked his way, and down was a deep ravine.

Just then, for some reason apparent to the engineer, the long train slackened its speed for a moment. A freight car came to a halt directly in front of Ralph, the big side doors wide open.

Hardly giving the matter a second thought, the boy sprang up into the car, intending to let himself out on the other side.

But before he could accomplish his purpose the train gave a jerk, and in a second more was on its way on a down grade at such a rate of speed that to leap off would have been highly dangerous.

Ralph was exhausted by his run, and when the car started off he could hardly stand. He clutched at the side and staggered to one end, and then sank down in a heap in the corner. The excitement had been too much for him in his weak state, and he had fainted.

When he came to his senses all was dark around him. A strange whirr sounded in his ears, coming from the car wheels, and telling him that the car was still in motion.

He arose to his feet, and then made the discovery that although it was dark in the car, it was daylight outside. The reason was plain—both of the doors on either side had been closed during the time that he had been lying in the corner.

Feeling his way along the side of the empty car he at length reached one of the doors only to find it locked. He crossed over to the other side to find a similar condition of affairs. He was a prisoner in the freight car and riding he knew not where.

"Well, this is too bad!" he murmured to himself, as, too weak to stand longer, he sank down on the floor. "I wonder how long I have been riding?"

This was a question just then impossible to answer, but he made up his mind that he had been riding for some little time, possibly half an hour or more.

There was satisfaction, however, in the thought that he had escaped from Martin and Toglet. It was not likely that they had been able to board the train, even if inclined to do so, which was decidedly doubtful.

A half-hour went by, and still the car rattled on, up grade and down, without once slacking its speed.

"I'd like to know if we're not going to stop pretty soon," Ralph murmured to himself.

He was getting thirsty, and knew it would not be long before he would need both food and drink.

Getting up once more he began to kick upon one of the doors with the heel of his shoe. He kicked as loudly and as long as he could, but no one came to answer his summons.

At the end of another hour Ralph began to grow alarmed. The train had stopped once, but kicking on the door and shouting had brought no one to his aid. It looked as if he must remain in the car until the journey's end.

"We must be miles away from Westville by this time," he thought. "I would like to know where we are going, east, west, north, or south? Perhaps they'll land me in some out-of-the-way place that I never even heard of before."

Another hour passed, and Ralph began to grow sleepy. He laid down, and, making a pillow of some loose hay in the bottom of the car, began to take it easy. In ten minutes more he was sound asleep.

His awakening was a rude one. Somebody touched him in the side with the toe of a boot, and the light of a smoky lantern was flashed into his face.

"Get out of here, you tramp!" cried a rough voice. "Get out of here at once, before I turn you over to the police!"

"Who—what——" stammered Ralph, rising to his feet.

But before he could say more he was jerked backward and sent flying out-of the car into the darkness.

"Now get out of the freight yard," said the man who had ejected him so forcibly. "Skip, do you hear?"

And he raised a stick he carried so threateningly that Ralph was glad to retreat.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

RALPH IN THE CITY.

Hardly knowing what to make of such rough and unexpected treatment, Ralph staggered toward a large gateway close at hand. He passed through and found himself on a narrow and dirty street, at the upper end of which were a number of tenement houses and saloons.

"Where in the world am I?" he murmured to himself, as he passed his hand over his forehead, from which the bandage had slipped. "What place can this be?"

The cool night air braced the boy up, and soon he felt stronger. But he was very thirsty, and was willing enough to stop at a nearby street fountain for a drink.

He heard a distant bell strike twice, and he knew it must be two o'clock in the morning. His involuntary ride had lasted over ten or twelve hours at least—the length depending upon the time spent in the freight yard before disturbed by the night watchman.

The street was practically deserted, saving for several men who were staggering along under the influence of liquor. All the stores were closed.

"I must find some place to stay for the rest of the night, no matter what place I am in," thought Ralph, and he walked on for a dozen blocks or more, looking for a hotel or lodging-house.

At last he came to a place that was still partly open. Over the doorway was the sign in gold letters:

ROYAL CROWN HOTEL, Beds, 25 Cents per Night.

"Certainly not a very expensive place," thought Ralph, and he peered inside to where a sleepy clerk sat dozing in a chair beside the desk.

Entering, he aroused the clerk, and asked if he could obtain accommodations.

"Certainly," was the prompt reply. "Single room, one dollar; two beds, seventy-five cents; six beds, a quarter. Which will you have?"

"Any place will do for me, so long as it's clean," returned the boy, who was not inclined to be wasteful of his limited capital. The total amount in his pockets was not over six dollars, part of which belonged to the boatman for whom he worked.

"All our beds are clean," said the clerk, sharply. "Pay in advance, please."

Ralph brought out a quarter and passed it over.

"Can I get a bite to eat anywhere before I go to bed?" he asked.

"There's an all-night lunchroom on the corner above."

"Thank you. I'll get something, for I have had no supper. I came in on a train and went to sleep. I don't even know what place this is," Ralph went on.

"Don't, eh? This is Jersey City."

Jersey City! Could it be possible! Then he had indeed taken a long trip.

Ralph knew that Jersey City lay just across the river from New York. A short ride would take him into the great metropolis. Despite the fact that he wished himself safe at home, the thought of seeing New York filled him with pleasure.

"I must send word to mother that I am safe and tell her all of what has happened, and then spend a day or two in New York before I go back," he said to himself. "I may not get the chance of seeing the city again for a long time."

Ralph found the all-night lunchroom without much trouble, and entering, he sat down at one of the numerous tables. He was a well-read boy, and therefore did not appear as "green" as he might otherwise have done.

A waiter soon came to serve him.

"What will you have?" he asked.

"What have you got?"

"All kinds of dairy dishes, tea, coffee, and oysters."

"I'll take an oyster stew."

"Anything else?"

"I guess not."

The stew was soon brought. It was a fairly good one, and the hungry boy ate it with a great relish, consuming all of the crackers that went with it.

While he was eating, a short, stout man, with his arm done up in a sling, entered the place, and after gazing around sharply, came and sat down close to Ralph.

"How is the stew, pretty good?" he asked.

"I think so," returned the boy.

"All right, then. Waiter, an oyster stew."

While he was eating his stew the man began to converse with Ralph. He said his name was Jackson Walters, and that he had just come into the city from Toledo, Ohio.

"And I feel mighty strange," he added. "Do you know the city pretty well?"

"Not at all. I just got in myself," said Ralph.

"Indeed! Then we are in the same boat. Stopping with friends or at a hotel?"

"I am going to stop at a hotel over night."

This reply seemed to please Jackson Walters, and he drew up closer, hurrying to finish his stew at the same time.

"Good enough. Perhaps we can stop together. I feel rather lonely here," he said.

"I am afraid my hotel wouldn't be good enough for you," replied Ralph, honestly. "I didn't want to waste my money, and so chose a cheap place."

"Well, I want something cheap, too," said Jackson Walters. He was more pleased than ever over the idea that Ralph had money even if he did not care to spend it.

"Where is the hotel?"

"Just down the street a step. I will show you if you wish it."

"Let us take a room together," suggested Jackson Walters, as they left the restaurant. "I hate to go in among perfect strangers, don't you?"

"Yes, but it couldn't be helped. I took a quarter bed, and there are six in a room."

"Humph! six! That's too many. How much do they want for a room for two?"

"Seventy-five cents each."

"Then I'll tell you what I'll do—I'll pay the dollar if you'll pay the fifty cents. Those rooms with six beds in are vile."

Ralph hesitated a moment, and then said he was agreeable. He, too, did not imagine, after some reflection, that the bed for a quarter of a dollar could be very good.

They soon reached the hotel, and Jackson Walters explained the new arrangement to the clerk. Ralph paid over another twenty-five cents, and his new friend the dollar, and then a boy was called to conduct them to room No. 96, on the third floor.

"Call me at half-past seven," said Jackson Walters. "I don't know when you want to get up," he said to Ralph.

"That will suit me, sir," was the boy's reply.

He usually arose at an earlier hour, but thought he deserved a longer rest, considering what he had passed through.

The boy led them up two flights of narrow stairs, and showed them the room, at the same time lighting the gas. He had brought a pitcher of water with him, and placing this on the washstand, he left, closing the door behind him.

The room was plainly but neatly furnished, and although the bed was scratched and old-fashioned, it was clean. It did not take Ralph long to undress and get under the covers.

"Do you sleep with a light?" asked Jackson Walters. "I never do."

"Nor I."

So the gas was put out, and a moment later Ralph's companion retired also. In a few minutes he began to breathe heavily, as though in the soundest of slumbers.

But this was all sham. He was far from being asleep, as the sequel soon showed.

Ten minutes later Ralph fell asleep, to dream of home and all that had been left behind.

In a few minutes after this, Jackson Walters crawled from the bed, and began to don his clothing silently, but in great haste. He put on his stockings, but he placed his shoes in his coat pockets.

This done, he took up Ralph's clothing from where it lay on a chair. With a dexterity worthy of a better cause, he went through the pockets, searching for everything of value.

His nefarious task was soon accomplished. Ralph slept on unconscious, and did not awaken when Jackson Walters opened the door and glided out.

The thief was soon below. The clerk dozed away in the office, and in his stocking feet the man had no difficulty in passing out of the building without being noticed.

Once on the pavement he slipped on his shoes.

"Not much of a haul, but a good deal better than nothing," he chuckled to himself, and disappeared down the street which led toward the ferries.



CHAPTER XXIX.

PENNILESS.

It was daylight when Ralph awakened from what had been an unusually sound sleep. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, wondering for the moment where he was. Then the recollection of what had occurred flashed over his mind. He looked beside him, and saw that Jackson Walters had gone.

"He must have dressed and left me to sleep it out," he thought. "I wonder what time—hallo! what does that mean?"

Ralph had espied his clothing in a heap on the floor, most of the pockets inside out. With a strange fear he leaped from the bed and made a hasty examination. It was only too true—he had been robbed.

"That fellow was nothing but a sharper!" he ejaculated to himself. "What a fool I was to be taken in by his smooth tongue! He took me for a greeny from the country, and he was right."

Ralph did not know enough to ring for the proprietor of the hotel and acquaint him with the facts in the case. He scrambled into his clothing as best he could, and washed and brushed up all in a minute.

When he reached the office he found a new man at the desk.

"I have been robbed," he said.

"Robbed!" cried the clerk. "By whom?"

"A man who occupied the same room that I did," replied the boy.

He told what he knew, to which the clerk listened with interest. But the hotel clerk saw that Ralph was green, so he took no responsibility upon his own shoulders. He said he would notify the police, but it was likely nothing would be heard of Jackson Walters.

The matter was talked over for half an hour, and then Ralph left the place to see if he could trace up the thief. He walked around until noon, without any success.

"This is the worst yet," he muttered to himself, as he at last came to a halt down near one of the ferries. "Here I am in the city without a cent in my pocket. What in the world shall I do?"

Had Ralph been in New York he would have made an effort to hunt up Horace Kelsey, the gentleman he had assisted while he was acting as bridge tender. The gentleman had told him to call whenever he was in the city, and he had no doubt but what he could raise a loan when he stated how he was situated.

At length he decided to go back to the hotel and see if anything had been heard of Jackson Walters. He went back, only to be disappointed.

But the visit was productive of some good. Hearing that he had a friend in New York, the hotel keeper gave him a quarter of a dollar with which to get over the ferry and pay other expenses while hunting him up.

Ralph was soon back to the river, and in company with a great stream of people, he purchased a ferry ticket and went aboard one of the boats.

The trip on such a craft was a novelty, and he was sorry it did not last longer. Yet when the boat touched on the other side he was one of the first ashore.

Ralph was now in the great city of New York, and the country boy could not help but stare about him at the bustle and apparent confusion on all sides. By a miracle he managed to cross Wall street in safety, and then, learning that Broadway lay several blocks beyond, he followed the crowd in that direction.

"It's a big place, and no mistake," he said to himself. "My gracious, what tall buildings, and how they are crowded together!"

At last Broadway was reached, that greatest of all metropolitan thoroughfares. It was the most wonderful of all sights to Ralph, so many cars, and wagons, and trucks, not to mention people. He stood on the corner so long that at last a policeman came up and told him to move on.

Ralph was sorry he could not remember Horace Kelsey's number. The insurance agent's card was at home, and the boy had not troubled himself to commit the address to memory. He knew it was on Broadway, and that was all.

"I suppose I might inquire at some of the insurance offices," he thought, at length. "I'll step into the next one I run across."

It was not long before he came to such a place as he was looking for. He entered and made known his wants to the clerk, who advanced to ascertain his wishes.

"Horace Kelsey?" said the clerk. "Don't know the man."

"He is an insurance agent," went on Ralph.

"Good many insurance agents in New York. You might look in the directory. There is one on that stand over by the window."

"Thank you, I'll try it," replied the boy.

He soon found the list of men in the insurance business. Running down the column of K's, he came across the name Kelsey, Horace, insurance broker, with his office address and also his home address, up-town.

Making a mental note of both, Ralph hurried out. A policeman directed him to the tall office building in which his friend had rooms, and he was soon on his way thither.

Arriving at the building, the boy took his first ride in an elevator. It must be confessed that the lift moved so fast and the sensation was so unusual that it made him somewhat sick. When he got out at the right floor he felt as if he was walking on air for a few seconds.

He found Horace Kelsey's office handsomely fitted up. There were several young gentlemen clerks and two young lady typewriters. Evidently business was in a prosperous condition.

Ralph was disappointed to find that the gentleman himself was not visible.

"I came to see Mr. Kelsey," he said, to the clerk who greeted him.

"Mr. Kelsey is out, sir. What can we do for you?"

"I will wait until Mr. Kelsey comes in, please. My business is with him personally."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a long time," smiled the clerk. "Mr. Kelsey is out of the city."

Ralph's heart sank at this announcement. He had felt sure that assistance was close at hand.

"When do you expect him to return?"

"I can hardly say, perhaps to-day, perhaps to-morrow or the day after. It depends on when he finishes up the business on hand."

Ralph heaved a sigh. The clerk saw that he was greatly disappointed.

"Can't you come in to-morrow and see if he has returned?" he asked.

"I guess so," faltered the boy. "But I expected sure to meet him to-day," he went on.

"Very sorry."

"I will come in again before you close, if you don't mind."

"Not at all; come whenever you please. We are open until five o'clock here."

Ralph left his name and then quitted the offices. He did not bother taking the elevator down, but used the winding stairs instead.

He had reached the second floor, and was about to start down for the street when he caught sight of a man standing on the stone steps below. The man was Jackson Walters.

"The rascal!" muttered Ralph, to himself. "How fortunate to catch sight of him!"

He sprang down the steps two at a time. Walters heard him coming, and looked around. But before he could attempt to move away, Ralph had him tightly by the arm.

"So I've caught you, have I?" he said, bluntly. "Why—er—really—you have the advantage of me," stammered Jackson Walters, coldly.

"I guess I have, and it's a good thing, too," returned Ralph.

"I—er—don't know you."

"What!" ejaculated the boy, in amazement.

"I say I don't know you. Isn't that plain enough?"

"Well, I know you plain enough. You are the man who roomed with me last night and robbed me."

"'Pon my word, I never saw you before. This is some extraordinary mistake."

"No mistake about it," returned Ralph, doggedly. He was not to be buncombed by the oily manner of the thief.

"Let go of my arm, boy!"

"I will not. You are the thief, and you must return what you stole from me," said Ralph.

He spoke rather loudly, and a crowd began to collect about the two. In a few seconds a policeman hurried up to ascertain the cause of the trouble.



CHAPTER XXX.

THE SHARPER IS OUTWITTED.

"What's the matter here?" exclaimed the policeman, as he pushed his way forward.

"This man is a thief," replied Ralph.

"The boy is mistaken," burst out Jackson Walters, in assumed indignation.

"No, I am not mistaken," said Ralph. "He slept in the same room with me in a hotel in Jersey City last night, and he went through my pockets and got out before I woke up."

"A likely story!" ejaculated the sharper. "I live in Englewood, New Jersey, and I was home last night, as usual."

The policeman looked perplexed. Ralph's earnest manner had impressed him, and yet Jackson Walters looked honest enough.

"You are sure that you are not mistaken in your man?" he asked, of Ralph.

"I am positive, sir."

"He is mistaken," blustered the sharper. "I am an honest man. My name is William G. Harrow, and I am in the crockery business over in Park Place."

"Well, the best you two can do is to come with me," said the policeman.

"Where to?"

"To the police station. You can tell your story there."

"I am willing," returned Ralph, promptly.

"It is an outrage," cried Jackson Walters. "A respectable citizen like myself to be dragged to the station house——"

"You won't be dragged, you can walk," interrupted the policeman, with fine sarcasm.

The fact that Ralph was willing to go while the other was not, had impressed him greatly in the lad's favor.

"It's all the same. This boy is a young gamester. He wanted to frighten me into paying him money. It's a pure case of blackmail."

"If it is, the boy will be sent up for it," replied the policeman, sharply. "Just come with me, both of you."

"I won't go!" cried Jackson Walters, and before he could be stopped he sprang away, and started to cross Broadway.

Like a flash Ralph was after him. The boy was fearful the sharper would get away and the money be lost once more. Before Jackson Walters reached the car tracks Ralph had him by the arm.

"Let go of me!" howled the sharper.

"Not much! I want my money!" replied the boy, stubbornly.

"There, take your confounded money, then!" cried the sharper, and snatching several dollar bills from his vest pocket he flung them in the street.

The sight of the bills relieved Ralph greatly. He stooped to pick them up, and as he did so, Jackson Walters darted across the street, the policeman at his heels.

With the bills in his hand, Ralph got out of the way of the trucks and wagons as soon as he could. He ran to the sidewalk, and counted the money. There were eleven dollars. In his haste, Jackson Walters had thrown him five dollars more than the amount originally taken.

Ralph now found himself in a new crowd of people. The policeman and the sharper had entirely disappeared.

Thinking to find the pair, the boy crossed Broadway and hunted around, up and down and into several of the side streets. But it was useless, the two had disappeared.

"Well, I am not the loser," thought Ralph, with considerable satisfaction. "I'm the gainer, and if Jackson Walters wants his money let him apply to me for it."

The fact that he now had his money safe once more gave Ralph not a little satisfaction. He was no longer worried over the fact that he might not see Horace Kelsey before nightfall.

It was now noon, and Ralph felt hungry. He walked along until he came to a clean-looking restaurant, which he entered, and called for the regular dinner, at thirty cents. He ate all that was placed before him, with keen relish.

While at the table he reflected upon his situation, and came to the conclusion that his duty was to write to his mother, telling her of all that had happened. He would also ask her to see Bill Franchard and pay him the money due for boat hire, and tell him all, so that he might start on a search for his missing boat.

"Then I'll wait till I see Mr. Kelsey and get his advice as to what to do next," he thought. "Perhaps he'll see through his mystery, even if I do not."

Close to the restaurant Ralph found a stationery store, at which he purchased a sheet of paper and an envelope.

"Will you kindly allow me to write a letter here?" he asked.

"Certainly," replied the clerk. "You will find pen and ink at the desk in the rear."

It took Ralph some little time to compose his letter—he had so much to say—and when he had finished, the sheet was crowded from the first page to the last. He sent his love to his mother, and told her to address him at the general post office.

Ralph's next move was to take his letter to the post office and stamp and mail it. This took nearly half an hour, but the boy enjoyed the trip to the big Government building, and was astonished to note on what a large scale the metropolitan post-office business was conducted.

"This beats the Westville post office all to bits," he murmured to himself. "Mr. Hooker would cut a mighty small figure here, no matter how important he is at home."

The letter mailed, Ralph felt better. It would relieve his mother of much anxiety, and clear up the mystery concerning his strange disappearance.

"Shine yer shoes, boss?"

It was the inquiry of a ragged bootblack standing just outside of the post office building.

"What's that?" asked Ralph.

"Shine yer shoes? Make 'em look like a lookin'-glass, boss."

Ralph glanced down at his shoes, and saw that they were decidedly in need of brushing up.

"What do you charge?" he asked.

"Five fer a regular, an' ten fer an oil finish."

"I cannot afford more than five. Go ahead and do the best you can for that."

"All right, boss, I'll give yer a good one."

The boy dropped on his knees in an angle of the building, and put out his little box before him. In a second he was hard at work with a well-worn whiskbroom, brushing the dirt from the bottom of Ralph's trousers.

"How do you like shining shoes?" questioned Ralph, curiously.

"Don't like it, boss," was the truthful reply. "No, sir. But a feller has got ter do somethin' fer a livin'—or starve."

"And you can't get anything else to do?"

"Nixy. I've tried a hundred times, but it wasn't no go—all the stores and shops is so crowded."

"That is too bad."

"Maybe you kin give me a job?" went on the bootblack, suddenly, and he turned his blue eyes up in expectancy.

"Hardly," laughed Ralph. "I am looking for work myself."

"Dat's too bad. Do yer belong in New York?"

"No; I just arrived this morning."

"Ain't yer got no pull?"

"Pull? What do you mean?"

"No friend ter give yer a lift?"

"I have a friend, yes."

"Is he rich?"

"Yes."

"Den it's all right. But if yer didn't have no pull I would advise yer to go back home. A feller widout a pull in New York can't do nuthin' nohow," and the bootblack gave an extra dash with his brush to emphasize his remarks.

"I haven't been able to see my friend yet. He is out of town."

"Say, maybe yer kin put in a word fer me."

"What is your name?"

"Mickety."

"Mickety? Mickety what?"

"Me udder name is Powers, but da all calls me just Mickety."

"And where do you live, Mickety?"

"Over in Cherry street, wid me old gran'mudder. She can't work, an' I have ter keep t'ings goin'."

"You have to support her, you mean?"

"Dat's it. She's most blind, Gran'ma Sal is."

"It's a good deal on your shoulders," said Ralph, and his respect for the dirty little chap before him increased.

"Dat's why I want ter strike anudder job."

"Well, if I hear of any opening, I'll let you know. Where can I see you?"

"I'm around here most all day, boss, an' t'ank yer fer sayin' you'll look out fer me."

The shoes were now blacked, and Mickety arose to his feet. Ralph brought out a quarter and handed it over.

"Keep it all, Mickety," he said. "I am sorry I can't spare more just now."

"Gee! A quarter! Yer a liberal gent, so yer are! T'ank yer, sir!"

"You are quite welcome," returned Ralph, and he walked off.

He was destined to meet the bootblack again, and under circumstances full of the gravest peril.



CHAPTER XXXI.

ON THE BOWERY.

After leaving the bootblack Ralph hardly knew what to do with himself. It was barely three o'clock, and he fancied it still too early to visit Horace Kelsey's office again.

He concluded to walk around and see the sights, and accordingly strolled up Broadway past the City Hall Park, and continued on up until Fourteenth street was reached.

This great thoroughfare, with its immense stores, interested him greatly. He spent fully half an hour in looking into the show-windows.

"What a lot of money must be invested in business here," he thought. "How I would like to be a merchant on such a scale. A person who had never been here would not imagine it was so grand!"

When a neighboring clock showed the hour of four the boy thought it time to return to the insurance agent's office. He was soon on his way downtown.

At the entrance to the office, a policeman tapped him on the shoulder. It was the one he had met earlier in the day.

"Hallo, young fellow," he said. "Did you get your money back?"

"Yes, I got my money, and a trifle more," returned Ralph. "Did you catch the man?"

"No, the rascal gave me the slip. So you got more than your money, eh?"

"I got five dollars more. But he has my pocketknife and a silver temperance badge. He can have his money when he gives me my things back."

"I reckon you'll have to call it square," laughed the policeman. "He was a slick one."

"He was, sir."

"You are a stranger in the city, I take it," went on the policeman, with a glance at Ralph's country clothes.

"Yes."

"You want to have your eyes open in the future, or you'll be robbed again before long.

"If you sleep in a room with others, pin your money fast inside of your shirt. Then they can't get it without waking you up."

"Thank you, I'll remember that."

"I shall watch out for that sharper, and nab him the first chance I get."

"That's right; he ought to be arrested."

"The trouble will be that there will be no one to make a complaint," went on the policeman.

"I'll make a complaint if I am still in the city," said Ralph.

"But where will I find you?"

"Ask for me at Mr. Kelsey's office in this building."

"Oh! All right," said the guardian of the peace, and then he and the boy separated.

In a minute more Ralph was back in the offices upstairs.

"Sorry, but Mr. Kelsey has not returned," said the clerk. "Better come in to-morrow about ten o'clock."

"Thank you, I will," replied Ralph.

He went downstairs much disappointed.

"I'll have to find some sort of a sleeping-place for to-night," he thought. "And it must be a cheap one, for if Mr. Kelsey doesn't come back in a day or two I will have to go home without seeing him, and I want to save the carfare to do it. No more riding in empty freight cars for me!" and he laughed to himself, as he remembered his experience in that line.

Ralph had often heard of the Battery, as the lower end of the city is called, and he determined to pay it a brief visit before nightfall should set in.

From a passer-by he learned that Broadway ran directly down there, and on he walked against the great tide of humanity which was now setting in toward up-town.

It was not long before he reached the little park back of Castle Garden and the emigrant offices, and here he sat down on a bench to take a look at the bay, and also at the various types of people that were moving about in all directions.

It was dark when Ralph moved off. During his stay he had heard two young men speak of the Bowery, and the many odd sights to be seen there, especially during the evening.

"I have nothing to do between now and bedtime," he thought. "I'll take a stroll up the Bowery, and take in all that is to be seen. In such a place as New York it will be easy enough to find a cheap hotel when I want to retire."

So leaving the Battery, he traveled up to Park Row, and continued along until the Bowery was reached.

The Bowery, even at this early hour in the evening, was alive with people. Many of the men and women were of very questionable character, but Ralph did not know this. He walked along, staring at everything to be seen.

Presently he came to a clothing establishment, in front of which were hung a number of suits marked at very low figures. He stopped to examine them, and hardly had he done so when an outside salesman, or "puller-in," as he is called, approached him.

"Nice suits, eh?" he said, pleasantly, as he placed his hand on Ralph's arm.

"They look so," returned the boy.

"Come in and try one on."

"No, thank you; not to-night."

"Won't cost you anything; come on," persisted the fellow.

"I don't care to buy to-night."

"That's all right; just try 'em on, and see how nice they look on you."

"Thank you, but I won't bother you," and Ralph attempted to walk away.

The "puller-in" was not going to lose him thus easily, however. Trade had been bad with him for the day, and he felt he must sell something or his position with the owner of the establishment would be at stake.

"It's no trouble to show goods, my dear sir; walk right in," he said, and, instead of letting Ralph go, pushed him toward the open store doors.

"But I don't want to buy," insisted Ralph, who began to fancy he was not being treated just right.

"Didn't ask you to buy, my dear sir. Isaac just show this young gentleman some of those beautiful all-wool suits for nine and ten dollars."

A greasy old Jew at once came forward, rubbing his hands.

"Chust sthep back here," he said, smiling broadly. "I vill show you der greatest pargains in New York."

"But I don't care to bu——" began Ralph again, but the Jew cut him short.

"Ve got dese suits at a great pargain," he said. "Da vos made originally to sell at twenty dollars. So efery von vot buys von of dem suits saves ten or elefen dollars on der burchase brice."

He hurried Ralph back to the rear of the store, and in a trice had at hand half a dozen suits, more or less faded, and of exceedingly doubtful material.

"Chust try on der coat and vest," he said. "Here, Rachel, hold der young gentleman's coat an' vest till I fit him to perfection," he went on to his wife, who had come up.

"Oh, Isaac, it vos a shame to sold dem peautiful allvool suits for twelfe dollars!" she cried, in assumed dismay.

"I vos sold dem for nine and ten dollars," returned Isaac.

"Vot, you reduced dem again?" she cried, in well-assumed horror.

"Yah, I vos got to haf der monish."

"It vos der greatest pargain sale in der vorld!" cried the woman. "You ought to buy two suits vile it lasts," she went on to Ralph.

In the meantime her husband was trying to make Ralph take off his coat and vest. He at length succeeded, and in a trice had part of one of the store suits on his back.

"Ach! vot an elegant fit!" he cried, in deep admiration. "Chust like it vos made to order!"

"Peautiful! peautiful!" joined in his wife.

"Vill you try on der bants?" asked the Jew.

"No," returned Ralph, decidedly.

"You had better. Da might not fit chust so vell as der coat."

"But I do not want to buy," cried Ralph, desperately.

"Vat?" screamed the old Jew. "And dot suit fits so elegantly!"

"Of course he takes dot suit," put in his wife. "Vot more you vonts, hey?"

"I didn't want to buy from the start," returned Ralph. "Give me my coat and vest."

And taking off the store coat and vest, he flung them on a counter.

"You dinks I vos a fool!" shrieked the old Jew. "Vot you try dem clothes on for, hey? Dot suit chust fits you—it's chust vot you vonts. I wraps dem up and you bays for dem and say noddings more! I vos here to sell goots—not to be fooled mit!"



CHAPTER XXXII.

NEW EMPLOYMENT.

Had Ralph been more familiar with the ways of the city, and particularly with the ways of such merchants as the one with whom he now had to deal, he would have known that the Jew's anger was only put on in order to intimidate him into purchasing a suit he did not want.

The Bowery is full of such shops as I have described, and despite the many protests that have been made, "pullers-in" and their associates continue to flourish. In more than three-quarters of the cases where passers-by are enticed into stores they are forced into buying, no matter how hard they protest against the outrage.

But although he was ignorant of the real facts of the matter, one thing was clear to Ralph. He did not want to buy, and he was not going to be forced into doing so.

"I did not come in to fool," he said, stoutly. "Your man outside insisted that I should come in and try on the things, although I told him I did not wish to buy."

"Dot's all right—I wrap der suit up and you bay for dem."

"Not much!" and Ralph's temper began to rise. "Give me my coat and vest!"

He made a dash for the articles, but before he could secure them the Jew's wife had whisked them out of his reach.

"You can't vos fool Isaac," she screamed. "You bay for der suit, and den you gits dem pack—not before."

"I'll have them back now!" exclaimed Ralph, his eyes flashing dangerously. "Give them to me!"

The woman ran behind the counter, but he made after her. He caught hold of the coat and vest, and despite her resistance, twisted them from her grasp. In a second he had them on once more.

"Hellup! hellup!" screamed the woman.

"Don't you touch mine wife!" howled the old Jew.

"Samuel, come in here and hellup your fadder and mudder!"

The "puller-in" had been watching proceedings from outside of the store, and now he came running in. He was a big, muscular fellow, and not above acting roughly when the occasion demanded.

"See here, what do you mean by striking my mother?" he cried out, boldly. "Do you want to get yourself locked up?"

Instead of replying to this speech, Ralph backed toward the rear of the clothing establishment. He had no desire to enter into a fight on the premises. Now he had his clothing, he wished to get out as quickly as possible.

"Sthop! sthop!" screamed the old Jew. "Vere vos you going?"

Still Ralph returned no reply. The way to the front was blocked. But a rear door, leading to a small yard, was open, and toward this he ran.

"He's goin' out of der pack!" cried the woman. "Sthop him, Isaac!"

"Run, Samuel!" shrieked Isaac, and the son darted forward, but too late to stop Ralph in making his exit.

Ralph found the yard both small and exceedingly dirty. Beyond was another yard, and, looking over the fence, the boy saw an open hallway leading to a street.

Without hesitation, for Samuel was close at his heels, Ralph vaulted over the fence. Before the young Jew could follow, he was inside of the hallway. A minute later he was in the next street, and running through the crowd toward the end of the block. He did not cease his rapid pace until the neighborhood was left a good distance behind.

"Well, that's the most trying experience I've had yet," he murmured to himself, as he at last dropped into a slow walk to catch his breath. "Those people are not thieves, but they are next door to it."

Ralph was so disgusted with the Bowery—which, in reality, has many nice places of business in it—that he left the street at the next corner.

At nine o'clock he found himself in the vicinity of the Brooklyn Bridge. Here he came across a cheap but neat-looking hotel. He entered and engaged a room for himself alone on the top floor for fifty cents, and soon after retired and slept soundly until morning.

The boy was on the streets again long before the time appointed for his next call at Horace Kelsey's offices. Having nothing to do, he mounted to the bridge, and took a walk across to Brooklyn and return. This gave him a splendid view of both cities, and afforded him a means of enjoyment until it was time to make the call.

He had brushed himself up to the last degree, and invested in another shine for his shoes, and a clean collar and tie, so now, even if his clothing was rather worn and torn in one or two places, he nevertheless looked quite respectable.

"He is in," said the clerk, when Ralph entered the offices, and the next moment Horace Kelsey came forward and shook him by the hand.

"This is an unexpected pleasure," said the insurance agent. "Step into my private office," and he led the way, showed Ralph to a seat, and closed the door. "My clerk told me of your calling yesterday."

"This is a totally unexpected trip, Mr. Kelsey," returned Ralph, by way of apologizing for his appearance. "When I started, I had no idea I would end up in New York."

"Indeed!" and the gentleman looked his curiosity.

"I've got rather a long story to tell," went on Ralph.

"Yes? Then let me hear it at once. I will be at leisure for the next hour."

It was rather awkward for Ralph to start, but it was not long before he was deep in the recital of his adventures and the great wrong that had been done to him. Horace Kelsey listened with scarcely a word of comment until he finished.

"Well, Ralph, if I did not know you to be an honest boy, I would not believe it," he exclaimed, at last.

"I can hardly believe it myself, Mr. Kelsey. Why did those two men attack me?"

"It is a great mystery. Had you not met them after the fall over the bluff I would be inclined to say that that fall must have been accidental. But, as it is, it was premeditated, beyond a doubt. And you are certain that you never met the men before?"

"I am."

"They could not have been the ones that robbed the post office, and got angry because you put the authorities on their track?"

"No sir; I don't believe they had anything to do with that affair."

"It couldn't be that Percy Paget set them up to it?"

"I don't believe he would go as far as that—not when our quarrel was no worse than it was."

"I believe you there. Yet there must be some reason," insisted Horace Kelsey. "Men do not attempt to take life for the mere fun of it."

"I believe you there, sir."

"The thing is—what could they profit by if you were out of the way?"

"I don't know."

"Could they claim that property, the papers of which are missing?"

"No sir; the property belongs to my mother—at least I think it does."

"Your father might have willed it to you."

"In that case my mother would have told me of it."

"You should have gone back to Westville at once and made a search. Your mother will be worried over your absence."

"I have already written to her, telling her all. I don't see the use of going back just now. Those men have most likely skipped out."

"That is true."

"And now I had come to New York, I thought I would take a look around before I went back. I may not get the chance again. Besides, I only had a job on the lakes running the pleasure sloop, and I would like to strike something better if it's to be had."

"I see," Horace Kelsey smiled. "Well, I promised to do what I could, and I won't disappoint you. I will give you employment here in my office unless you can strike something better."

"Thank you. I would prefer to work for you."

"I need another clerk for a new line of work, and I fancy you would just suit. But you would have to remain in New York. How would your mother like that?"

"She would miss me, sir, but if the job paid I could send for her to come on, and rent the place in Westville."

"Then you can consider yourself engaged whenever you are ready to come to work. And, by the way," Horace Kelsey went on, hurriedly, as there came a knock on the door, "there is a gentleman I must see on business. Come in at one o'clock again, will you?"

"Yes, sir," replied Ralph, and not to detain the gentleman longer, he bowed himself out, well pleased over the sudden turn his fortunes had taken.

Could the boy have seen what was at that time occurring at Westville, he would not have been so contented, but would instead have taken the first train homeward.



CHAPTER XXXIII.

SQUIRE PAGET'S MOVE.

Let us leave Ralph for a short time and go back to Westville and see what was occurring at that place during his absence. Of course, when the boy did not return in the evening from his trip up Big Silver Lake, Mrs. Nelson was much worried over his absence. She took supper alone, after waiting until eight o'clock for him to make his appearance, and then took a walk down to the bridge where her son was in the habit of tying up.

"Have you seen anything of Ralph?" she asked of Dan Pickley, who sat in the office, counting his tolls for the day.

"No," he returned, shortly, and went on with his counting.

Not wishing to disturb him, the widow said no more. She strained her eyes to see through the gathering darkness, but not a boat that could be the right one appeared in sight.

After waiting nearly an hour she returned to the cottage. She sat up until twelve o'clock, watching and waiting, and went to bed.

"If something had happened they would let me know," she said to herself. "He must have taken out some party and been detained. He will surely come back by to-morrow noon."

But the morrow came, and the morning passed slowly by without any one coming near the distressed woman.

After dinner she could bear the suspense no longer. Dressing up and putting on her bonnet, she started out to walk to Glen Arbor.

On the way she met one of the neighbors who was driving and offered her a seat in his wagon. She accepted the offer gladly, for she was not accustomed to walking a long distance.

"It ain't often you go to Glen Arbor, I reckon," said the neighbor, a farmer named Wilkins.

"No," she replied, "I am going to see what has become of Ralph."

"Ralph! What's the matter with him? Run away?"

"I hope not, Mr. Wilkins. But he did not return last night from a trip on the lake, and I am worried."

"Maybe he couldn't get back because he went too far and the wind died out."

"There was a good breeze all night."

"That's so, widow. Well, I hope you find Ralph all right."

"So do I," returned Mrs. Nelson.

She knew very well where Bill Franchard's boat-house was, and after leaving Mr. Wilkins, walked hither quickly. Luckily, she found Franchard on shore, mending one of his boats.

"Where is Ralph, Mr. Franchard?" she asked, hurriedly.

"That's just what I'd like to know, Mrs. Nelson," replied the boatman. "He ain't showed up since he went off yesterday morning."

"Did you expect him to stay out so long?"

"No, I didn't. I was looking for him in last evening."

"Who did he take out?"

"Two gentlemen, I believe. He made the engagement himself. I don't know who they were."

"Have you any idea where he can be?"

"They sailed up the lake, so Jack Harper says. Maybe they might be puttin' in the time around the islands. Sometimes these sportsmen don't care to come home at dark, but want the fun of camping out over night."

This last remark afforded Mrs. Nelson some relief. If the supposition was correct, Ralph might be perfectly safe.

"I hope he comes back soon," she said. "Would you mind if I stay around the boat-house for a while?"

"Why, no, Mrs. Nelson; make yourself at home," returned Franchard, heartily. "We ain't got very good accommodations here, but such as they are you are welcome to."

The widow sat down and watched the boatman mending his craft. Thus an hour passed. Then came a hail from the water.

"Ahoy there, Franchard!"

The boatman looked up and saw a young fellow in a rowboat.

"Hullo, Evans!" he called back.

"Say, one of your boats is ashore over to Mack's meadow," went on the youth in the rowboat.

"One of my boats! Which one?"

"The Minnie. I saw her as I came past, and I thought I'd tell you about her. She isn't tied up there."

"My gracious! what can it mean?" cried Mrs. Nelson. "That was the boat Ralph had, wasn't it?"

"It was," returned Franchard. "Jump in this rowboat, Mrs. Nelson, and we'll go over to the meadow and take a look at the boat."

He ran for a pair of oars, and soon the two were on the water. Mack's meadow was less than half a mile away, and Franchard, who was an expert rower, soon pulled the boat to it.

"There is the Minnie, sure enough!" he exclaimed, as they rounded a little point.

And he pointed to where the sloop lay half-hidden in the water and high meadow grass.

"Is—is any one on board?" asked Mrs. Nelson, in a trembling tone.

"Not a soul."

"Oh, Mr. Franchard, what do you suppose has happened?" she burst out.

"I can't say, ma'am. Wait till I go on board and take a look around."

Franchard was soon on the sloop. Everything appeared to be in order, although there were the marks of muddy feet on the flooring and on the seats. Martin and Toglet had taken good care that no clew that should lead to their identity should be left behind.

"Do you see anything belonging to Ralph?" asked Mrs. Nelson.

"Not a thing."

"Do you suppose he left the boat here?"

The boatman shook his head slowly.

"I wish I could say yes, Mrs. Nelson," he said. "But I don't think so. It's all wet around here, and there would be no sense in it when there are so many dry landing places nearby. Most likely he landed somewhere else and the boat drifted away from him."

The widow gave a start.

"Oh, might they not have landed on one of the islands and the sloop got away from them?" she cried.

"By creation! that may be it!" ejaculated Bill Franchard. "I never thought of it before."

"I wish we could find out. I'm greatly worried. Something tells me that Ralph is not safe—that something has happened to him."

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Mrs. Nelson. I'll take the Ariel and sail up to the islands and take a look around."

"Will you go this afternoon?"

"If you wish it, yes."

"I do, very much."

"Then I won't waste another minute. Maybe you would like to go along?"

"I would," returned Mrs. Nelson, impelled by a fear she could not banish.

Franchard lost no time in towing the sloop back to the boat-house. Ten minutes later he and the widow were sailing up the lake as fast as the wind would carry them.

It was well on toward evening when the islands were reached.

"I'll give them a call if they are anywhere about," said Franchard, and he yelled many times at the top of his lungs.

No reply came back, and after sailing around for some time they came to anchor beside Three Top Island.

"If they landed anywhere, they landed here," said the boatman. "So as long as we are in the vicinity we may as well take a look around."

As luck would have it they had reached shore close to the bottom of the cliff. As they leaped on the rocks, Mrs. Nelson gave a start.

"What is it?" cried her companion, quickly.

"Oh, Mr. Franchard, look!" screamed the poor woman. "It is Ralph's fishing towel, and it has blood upon it!"

And as she spoke, she held up the object.

"You are sure it is his?"

"I am positive. Oh, I am sure something dreadful has happened."

"Perhaps not, Mrs. Nelson. Let us hope for the best, and search further."

Mrs. Nelson heaved a long sigh. Her heart was heavy within her breast.

The two searched around until nightfall, but nothing more was found.

At last they returned to Glen Arbor, and after another inquiry there for Ralph, the poor widow made her way back slowly to her home.

She was all but prostrated, and all that night paced the rooms, watching and waiting in vain for her son's return.

The news of Ralph's disappearance spread, and several parties went out to hunt for him. Strange to say, one of the parties contained Squire Paget.

The squire went up to the islands in a private boat of his own. He remained there probably half an hour. Then he returned and called at the Nelson cottage.

"It is too bad, Mrs. Nelson," he said. "But I have, I am afraid, very bad news for you."



CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE SQUIRE IN HOT WATER.

As the reader well knows, there was no love lost between Squire Paget and the Nelsons. The squire had not treated Ralph and his mother fairly, and they were inclined to look upon him with considerable distrust.

Yet when the squire entered the cottage with the announcement that he had bad news to convey, the widow forgot all the past and began to question him eagerly.

"You have bad news?" she faltered.

"I am sorry to say I have," he returned, in a hypocritical tone of sympathy.

"And what is it?" she went on, her breast heaving violently.

"Pray, calm yourself, madam."

"I cannot wait, squire. You have news of Ralph! The poor boy has been—has been——"

She could get no further.

"His body has not yet been found, Mrs. Nelson."

"Then he is dead!" she shrieked, and fell forward in a swoon.

Fortunately a neighbor arrived just at this moment, and this good woman, aided by the squire, soon revived the widow. At the end of ten minutes she sat up in a chair, her face as white as a sheet.

"Tell me—tell me all," she gasped out.

"There is not much to tell, unfortunately," returned the squire, smoothly. "I was up to the islands in company with others, and I found strong evidence that made me believe that Ralph fell over the cliff."

"Then he was killed!" burst out the neighbor.

"Most likely, Mrs. Corcoran. The cliff is more than a hundred feet high, and the rocks below are sharp."

"But his body—what of that?" asked Mrs. Corcoran, for Mrs. Nelson was unable to utter a word.

"His body must have been carried off by the current which sweeps around the island, especially during such a breeze as we had recently."

"It must be true," cried Mrs. Nelson, bursting into tears. "I found his fishing towel, and that was covered with blood. Oh, my poor Ralph!"

She went off into a fit of weeping, and in that state Squire Paget left her to the attention of Mrs. Corcoran. He had expected to go into the details of his search, but, evidently, they were not now needed.

"I guess my plan will work all right," he said to himself, as he walked home rapidly. "It's a pity I must hurry matters so, but unless I do that valuable piece of property may slip through my fingers."

Not for one moment did the squire's conscience trouble him for what he had done. He thought only of the end to be gained—of the money he intended to make.

Of course, he imagined that Ralph was really dead. He would have been furious had he known the real truth.

But an awakening was close at hand. It came on the following day, when the squire was at the post office.

He was standing in a corner looking over the various letters he had received when he heard Henry Bott, the clerk, address a few words to a laboring man who had come in to post a letter.

"Kind of mysterious about Ralph Nelson?" remarked the man, whose name was Fielder.

"It is," returned Bott.

"Any news of him yet?"

"None, excepting that he fell over the cliff on Three Top Island and his body was washed away."

"The widow must feel bad about it."

"Sure."

"I was going to stop at the cottage, but I must get over to Eastport."

"There's a letter just came in for Mrs. Nelson from New York," went on Bott. "I suppose I might send it to her. It might have some sort of news she might want to hear."

At these words the squire became more attentive than ever. Who knew but what the letter might refer to the missing papers that the widow had advertised for?

"Did you say you had a letter for Mrs. Nelson?" he asked, stepping to the window.

"Yes."

"I am going down to the place. I'll take it to her if you wish."

"All right, squire; here it is," returned Bott, and handed over the epistle.

Squire Paget at once hurried from the building, and in the direction of the Nelson cottage. But once beyond the village proper he turned into a by-path.

Here he stopped to examine the letter. It was not sealed very tightly, and by breathing upon the mucilage in the back he soon managed to get it open without tearing the envelope.

It was Ralph's letter to his mother, and for the moment Squire Paget was so stunned that he was in danger of collapsing then and there. He staggered to a stone and fell upon it.

"Alive!" he muttered to himself. "Alive! and the rascals said he was dead!"

He read the letter carefully, not once, but several times. He saw how Martin and Toglet had failed twice in their efforts to take Ralph from his path forever.

"The scamps! They knew he was alive when he boarded the empty freight car! Why did they not come back and tell me! I suppose they expect to get that five hundred dollars out of me at Chambersburgh! Just wait till I see them!"

Squire Paget did not know what to do with the letter. If he destroyed it, might not the widow hear of his having a letter for her and ask him for it?

And yet if he gave her the letter, that would be the end of the plot against her—the whole cake would be dough.

Already a new plan to get Ralph out of the way was forming in his mind, based on the fact that Martin and Toglet had really tried to do as agreed. Perhaps they would make another trial, if urged on.

"I'll fix this letter business," he said.

Among his own mail had been a circular from a New York dry-goods house, calling attention to a big midsummer bargain sale, and soliciting orders from out-of-town patrons. This circular the squire now thrust into the envelope which had contained Ralph's letter. To make the deception more complete, the squire drew out his stylographic pen and went over the address, altering the handwriting quite a little, so that it might not be recognized.

Then, stowing away the genuine letter among his own, he walked on to the Nelson cottage, where he left the bogus letter with Mrs. Corcoran, who came to the door.

"I thought I would bring it along, as it might have news," he said.

Mrs. Nelson was handed the letter. She gave it a hasty examination, and finding, to her great disappointment, that it was merely an advertisement, she threw it aside; and thus her son's communication, upon which so much depended, never reached her.

The squire found out that nothing could be done to further his plan just then, so far as the widow was concerned. So leaving the cottage, he took the evening boat for Chambersburgh.

He knew exactly where to look for Martin and Toglet, who had come down from an upper lake town by railroad. It was in a fashionable club-house, with a saloon attached, at which many of the sports of the city congregated.

He saw Martin sitting at a table playing some game of chance, and at once motioned him to come out.

"What is it?" asked Martin, but his face showed that he was much disturbed.

"You know well enough," returned the squire, sharply. "Ralph Nelson is alive and well!"

"Never!" cried Martin, in some surprise.

"It is so, and you know it," went on the squire, coldly.

"Why, he went over the cliff——"

"And escaped."

"Escaped!"

"Yes, and you know he did, for you met after that in the woods."

"It is false!"

"No it isn't, Mr. Martin. He was too smart for you, and he got away."

"Is he in Westville?" questioned Martin, anxiously.

"No; he is in New York."

"When is he coming home?"

"Never, if I can prevent it," returned Squire Paget, earnestly. "He wrote to his mother, but I got the letter. She does not even know he is alive."

"And he is in New York?" said Martin, looking suggestively at the squire.

"He is, Martin."

"I might go down there——"

"That is what I thought."

"I can go alone. Toglet is too chicken-hearted for this business. I know he wishes he was out of it. If he hadn't been in it from the start there would have been no failure."

"Then go alone, but lose no time, for he may write more letters, and one of them may slip through my hands. Now he has disappeared, I do not wish him to be heard of again."

"But he has a friend in New York."

"I don't care for that. I do not wish his mother to hear from him, that is the whole point."

"All right, squire. Give me time to get to the city and she'll never hear of her boy again. There will be no failure this time."

The two talked the matter over for half an hour longer, and arranged all of their plans. Then Martin took the first train for the metropolis, and Squire Paget the last boat for Westville.



CHAPTER XXXV.

RALPH A PRISONER.

At the appointed time, Ralph called again upon Horace Kelsey, and was given instructions in regard to the work he would be called on to do.

"But you had better not start in until you hear from your mother," said the insurance agent. "She may wish you to pay a visit home before you settle down here."

Ralph thought this good advice, and he resolved to act upon it.

"I ought to get a letter by to-morrow noon or night," he said. "And I will wait that long. If I don't get word, I'll take the trip home anyway, seeing as you say you will be kind enough to wait for me."

Kelsey then asked him what he intended to do while waiting, and learning Ralph had nothing in particular in view, he advised the boy to get a guide-book of the city and walk about, so that he might become familiar with the streets.

"The work I have for you will take you out more or less," he said. "And it is a great help if you understand how to get around."

At a nearby bookseller's Ralph purchased a guide-book for twenty-five cents. He studied it off and on the entire afternoon, walking around in the meantime. Before he retired that night at the hotel, he had taken in the city from Fourteenth street down to the Battery.

"It's awful big and crooked," he thought. "But I guess I'll manage to get around, especially if I keep the guide-book on hand for reference."

His first duty in the morning, even before he had breakfast, was to go to the post office. Of course, he found no letter there for him. He inquired at the information office about the Westville mail, and ascertained that the next pouch from that place would be ready for delivery about three o'clock in the afternoon.

"I'll wait for that," he thought. "And then, if there is no word, I'll take the first train home."

To tell the truth, Ralph was growing anxious. The more he thought over the matter, the more he became convinced that he had done wrong in not returning home at once. He was willing to admit that the sight of the great metropolis had proven too much for his better judgment.

When Ralph left the post office building he did not know that he was being followed, yet such was a fact. Martin, who had got into the city but a short while before, had been watching for him, knowing that he would most likely call for mail. The man slunk out of sight when Ralph appeared, and when he went out, dogged him through the crowd like a shadow.

Ralph returned from the post office across Park Row, and from there made his way toward the East Side, as the great tenement district of New York is termed. He had not been through this section very much, and thought to make a tour along the East River.

Martin followed him for a distance of eight or ten blocks. Just as Ralph was about to go past a coal yard he tapped the boy on the shoulder.

Ralph turned quickly, and was almost dumbfounded to see who it was that had accosted him.

"What, you!" he exclaimed.

"Then I am really right!" cried Martin, reaching forth and grasping his hand. "Thank heaven that you are safe!"

"Why, I don't understand," stammered Ralph.

He could not comprehend the other's manner.

"I was afraid you had been killed on the cars," went on Martin. "I am very glad to see that you escaped."

"Indeed! I thought you wished me dead," said Ralph, coldly.

"Dead! No, indeed, my young friend!"

"But you pushed me over the cliff on the island."

"That was accidental, I assure you."

"Perhaps our meeting in the woods was accidental, too," and the boy could not help sneering.

"It was all because I took charge of my poor friend Toglet," said Martin, with an anxious look in his face. "That poor, poor fellow has caused me no end of trouble."

"How?"

"Well, I presume I will have to make a clean breast of it. Toglet is more or less insane. His folks do not care to place him in an asylum, and so I offered to take care of him for a while. It was his sudden fit of insanity that caused all of the trouble."

"What made you point your gun at me in the woods?" asked Ralph, who could not help but doubt Martin's story.

"I wanted you to stop so that I might have a chance to explain. I was afraid you would return home and have us arrested."

"After you pushed me over the cliff why didn't you try to find out whether I was dead or alive?"

"Please don't say I pushed you over. It was Toglet, and directly after you disappeared he turned on me and I had all I could do to keep him at bay."

"You don't look as if you had a very tough time with him," remarked Ralph, bluntly.

"Luckily, I am a strong man, and I soon overpowered him. But he then got a strange fit, and I knew I must get him to a doctor at once. So I took the boat and left the island. If I had thought that you were still alive you may rest assured I would not have left you behind."

Ralph hardly knew what to say. He did not believe that Martin was telling the truth, plausible as the villain tried to make his story appear.

"You took him to a doctor's?" he asked.

"I did. Then he got away and disappeared in the woods. I had just found him when I saw you. That is the whole story. Why, my young friend, what reason would I have for pushing you over the cliff?"

"I don't know," returned Ralph. "That is something I have been trying to find out."

"I had none in the world. I never saw nor heard of you previous to hiring your boat, and I might have hired anybody in Glen Arbor for that matter."

"How is it you are in New York now?" questioned Ralph, suddenly.

"I brought Toglet home to his folks."

"Does he belong here?"

"Yes. He lives but a few blocks from here. I will tell you what we had better do. We had better go to his home, and you can interview his folks and make sure that I have told you the truth about him. Perhaps he will even confess, if he is in a proper state of mind to do so."

Ralph hesitated. Martin spoke with so much apparent candor that he was half inclined to believe the man's story concerning Toglet's mental condition. Besides, as Martin had said, what reason could there have been for such an attack if it was not that of a madman?

"Come on, if only to please me," urged Martin. "You will find Toglet's mother a very nice old lady, and you will certainly believe her, even if you will not believe me."

"You say it is but a few blocks?"

"Not more than four. Come, I will show you the way."

Martin linked his arm in that of Ralph, and together they proceeded down the street.

Presently they came in sight of a large tenement house, although Ralph, being a country boy, did not recognize it as such.

"Here we are," said Martin. "Mrs. Toglet lives on the upper floor."

He led the way into the hallway and up the somewhat narrow and dirty stairs.

They passed up two flights, and then reached a floor which was not occupied. Martin threw a quick glance around and entered an empty room, the door of which stood open.

"They are getting ready to move up-town," he said. "This neighborhood is no longer nice enough for them."

Ralph followed him into the room. Hardly had he done so, when Martin slammed the door shut and sprang upon him.

Ralph was taken so off his guard that he went flat on his back. His head struck a block of wood that lay near, and for the moment he was dazed. Before he could recover, Martin had his hands bound with a strap he took from his pocket.

"Make a sound and I'll choke you!" he cried, in a warning tone.

Then he struggled to fix a gag in Ralph's mouth. A fierce fight ensued, but finally the rascal was successful. Then he bound Ralph's legs.

The poor boy was a prisoner at last!



CHAPTER XXXVI.

MICKETY TO THE RESCUE.

"That was easier done than I anticipated," muttered Martin, grimly, as he gazed down at his young prisoner. "Now what is best to do? It's good I remembered these rooms were empty."

He walked about the bare apartment and then paused to listen.

All was silent save for the rattle of the wagons and the shrill cries of the playing children in the street below.

"Humph! I thought I heard a footstep," he went on. "I must be getting nervous."

He left the apartment, and was gone several minutes. When he came back he raised Ralph in his strong arms as if the boy were a small child.

"Now I am going to lock you in a closet for a few hours," he said, harshly. "Don't you dare to attempt an escape, or it will be the worse for you, mind that!"

He walked with his burden to a rear room. Here was situated, in one corner, a large kitchen pantry, now bare of even the shelving.

Into the pantry Ralph was thrust, in a sitting position. Then the door was closed and bolted on him. Presently he heard Martin leave the room and hurry downstairs.

The poor boy was dazed and bewildered by the rough treatment he had received. For some time he sat where he had been placed, not daring to move for fear his tormentor would come back and finish his evil work.

"There is something behind it all," he thought, dismally. "Martin is doing this for some purpose. What can that purpose be?"

Ralph did not brood over the mystery long. As the minutes passed slowly by and Martin did not come back, the youth began to speculate on the chances of escape.

"If I could only get free of these cords I might burst open the door," he thought. "Let me see what I can do."

Ralph struggled manfully, but it availed him but little. He was no great contortionist, and his efforts resulted only in a painful laceration of his wrists and ankles. Martin had done his work well, and the bonds could not be severed without outside aid.

Five minutes more went by—to poor Ralph they seemed an age. Then the boy fancied he heard a light footstep without.

"Hullo! where are yer?" came in a clear but subdued voice, which Ralph was sure he had heard before.

The cry was repeated several times. In the meanwhile Ralph changed his position and began to kick upon the door.

"In the kitchen closet, dat's where he is!" exclaimed the voice, and the patter of bare feet came toward Ralph's prison.

A second later the bolt on the door was shot back. A flood of light came into the place and Ralph beheld the face and form of the bootblack he had become acquainted with at the entrance to the post office.

"I t'ought so!" exclaimed the bootblack. "Say, he's a corker ter treat yer dis way, ain't he?"

Then he saw how Ralph was gagged and bound, and he gave a low whistle of surprise.

"Gee! What's dis, highway robbery?" he cried.

In a trice he had out his pocketknife and with it he cut Ralph's bonds. Ralph himself removed the gag.

"Thank you, Mickety!" he ejaculated, as he sprang to his feet. "You are the friend in need!"

"I seen him leadin' yer up here, an' I t'ought it was mighty queer," said the bootblack. "Wot's de game?"

"I am as much in the dark as you, Mickety. That man has tried twice before to take my life."

"Gee! yer don't say!"

"It is true."

"Maybe he wants ter git a fortune away from yer, like der villain in der play."

"There is no fortune to get away—at least none that I ever heard of. But where has he gone?"

"He went down der street. I watched him around der corner before I came up, so as ter make sure I wouldn't be collared."

"We had best get out of here before he comes back," went on Ralph, after a moment's thought. "I do not wish to meet him again," and he shuddered.

"All right, come on."

"What brought you here?"

"I live across der street, an' I just come home fer me grub. I kin take yer ter our rooms if yer want ter come."

"I will tell you what I would like to do, Mickety. I would like to stay here until he comes back, and then follow him."

"Gee! dat's der ticket. Come on right over."

The bootblack led the way across the dirty and crowded street, and into an alleyway.

"Me home is back dere," he said, pointing to a rear tenement. "I don't suppose yer want ter come in, if yer goin' ter watch fer dat man."

"No, I will stay here," returned Ralph.

"I'll git a bit of grub an' den come out ag'in," said Mickety.

He ran off, leaving Ralph alone. The crowd of street children looked at the country boy, but they had seen him talking to Mickety, with whom they were well acquainted, and they did not offer to ask Ralph any questions or tease him, as they might an utter stranger.

In less than a quarter of an hour the bootblack was back, munching the last of a big doughnut.

"Ain't come yet?"

"Not yet, Mickety."

"Kin I stay an' help yer watch fer him?"

"If you wish, certainly."

"He may try to do yer ag'in, an' I kin call a cop."

"That is so. Yes, stay with me, and I will pay you for your trouble."

"Huh! don't want no pay, Mr. —— Yer didn't tell me yer name."

"Ralph Nelson."

"I ain't askin' fer no pay, Mr. Nelson. Dis sort of a job is nuthin' but fun."

"You may be of valuable assistance to me," went on Ralph. "I may have that man arrested. You can prove that he bound and gagged me, and locked me up in the closet."

"Dat's so."

"I want to find out what his object is. He may——"

Ralph broke off short and pointed across the street.

"Dat's him, true enough!" whispered Mickety, as Martin entered the tenement opposite. "Wot yer goin' ter do now?"

"Wait till he comes out."

This did not consume much time. In less than three minutes after he had entered the building, Martin came running out. He looked greatly disturbed and hurried down the street as fast as his long legs would carry him.

"Dere he goes!" exclaimed Mickety, in ill-suppressed excitement.

"Come on," returned Ralph. "He must not get out of our sight."

He started off, with the bootblack at his side. He looked at Mickety and saw that the little fellow's head was about the size of his own, and that he wore a large-brimmed soft hat.

"Let us trade hats for a while, Mickety. I can pull that down over my face."

The exchange was quickly effected. With the soft hat bent down Ralph knew he would stand a much greater chance of escaping detection at the hands of Martin than before.

On went the man and his followers for fully a dozen blocks. Then Martin turned into a very respectable side street, and, ascending the stone steps of a large brick mansion, rang the bell.

A man came to the door and let him in. Then the door was tightly closed once more.

"Dat's de end of dis case," muttered Mickety, in a disappointed tone.

"Not a bit of it, Mickety," returned Ralph. "See if you can hunt up a policeman. In the meantime I will watch the house so that this man does not get away."



CHAPTER XXXVII.

MARTIN IS TRAPPED.

Mickety at once went off to do as Ralph had requested. He was rather doubtful about a policeman listening to his tale, but he resolved to do his best.

In the meantime Ralph inspected the house, and wondered what sort of place it was, and what had brought Martin there. His inspection ended in disappointment, for nothing came to light.

Presently, however, a young girl came out of the basement of the house with a pitcher in her hand. She was evidently a servant girl. A milkman drove up, and from him she purchased a quart of milk.

Before she could return to the house, Ralph touched her on the arm.

"Excuse me, but I believe you live in that house," he said, pleasantly.

"I works there, sur," said the girl, in a strong Irish accent.

"Will you kindly tell me who lives there?"

"Mr. Martin Thomas, sur."

Ralph stared at this bit of information. Martin Thomas and the man he was after were most likely the same individual.

"Did he just come in?"

"Yis, sur."

"He lives there alone, does he?"

"Oh, no, sur. There's another family occupying the house, but they are away for the summer, sur."

"Oh. I see. Thank you."

"Did you wish to see Mr. Thomas, sur?"

"Is he busy?"

"He said he was going away, sur. He's at work packing up some things, I believe."

"Then I won't bother him. It isn't likely that he would want to buy a new History of the United States, is it?"

"Indeed not!" cried the girl, in deep disgust.

She at once took Ralph for a book agent, a set of men she thoroughly despised.

"I won't bother him," said Ralph, and walked away, while the girl hurried back into the basement.

"So he is going away," thought Ralph. "I must see to it that he does not get very far."