Three boys and an old man were sailing this craft. The three boys were Jerry, Harry and Blumpo. The man was Jack Broxton, the boathouse keeper.

The yacht was a new one, recently purchased by Harry Parker's father for the use of his son and Jerry.

"Do you remember what a row we had up around this island last summer with Si Peters, Wash Crosby and the rest of the Rockpoint crowd?" mused Jerry, as the yacht swung around the north point of Hermit Island, that spot where Blumpo had so strangely found his father.

"Don't I, though!" cried Harry. "I wonder if they are out of the reformatory yet for setting fire to the barn?"

"I heard da was," put in Blumpo, who now attended school regularly. "Si Peters got out las' month, an' Wash Crosby got out six weeks ago."

"Well, I hope they turn out better boys now," said Harry, seriously. "I don't see why they want to get into such trouble. A fellow can have lots of sport without doing wrong."

"By the way, Harry, the great yacht race comes off in Long Lake in a few weeks," said Jerry. "Why can't we take our yacht down through the river and be on deck to see it?"

"By golly, dat would be most splendiferous!" yelled Blumpo. "De best t'ing I've dun heard of dis Summah!"

"I've thought of it," returned Harry. He turned to the old tar. "Jack, could we take the Whistler down through Poplar River to Long Lake?"

"I reckon we could," was the slow answer, as Jack Broxton rolled his quid from one cheek to the other. "The water is running putty high now."

"It would be a fine trip in itself," went on Jerry. "I've never sailed down the Poplar beyond Carlville."

"Nor I," returned Harry. "But never mind that just now. Here we are at the landing."

"An' heah am my father's house," said Blumpo.

The former hermit, now, however, a hermit no longer, came out to greet his son. In the meantime all hands lowered sail and tied up.

It was a beautiful day, and the young oarsman and Harry had come over to the island to see what they could shoot. They left Jack in charge of the yacht and Blumpo with his father, and started off with guns and game bags for the interior.

"There can't be much game at this season of the year," said Harry. "But we may have a little sport, and tramping in the woods does a fellow lots of good."

"Indeed I know that," was the quick response. "Hullo, here's a nasty bit of bog to cross."

"We'll go around by yonder big tree."

The two boys went on in a semi-circle. When the big tree mentioned was reached Jerry stepped on what he supposed was one of the twisted roots.

A second later he let out a yell which was heard down to the landing.

He sprang back so suddenly that he bumped into Harry, who was close behind, and both rolled over in the wet grass.

Ere they could rise they heard an angry hiss, and a snake darted from the tree and settled directly upon Jerry's body!

For a moment Jerry was too paralyzed with fear to move or speak. Then as he recovered he threw off the snake and rolled away, over Harry and close to the boggy spot. Harry also turned away, but came up against a heavy mass of brush.

The snake hissed angrily. The pressure of Jerry's foot on its head had just been sufficient to arouse its anger. It meant to strike if it could.

"Hit it with your gun!" shouted Harry.

"You hit it!" cried our hero. "Oh!"

The snake was again coming on, its long, green body quivering in the spots of sunlight which shot under the trees. There was no doubt but what it intended to fight the intruders. More than likely it had a nest of young near.

Bang!

The shot was a square one, and when the smoke from the gun cleared away it was found that the reptile's head was completely severed from the body, which latter continued to twist about until it fell into the water of the bog hole. Jerry kicked the head in after it, out of sight.

"Let us get out of here," he said, with a shudder. "Who knows but what we have dropped into a regular nest of snakes."

That he was right in his surmise was soon evident, for low hissings could be heard on several sides. Without delay they sprang across the bog swamp and took to the higher ground, where they could see every foot of the way before them.

"I've had snakes enough to last me the rest of the summer," soliloquized Jerry. "I hate them worse than anything else in the world. Look!"

He pointed on ahead, to where there was a tree almost loaded with game birds. At a sign from Jerry both raised their guns and fired.

There was a flutter and a whirr, and then came a number of shrill cries from the birds which were wounded. These the boys at once proceeded to put out of their misery.

"Four birds," said Harry, as he counted the lot. "That wasn't bad, eh?"

"You're right, Harry. We won't get another such shot if we tramp all day."

"I move we get back to the yacht. We have come a good distance, and it will be more than dinner time before we can make it."

"I am with you. We can go out hunting again this afternoon, or try our hand at fishing."

With the birds in their bags, Jerry and Harry set out on the return to the landing.

On the way they talked over the great yacht races soon to come off, and also of the proposed trip through the Poplar River to the large lake beyond.

"It will be a dandy trip," said Jerry, and then he added, with much spirit: "How I would like to sail on one of the yachts and help win."

"So would I," rejoined Harry. "It would be great sport, not to say anything of the honor."

When the chums arrived at the boat-landing they found Blumpo and the others waiting for them. A camp fire was burning a short distance away from the log house, and over this the birds were done to a turn by the youth, while the others prepared some potatoes and coffee brought from the yacht.

Blumpo's father considered it a great holiday to have his son with him for the time being. He asked Blumpo how he was getting along with his studies, and was pleased to learn that the youth was making fairly good progress.

After dinner it was decided to sail around to the lower end of the island and try bass fishing, for which the lake was famous.

"And then we'll come back here and stay all night," said Jerry to the old man.

The lines were soon cast off and the main-sail and jib set, and as soon as they caught the breeze they swung around and down the lake at a speed of several knots an hour.

"Somebody else out besides ourselves," observed Jack Broxton, as he pointed to half a dozen sail-boats cruising around. "This year everybody has the yachting craze."

"It's great sport," returned Harry. "By the way," he went on, pointing to a large yacht coming up the lake on a long tack. "What boat is that?"

"She is called the Arrow, I don't know who owns her," was the old boatkeeper's reply.

"She is coming over this way. Let us stand out a little and see who is on board."

"Just as you say, sir."

"Yes; I'm curious about that yacht, too," put in Jerry.

The course of the Whistler was altered several points, and they left the vicinity of the island shore. As they drew closer to the big yacht Jerry uttered a cry of astonishment.

"By Jinks! It can't be possible!"

"What's up?" asked Harry, coming to his side.

"There are Si Peters and Wash Crosby on the deck of that yacht. I can see them as plain as day."

"Our old enemies!" murmured Harry.

"Da didn't lose no time in gittin' togedder after da got out of de 'formatory, did da," laughed Blumpo. "Da say de bad ones allers do stick like glue."

"Oh, maybe they'll be first-class chaps now," said Jerry, who was willing to let the past be forgotten.

"Don't you be too sure on that p'int, lads," put in Jack Broxton. "It's mighty hard to make anything out of a bad egg, and Si Peters and Wash Crosby are bad eggs if ever there were any."

"Dat's so, fo' suah," murmured Blumpo.

"Well, we won't have any words with them," said Jerry. "We'll let bygones be bygones."

"I would like to know where they got that yacht," said Harry. "It can't be possible Mr. Peters bought it for Si. When Si went to the reformatory he told father he intended to send his son to a military school and cut off his allowance."

"Maybe Si has promised to reform. Hullo! they are coming this way!"

Jerry sprang up in alarm, for the big yacht had suddenly veered around several points and was now coming head on toward them.

"We'll be run down!" shrieked Blumpo, in terror.

"The young fools!" muttered Jack Broxton. "Don't they know anything about steering?"

"The big yacht is evidently one too many for them. See, there is no one aboard but Si and Wash. Two hands are not enough for such a craft."

Nearer and nearer the two yachts came to each other.

Jack Broxton did his best to steer clear of the Arrow, but he was at a disadvantage. Soon the big yacht took away all the wind of the Whistler and she lay helpless.

"Keep off!" yelled Jerry, but the cry was unheeded.

Bang! Crash! The Arrow struck the Whistler on the bow, the long bowsprit ripping a hole in the main-sail.

Then came a smashing of woodwork and the Whistler began to sink.



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE ROBBERY OF THE ROCKPOINT HOTEL.

"We are lost!"

"Heaben sabe us!"

"Cling fast for your lives!"

A dozen other cries rang out, for the force of the collision was terrible.

But all clung fast and no one was thrown into the water, to be struck and perhaps instantly killed.

"What do you mean, Si Peters?" yelled Jerry. "You ran into us on purpose!"

There was no time to reply nor to say more. After the crash the two yachts drifted apart, and with a somewhat damaged bowsprit the Arrow went on her way.

As she slid by, Harry caught a glimpse of Wash Crosby holding fast to a big red valise, which had come near bounding overboard. He thought no more of it at the time, but had good reason to remember it later.

"What shall we do?" asked Jack Broxton.

"We've got a neat little hole in the side."

"Can we beach her on the island?" asked Harry. "I don't want the Whistler to go to the bottom of the lake."

"I reckon I can manage it. Just hold that bit of canvas over the hole."

Harry and our hero jumped to do as bidden, while Jack Broxton and Blumpo undertook to steer the yacht toward shore. The craft was becoming so water-logged that she acted clumsily, and they had their hands full.

"We is gwine down, suah!" groaned Blumpo, but as he spoke the keel grated on the sand, and a moment later she swung around hard and fast, and the danger of sinking was past.

While Jack and Blumpo lowered the sails, Harry and Jerry carried several lines ashore and tied them to the trees in such a fashion that the yacht could not pound herself, even if the wind came up.

After the sails were lowered old Jack inspected the damage done.

"I can patch the main-sail in an hour," he said. "But that hole at the bow will take three, and I ought to have more tools than I've got aboard."

"Can't we patch things up sufficiently to take her back into Lakeview?" asked Harry.

"Maybe we can. But it would be better on account of the wind to steer for Rockpoint. She couldn't stand the chop sea on the other course."

"All right; we'll steer for Rockpoint, and take her over to Dan Mason's boatyard."

Blumpo ran down the shore of the island to tell his father of what had happened. While he was gone the others patched up the break at the bow with some thin wood and a square of canvas, tacked on, and gave all a coating of pitch.

Half an hour later found the Whistler bound for Rockpoint. They had to sail along with great care, for fear of breaking open the patched place. Had this occurred they would all have gone to the bottom.

It was growing dusk when the harbor at Rockpoint was reached. At the dock they saw that something unusual had happened. A crowd of men were gathered about talking earnestly, and pointing up the lake.

"Whoever they were, they took a boat, I'm sure of that," said one man.

"That's so," said another.

"But who were they, and where did they go?" asked a third.

"Ah, that's for the police to find out."

Wondering what was up, Jack Broxton and the three boys brought the Whistler around to the boatyard and turned her over to Dan Mason. The old fellow, who was a first-class man at repairing boats of all kinds, promised to have the craft in good trim by noon of the next day.

"Did you hear the news?" he asked, after their business talk was at an end.

"What news?" asked Jerry.

"About the hotel being robbed."

"Robbed!"

"Exactly. A couple of thieves got into the safe and took a box of jewelry and four hundred dollars in cash."

"By George! dat am a loss!" ejaculated Blumpo.

"The jewelry is said to be worth nearly one thousand dollars."

"Have they any idea who the thieves were?"

"No, they wore handkerchiefs over their faces, with holes cut in 'em for to see. Some thinks as how they got away in one o' the boats lying up shore."

"How did they do the job?" questioned Jerry, with much interest.

"I didn't hear any of the particklers, boys."

"Come on up to the hotel and find out," said Harry. "We haven't got to hurry home this evening."

Side by side Harry and the young oarsman walked to the Rockpoint Hotel, a large place, now filled to overflowing with Summer boarders.

They found every one around the resort talking over the case. Presently Harry heard somebody say that the stolen money and box of jewels had been placed by the robbers into a large red valise belonging to the proprietor of the hotel. At once he called Jerry aside.

"I know who committed this robbery," he said.

"Who?"

"Si Peters and Wash Crosby."



CHAPTER XIX.

THE RED VALISE.

Of course Jerry was astonished at his chum's declaration.

"How do you know this?"

"They had that red valise. I saw it."

"Let us make a few more inquiries before we say anything," replied Jerry, slowly. "It's pretty bad to accuse anybody of such a crime as this."

They asked a number of people about the robbery, but could gain no information which would directly implicate Si Peters and his crony.

"We had better keep mum for the present, Harry."

"What, and let the robbers escape?"

"Oh, I don't want that to happen."

The two talked it over for awhile, and when they returned home they were much troubled. But that night word came from New York City which mystified them greatly.

A detective telegraphed he had captured two tramps who confessed to a hotel robbery on Lake Otasco.

"That settles it," said Harry. "We were all wrong, and I am glad we said nothing."

On the following day they rowed over to Rockpoint for the Whistler. They heard no more about the hotel robbery, and the matter almost slipped their minds. But they were destined ere long to remember the occurrence full well.

Jerry and Harry talked matters over with their parents and made plans to sail down the Poplar River to Long Lake, and go to the yacht races at once.

Jack Broxton was to accompany them. Unfortunately for Blumpo, his father was taken sick and the youth had to remain behind to attend him.

Bright and early the next day the trip was commenced.

It lasted two days and three nights, and then they found themselves out on Long Lake, a large and beautiful sheet of water.

Harry and Jerry had studied up all the newspaper reports concerning the race between the Defender, a splendid yacht from the Poplar River, and the Spray, a craft from up the lake, and they knew exactly where to go in order to see the race to the best advantage.

"I know the captain of the Defender well," said Harry. "He and father are old friends."

"Maybe he'll let you on his yacht then," said Jerry. "My, but wouldn't that be jolly!"

"I won't go without you," said Harry.

"I would like to be on that yacht myself," said old Jack Broxton, as they presently came in sight of the Defender, anchored a short distance from the starting point of the race.

"We'll run up and I'll hail the captain," said Harry.

This suited everybody, and it was done. The captain of the Defender was on deck seeing to it that everything was in order for the race. He greeted Harry with a pleasant wave of his hand.

"Can we come on board and take a look around?" asked Harry.

"Yes, but you won't have time to waste," was the captain's reply. "We've got to get down to the starting point soon."

The Whistler was run up alongside, and Harry and Jerry leaped on board of the Defender. They shook hands with the captain, and also with Frank Lee, the captain's nephew, a bright boy of their own age.

They were much interested in the magnificent yacht and all of her appointments, and laughed greatly when Frank Lee snatched off their caps and placed caps on them with the name of the Defender above the peaks.

"Now you fellows belong to the crew!" cried Frank Lee.

"All right, we'll help you beat the Spray," returned Jerry, quickly.

The captain overheard the remark and turned to Harry:

"Would you really like to remain on board during the race?"

"Indeed we would!" said Harry. "And we'll do duty, too, same as the rest of the crew, if you'll only keep us. You know both of us understand all about a regular yacht."

"Well, you can stay. I am short one man, and two boys ought to more than make up for him."

Perhaps Jerry and Harry were not delighted? They sent word to Jack Broxton, and then made themselves familiar with the great yacht, the pride of all on board.

Soon it was time to up anchor and make for the starting point. Jerry and Harry worked manfully at the ropes, and so did Frank Lee. No one is allowed to remain idle on a racing yacht. The least one can do is to rush to this side or that and thus make "ballast."

"All ready!" came the word, and the signal was given to start, and the Defender and the Spray were off.

Presently Jerry came over to the captain, who was at the wheel.

"Can we pass the Spray?" he asked, anxiously.

"We can try, Upton," was the reply. "Can you take the wheel for a minute. I must have a drink of water."

"Aye, aye, sir," said Jerry.

How proudly he took hold of the wheel! He was for the time being in absolute command of the Defender.

An extra breeze sprang up. They were sailing almost side by side with the Spray. Suddenly the Defender shot ahead. Our hero stuck to the wheel, while Harry and Frank Lee did their full share of work with the rest of the crew.

The Defender was ahead, but the race was not yet over.



CHAPTER XX.

THE MISHAP TO THE YACHT.

The young oarsman was not allowed to remain at the wheel long. Soon the captain of the Defender came up again and took charge.

"I see we have passed the Spray," he said. "That's a good one for you, Upton. Now we must keep ahead."

After turning the wheel over to the captain, Jerry moved forward to where Harry and Frank Lee were standing.

In the meanwhile the gallant yacht was cutting the water like a razor. The breeze was stiff, and they were running free before it. Soon the Spray was almost out of sight behind them.

"This Defender is a great boat," said Harry.

With the wind on the starboard quarter the Defender and the Spray reached along for over a mile at a six knots an hour gait.

Then the wind fell off to almost a calm.

"This is no good," observed Jerry.

"Fortunes of racing," laughed Harry.

"I would like to see another stiff breeze."

"We may catch more than enough before we have finished," put in Frank Lee.

The further on the two yachts went the lighter became the wind, and each in turn ran into "soft" spots, when balloon top-sails hung up and down idly.

But no matter how the wind came the Defender got along, leaving the Spray steadily behind.

It was a triangular course, of three miles to each side, and soon the first side was sailed.

The yachts wore around the first mark flat, leaving it on the port hand.

Baby jib top-sails had been sent down before the rounding, and spinnaker poles were now ready for the balloon sail.

With booms well off to port, the Defender led the way to the second stretch.

Sharp work was done in handling the spinnaker, for just one minute after rounding this big balloon was set and pulling.

This was clever work, but the Spray sailors did fully as as well, for they had their spinnaker on just as fast.

"Great Caesar!" ejaculated our hero, suddenly, "Look!"

Ashore the sky grew black and ominous, foreboding a coming squall.

The weather certainly looked bad, and it turned out worse than it looked.

Instead of wind, rain came on, and soon all on board the yachts were soaked.

"What do you think of that, Jerry?" asked Harry.

"We're going to catch it and no mistake," replied the young oarsman.

All hands on board saw the coming squall and looked at the captain for orders, but none came.

The yachts, favored by a strengthening breeze, were pushed on to meet that which was sure to come, and half-way over on the third stretch it came on hard and struck the Defender.

Bang! slash! went the sails and the gallant yacht swept well over on her side.

Again all looked to the captain, but he shook his head.

"Reckon he wants to see what she can stand," whispered Jerry.

He was right. The captain, at the wheel, held the yacht up to it, and held her true.

On and on they went, the sky growing blacker and blacker as they proceeded.

Suddenly Jerry heard a crack like a pistol shot, and looking forward saw that the standing part of the bridle to the jib had parted. The seizing pulled out and away went the sheets.

The sail snapped and cracked loudly, and in a second more it carried away the club on the clew of the jib.

"There she goes!" yelled somebody.

Hardly had he uttered these words when the big sail split in half and hung flapping in the wind.

It was now utterly useless to the racing yacht.

A new sail must be set at once, but in that high wind who would bring the old sail in?

"I'll volunteer!" cried Jerry, as he sprang forward, and Harry and Frank Lee came close on his heels.

The crew hung back for a moment, and in that time Jerry reached the flying sail.

He caught one end just as an extra heavy puff of wind came on, and in a twinkle he was dragged half overboard.

But now Harry and Frank Lee sprang to the rescue, and then the regular crew came forward. All worked like beavers, and soon the torn sail was taken off.

Six minutes later a new sail was in place, and on went the gallant Defender as speedily as before.

She carried herself well, and nothing was lost in that blow but the jib.

In the meanwhile the Spray could not stand the strain and ran on behind with all sails reefed.

"A great yacht," said those on the other boats. And the Defender stock went away up.

The captain praised Jerry for the quickness with which he had taken hold of the torn sail and steadied it.

"A loose sail on board a racing craft is a dangerous thing," he said, "for there is no telling how much damage it will do."

The squall was of short duration, not lasting over seven minutes, if as long. It gathered strength as it worked off shore, and some of the pleasure boats received the full benefit of it.

As the Defender got within two miles of the finishing line the breeze fell off.

Still the gallant craft held her own.

"The finish is in sight!" cried Jerry, presently.

He was right. A mile more and the race would be over.

Those on board of the Spray did their best to haul up to the Defender.

The effort did not avail them, for the Defender gained steadily.

At last the line was crossed.

The Defender had won the race by a lead of over half a mile, and she received a rousing reception.

Steam whistles blew their mightiest, flags waved, and the crowd on the other boats shouted themselves hoarse.

It was a great day, and one never to be forgotten.

"That settles it," said Harry. "The Defender is the champion yacht of the club."

It was not long after this that the Whistler ran up and took Jerry and Harry on board. Old Jack Broxton had seen the race and was greatly pleased.

The boys resolved to anchor the Whistler off the upper shore of Long Lake that night.

"We'll leave Jack in charge and take a trip down to Harmony Beach," suggested Harry.

This suited Jerry, and by half past six the two boys were on board the open cars on their way to the great Summer resort. They enjoyed the ride very much, especially Jerry who had never been to the beach before. They visited the hotels and had supper, and then listened to a band concert.

It was after eleven o'clock before they were ready to return to the Whistler.

As they were making their way back to the cars Jerry caught Harry by the arm.

"Look! Look!"

Harry looked, and in a crowd of people saw Wash Crosby. Not far away stood Si Peters.

Both were swaggering around as if they had plenty of money and wanted everybody to know it.

"What shall we do?" asked Harry.

"I hardly know," replied Jerry. "I feel certain in my mind that they robbed the Rockpoint Hotel in spite of what the detectives think."

"So do I. But we can't prove it."

The two boys resolved to watch Peters and Crosby and try to overhear any private talk they might have.

Peters and Crosby entered a large music hall and sat down at one of the tables.

Motioning to Harry, our hero led the way to the side of the building.

A board was off, and by standing near the opening they could hear everything Si Peters and Wash Crosby said.



CHAPTER XXI.

WORDS AND BLOWS.

The very first words spoken by Si Peters confirmed the young oarsman's suspicious.

"What did you do with the valise, Wash?" he asked.

"Left it on the yacht at the cove," replied Wash Crosby.

"That's where you made a big mistake."

"How so?" growled the toady.

"They might take it into their heads to search the yacht."

"Oh, I guess not."

"We don't want to run any chances of being found out."

"We're all right; don't worry."

"Perhaps we are and perhaps we are not."

"Oh, keep still, and let us enjoy the music," growled Crosby, for an orchestra was now playing.

A waiter came up and Si Peters gave an order. Jerry was quite sure he had ordered something stronger than what he was in the habit of drinking at home. It was evident that the bully of Rockpoint had turned out even worse than before.

"What shall we do?" whispered Harry.

"We ought to inform the police."

"Just my idea of it."

"I don't know if there are any officers around here."

"Oh, there must be."

They looked around, but in the darkness no policeman could be seen.

"You stay here and I'll go hunt up somebody," said Jerry.

Scarcely had he spoken, however, when their attention was attracted to a row that was taking place in the concert hall. Two men were fighting, and presently a chair flew through the air.

At once those sitting around tried to retire.

Peters and Crosby rushed out in the crowd, and not to lose sight of the pair Jerry and Harry went after them.

Fifty feet from the concert hall the four came face to face. Si Peters started back, and Wash Crosby wanted to run for it.

"Who—what?" stammered Peters.

"We have caught you," said Jerry, boldly. "You may as well give in."

"What do you mean?"

"We know that that you robbed the Rockpoint Hotel," said Harry.

"It's not so," cried Crosby.

"Shut up!" hissed Si Peters.

Without warning he hit Jerry a sharp blow in the face. Then he rushed at Harry and tripped him up.

"Come on!" he yelled to Crosby "We must get away!"

Like a deer he ran off, behind a large roller coaster where all was dark.

Jerry stopped Peters, but only for a moment. Heavy blows were exchanged and then Peters followed his chum.

"They are gone, sure enough!" cried Harry, in dismay.

And gone they were, swallowed up in the crowd which surged on all sides of them.

Jerry and Harry searched in vain for the two evil-doers and then hunted up the police and told their story.

A watch was set, but Si Peters and Wash Crosby managed to escape from the beach resort without being detected.

Jerry and Harry returned to Lakeview with the Whistler, and the report spread that Si Peters and Wash Crosby had robbed the hotel.

At first Mr. Peters refused to believe it. He came over to Jerry's home, and threatened Mr. Upton with a lawsuit.

But the farmer quickly silenced him.

"Don't say a word to me, Mr. Peters," he said. "A boy that will try to tar and feather another boy, and then set fire to a barn and burn up cattle, isn't none too good to rob a hotel."

"My son is as good as yours!" growled Mr. Peters, and went off in a perfect rage. But he bothered the Uptons no more, nor did he go near the Parkers.

The lake was searched, and the yacht found up at the cove Si Peters had mentioned. On board was found the valise taken from the hotel.

After this detectives were sent out to find the two young rascals. But Si Peters and Wash Crosby kept out of sight.

Yet the day of reckoning was not far off, as we shall soon see.

About a week after this Harry invited Jerry to a drive along the west shore of Lake Otasco.

As they bowled along they talked over all sorts of matters, and presently Harry mentioned Si Peters and Wash Crosby.

"I wonder if they are still hanging around Harmony Beach?" he said.

"Oh, I don't think they would dare," replied Jerry. "They must know by the newspapers that the detectives are on their track."

"I wish we could bring them to justice. It would be a feather in our cap."

"So it would, Harry. But I would rather have the law do the work. I never want to have anymore to do with either of them."

It did not take the two boys long to drive to the lower end of the lake. Here the team was put up at a livery stable, and the chums hired bathing suits and houses, and spread themselves for a fine dip in the lake.

The water was just right, and they enjoyed every second of the half hour they allowed themselves.

It was eight o'clock in the evening before they went to get their team again.

The moon was just coming up over the rim of the lake and this promised them a splendid drive back to Lakeview.

As Harry and our hero entered the turnout two figures stole up from the back of the barn.

The pair were Si Peters and Wash Crosby.

They ran on ahead, and as the boys waited to settle with the livery stable keeper they soon disappeared.

Harry drove, and the young oarsman leaned back and took it easy.

A mile was covered, and they were just passing a clump of bushes when whizz! a stone came flying into the carriage. It struck Jerry on the arm, causing him to cry with pain.

"Who threw that?" he exclaimed.

Whizz! came another stone. It struck Harry in the cheek, drawing blood.

"Whoa!" yelled Jerry, and while the horses were still in motion, he leaped to the road.

He had noted the direction from which the missiles came, and bound off, but behind the bushes all was dark.

"Look out for yourself!" cried Harry.

He was busy with the horses, who were shying first to one side and then to the other.

At first Jerry could see nothing, but soon he discovered two forms in the semi-darkness.

He rushed over and found himself face to face with Si Peters and Wash Crosby.

"Peters!" he ejaculated.

Scarcely had he spoken when a club was raised. Jerry tried to avoid the descending blow, but was only partly successful.

The club landed over his shoulder and neck and he was more than half stunned.

"Come!" he heard Peters whisper to Crosby, and then all became a confused whirl and he pitched forward in the grass.

The two rascals ran out into the road.

"That for you, Harry Parker!" yelled Si Peters, and struck Harry in the knee with the club.

In the meantime Wash Crosby sprang half into the carriage.

He made a grab at Harry's gold watch chain.

The chain broke from the buttonhole and along with it came Harry's beautiful timepiece.

"I'll keep this to remember you by!" cried Wash Crosby in derision, and away he sped across the highway and down a side road, with Si Peters at his heels.



CHAPTER XXII.

ANOTHER BOAT RACE.

The horses now demanded all of Harry's attention. One of them was bound to run away, and the youth had all he could do to hold the animal in check. But the lad knew what he was doing and presently held them under complete control.

Then our hero staggered out of the bushes with his hand on his neck, where a big lump was rising.

"Where are they?"

"Gone! Did they rob you, Jerry?"

"No."

"Then you are in luck."

"What do you mean, Harry?"

"Crosby took my gold watch and chain."

"Never!"

"He did. Jerry, those two chaps have turned nothing but common thieves," went on Harry, bitterly.

"It certainly looks so, Harry. What shall we do now?"

"Jump in and we'll go after them."

Jerry was soon beside Harry, and they turned up the side road taken by the fugitives. The moon was out full, making the way as light as day, yet nothing was to be seen of the rascally pair.

This was not to be wondered at, for after running along the road but a few hundred feet, Si Peters and Wash Crosby had taken to an open field. Crossing this, they came out upon a railroad track. A freight train was coming along slowly, around the bend of the lake, and they had had small trouble in boarding this. Inside of an hour they were many miles away from the vicinity.

Jerry and Harry searched for the pair until midnight, and then gave up the hunt and returned to Lakeview. Once again the authorities were notified, and the detectives started on a fresh hunt for the evil-doers. Yet it was destined to be a long time before Si Peters and Wash Crosby were heard of again.

About this time the Lakeview boat club was organizing another series of rowing races, and both Harry and Jerry were easily persuaded to enter a contest, which was to take place between a number of local oarsmen.

A prize of a fine bicycle had been put up, also several other articles of more or less value, and Jerry and Harry immediately went into training, with a firm determination to win.

There were seven entries, all by young fellows of Jerry's age, and as the youth looked at his opponents he felt that the race would be no easy one.

Saturday afternoon, the time appointed for the contest, came, bright and clear, and it found the lake front crowded to its utmost capacity. Many came over from Rockpoint, but it was noticed that those who had belonged to Si Peters' crowd were absent.

The race was to be two miles long, up the lake and back again. The boats were all drawn up in a line, and everything was made ready for a start. Jerry was at one end of the line, with Harry at the other, and the remaining five contestants between them.

Bang! went the gun on the judges' boat, and away shot the seven rowers like one man; and the race was begun.

For over half a mile the seven contestants kept almost side by side. Then three of them were seen to drop behind.

"Gravling is ahead!"

"Harry Parker is second."

"Phil Raymond is a close third!"

"Jerry Upton is crawling up!"

So the shouting went on, as the four leaders swept past. When the turning point was reached, Harry led, Raymond came second, Gravling third, and Jerry fourth. The remaining three felt they were out of the race, and rowed back to the boathouse.

"Good for you, Harry!"

"What's the matter, Jerry? You're not doing as good as the day you beat Si Peters!"

"Hurry up, Gravling!"

"Pull for all you know how, Raymond!"

On and on came the four, their long blades flashing brightly in the sunshine. They were making fast time, and, no matter who won, the lake record was likely to be broken.

Half way down the homestretch, Harry still led, with Gravling but half a length behind him. A length further back came Raymond and Jerry, side by side.

But the terrific speed was now beginning to tell upon Raymond, and slowly but surely he fell behind, despite the urgings of his friends. Then Jerry set to work to overtake Gravling.

"See Jerry Upton crawling up!"

"Oh, but isn't that a beautiful stroke!"

"Gravling can't shake him off!"

"They are a tie!"

The last cry was true. When still a dozen lengths from the finish Jerry had overtaken Gravling. But they did not remain tie long. Half a dozen strokes and Jerry shot ahead and the bow of his craft overlapped Harry's stern. "Jerry Upton is second!"

"He's going to shake up Harry Parker for first place!"

On came the two friends, but now it was noticed that Jerry, although he still rowed his best, seemed to be losing his interest in the race.

"It will be no fun to beat Harry," was the thought which ran through his head; and then, with a yell from three thousand throats, Harry crossed the line a winner, with our hero not quite half a boat length behind.

"Hurrah for Harry Parker!"

"Hurrah for Jerry Upton!"

Cheer after cheer rent the air, and both lads were immediately surrounded by their friends. Jerry was one of the first to shake his chum's hand.

"You won it fairly, Harry," he said. "What kind of time did we make?"

He was greatly pleased to learn that the lake record for two miles had been lowered by forty-three seconds, and that he had helped lower it by forty-two seconds.

That evening the club held a meeting, and Harry was presented with the bicycle, something he had been wishing for for some time. Jerry's prize was a silver watch and chain.

"This just suits me," he said. "Now, when I'm away from home, I'll be able to tell what time it is."

The celebration was at its height, when a message came for Jerry from his home, stating that his father had been kicked by one of the horses and was badly injured.

This news shocked the youth a good deal, and bidding his friends a hasty good-night, the young oarsman set off for the farm on a run.

He found his father lying on a couch in the dining-room. A doctor had just arrived, and he was doing all that he could for the sufferer.

"Where did the horse kick him, mother?" he questioned, hurriedly.

"In the side, right under the heart," replied Mrs. Upton. "Oh, I do trust it is not serious!"

"So do I. What can I do?"

"I don't know. We must see what the doctor says."

The medical man, after a long examination, declared that several ribs had been fractured, and that Mr. Upton was suffering from shock. Some medicine was administered, and the patient was carefully carried upstairs and placed upon a bed.

No one in the farmhouse slept that night. Mrs. Upton sat by her husband's side, and Jerry came and went, ready to do anything that might be asked of him.

Two days later the doctor pronounced the wounded man out of danger. But his injuries were severe, and it would be a long while before Mr. Upton would be able to go around as before.

His enforced idleness made the farmer fret a good deal. It was true that the harvest work on the farm was over, but he had wished to do much more.

"And I reckon that trip to New York is now out of the question," Jerry heard him say to Mrs. Upton.

"Why, father, were you going to New York?" asked the boy, in much curiosity.

"I had an idea that way, son," returned Mr. Upton, slowly. "I was going on business," he added, after a pause.

At this Jerry was more curious than ever. New York was over two hundred miles from Lakeview, and he had never heard of his parent having business in the metropolis.

"You see it's this way, Jerry," said Mr. Upton, noticing his look. "When your uncle Charley died he left all his property to me. Some time ago I was cleaning out one of his old trunks and I ran across some deeds to property in California. From what I can make out the land must be nigh to the city of Sacramento."

"And the property belongs to you?" cried Jerry.

"No, I can't say that exactly. As near as I can figure it, your uncle Charley owned an interest in it. The property was in the hands of a land boomer named Alexander Slocum, and there was a letter in the trunk from this Alexander Slocum which was dated from New York. I think this boomer holds other papers relating to the land, and I was thinking of making a trip to New York and hunting him up, if he is still there."

"Why not let me go to New York in your place," suggested Jerry, quickly. It had always been the ambition of his life to pay a visit to the great metropolis.

"Well, I was kind of thinking of that, son," returned the sick man, slowly. "I'll see about it in a day or two."



CHAPTER XXIII.

JERRY STARTS ON A JOURNEY.

Now that the matter had once been talked over, the young oarsman was very anxious to know all about the property in California, and his mother brought forth the deeds and other papers found in the old trunk.

The boy studied the documents with care. He knew but little of the law, yet he felt that if the land mentioned in the papers was valuable his father's share, as heir to his uncle, must be considerable.

"I would like to ask Mr. Parker about this," he said to his folks, but Mr. Upton shook his head. He was a very retired man and never brought his affairs to the ears of any outsider.

"The whole thing might prove worthless," he said, "and then we would be laughed at by our neighbors."

"I'd risk it," said Jerry, but his father only shook his head again.

Nevertheless Mr. Upton appeared to be favorably impressed with the idea of Jerry's going to New York to hunt up Alexander Slocum.

"It won't do any harm," he said to his wife. "I have money for the fare in the house, and it will give Jerry a chance to see a bit of the world."

Mrs. Upton was doubtful, but when Jerry begged to go she finally consented. Long talks about the western land and Alexander Slocum followed, and the youth prevailed upon his folks to let him take the deeds and papers with him, promising that he would take the best of care of them.

"And while I'm in New York I'm going to look around for a situation, and earn a little money," said Jerry. "Who knows but what I may strike even a better opening than that Mr. Parker has promised me at his shoe factory."

"It's not likely a lad off the farm can strike much," smiled his mother, yet she was pleased at Jerry's earnestness.

Three days later Jerry was off, valise in hand. He had bid good-bye to Harry and Blumpo, telling them he was going to New York on some private business for his father. His mother saw him to the train and kissed him affectionately.

"Take good care of yourself, Jerry," she said. "And remember, New York is an entirely different place from Lakeview or Rockpoint, and you must have your eyes and ears open to avoid trouble."

"I'll take care of myself, don't worry mother," and two minutes later the train came along and he was off.

Yet it must be confessed that our hero felt just a bit strange as he settled back in the cushioned seat, with his valise beside him. He was going over two hundred miles from home and among total strangers.

"I suppose it will be different from knocking around Lakeview, Rockpoint or even Long Lake," he mused. "I'll have to brace up and watch myself, or they'll take me for a regular greeny."

As the train moved on, Jerry revolved the situation in his mind. He knew he would arrive in the metropolis late in the afternoon, and determined to seek a boarding-house first of all, knowing it would be useless to hunt for any trace of Alexander Slocum after office hours.

At last the run through green fields and small towns and cities came to an end, and the train ran into the Grand Central Depot at Forty-second Street, and Jerry alighted in a crowd and made his way to the street.

"Cab! coupe! This way for the Central Hotel! Evening paper! Sun or World!"

A hundred cries seemed to start up all in an instant, making Jerry's ears ring. The rattle of the carts and trucks on the pavement was also new, and for the moment, the Lakeview boy did not know which way to turn.

"Carry yer baggage?" queried a bare-foot boy, and almost caught his valise from his hand. But the young oarsman pulled it back and shook his head, and got out of the crowd as quickly as he could, starting eastward for he had heard that the cheaper boarding houses lay in that direction.

It was not long before the boy came to several places which displayed the sign, Boarding. But the first two were too elegant, and Jerry passed them without stopping. Then came a third, and ascending the steps Jerry rang the bell.

An elderly lady answered the summons, a sharp-faced woman with powdered hair.

"You take boarders here?" queried Jerry.

"We do, young man," she answered, in a voice that made our hero far from comfortable.

"I expect to stay in New York a week or two, and I—"

"We don't take transients," she snapped. "Only regular boarders with first-class references," and she shut the door in Jerry's face.

He was glad enough to escape to the pavement, feeling satisfied that he would not have cared to have boarded there, even had she been willing to take him in.

A block further on was another place, a modest brick residence, set back behind a small plot of green. Thinking this looked inviting, and not reasoning that the spot of green was as valuable as a brown-stone building would have been, Jerry entered the garden and made known his wants to the servant who was dusting the piazza chairs.

She called the lady of the house, who on hearing what Jerry had to say, smiled in a motherly way.

"I hardly think I can take you in, my boy," she said. "Do you know how much I charge a week?"

"No, ma'am."

"Twelve to fifteen dollars for a single room and not less than ten otherwise."

Jerry almost gasped for breath.

"That is twice what I can afford to pay," he returned. "Gracious! I had no idea rates were so high."

"That is not high, here in New York. But perhaps I can direct you to a place that will suit. I have a friend three blocks over. Here is her card," and she handed it over.

Thanking her, the young oarsman got out without delay. He was glad she had directed him, for now he was certain he would at least strike a place that would fit his pocket-book.

Jerry went on until he came to an avenue down which the elevated cars were running. They were a great novelty and he paused on the corner to watch several of the trains rattle along overhead.

As Jerry was about to move on, he heard a wild cry of alarm from the second story window of a house opposite. Looking in the direction, he saw a girl pointing up the street to where a baby-carriage had rolled from the pavement to the gutter, overturning itself and spilling a little child into the street.

The youth ran in the direction with the idea of picking the child up. As he did this an ice-wagon came along at a furious speed, the driver on the seat trying in vain to stop his horse.

The ice-wagon was heading directly for the child and unless something was done the little one would be run over and most likely killed. With his heart in his throat our hero threw down his valise and leaped to the rescue. In another instant the runaway horse was fairly on top of the lad.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE WORK OF A REAL HERO.

Jerry's heart was in his throat when he sprang to the rescue of the little child in the street. He saw that the horse attached to the ice-wagon could not be stopped and realized only too well what it meant should he be struck down.

Yet the sight of that innocent face nerved him on, and in less time than it takes to write it he had the child in his arms. Clinging to the little one, he flung himself backward, and like a flash the horse sprang past, dragging the ice-wagon so close that the wheels scraped his leg.

A shout went up from the crowd, but Jerry did not hear what was said. Staggering up, he ran back to the sidewalk, leaving the baby-carriage a wreck behind him.

In another moment the girl who had given the first cry of alarm was at Jerry's side.

"Is he hurt? Is little Tommy hurt?" she cried, as she snatched the youngster from Jerry's arms.

"Me fell in the dirt," lisped the little one. "Me ain't hurt, but me awful dirty."

"Never mind the dirt, dear," cried the girl. "I am thankful you escaped. Mary, why didn't you take better care of him?"

The last words were addressed to an Irish girl who had just sauntered up.

"I went to get a hoky-poky at the corner," replied the girl. "I don't care to mind yer brother any more anyway," she added, and darted out of sight into the crowd.

Seeing the little boy was uninjured, the crowd moved on, and presently the young oarsman found himself alone with the girl, who appeared to be several years older than himself.

"You are a brave boy," she said, warmly. "I would like to reward you, but I am poor."

"I don't want any reward," replied Jerry, stoutly. "It was a close shave, though."

"You look like a stranger around here."

"I am—I just arrived in New York and I am looking for a boarding-house. Can you tell me where this one is?" and Jerry showed her the card the lady had given him.

"Oh, yes; it is one block over to your left—a real nice house, too. May I ask your name?"

"Jerry Upton."

"Mine is Nellie Ardell, and this is my brother Tommy. We are alone here."

"Haven't you any folks?"

"No. Mother was with us up to last winter, but she had consumption and died."

The tears stood in Nellie Ardell's eyes as she spoke. Jerry saw at once that she had had a hard struggle of it.

"What do you do for a living?" he ventured to ask.

"I do sewing and mending for my neighbors—principally mending for the girls who work in the stores."

"And can you make much that way?"

"Not a great deal. But I try to make enough to pay the rent and store bills. May I ask what you are going to do in New York?"

"I came to find a real estate dealer named Alexander Slocum. I want to see him about some property left by my uncle to my father. Have you ever heard of him?"

"Heard of him?" she cried in surprise. "He is my landlord."

Jerry was dumfounded by this unexpected bit of information.

"You are certain?"

"Why, of course I am. He was around to see me only day before yesterday about the rent. I am a bit behind, and I had to put him off."

"And what kind of a man is he?"

"I think he is very hard-hearted. But then, that may be because I am behind in my payment. He threatened to put me out of my rooms if I didn't pay when he called again."

"How many rooms have you?"

"Only two, and I pay six dollars a month for them."

"And how far behind are you?"

"I only owe for the month."

"And he won't trust you even that long? He certainly must be mean," Jerry rejoined warmly.

"You said something about property belonging to your father," said Nellie Ardell. "Has Mr. Slocum an interest in it?"

"He has and he hasn't," the boy replied, and he told his story in a few words as they walked along to the entrance of the house in which she lived.

"Well, I trust you get your right, Jerry Upton," said the girl. "Come and see me some time."

"I will," and after Jerry had procured Alexander Slocum's office address from her, the pair separated.

Jerry was very thoughtful as he proceeded on his way. By a turn of fortune he had gotten on Slocum's track much quicker than expected. The question was, how should he best approach the man?

"I'll settle that after I have procured a boarding place," he thought, and hurried to the address given him.

Mrs. Price, the landlady, was a very nice old person. She had a top room in the back she said she would let with board, for five dollars a week, and Jerry closed with her without delay, paying for one week in advance.

This finished, our hero found he was hungry, and after a washing-up, ate supper with a relish. He could not help but notice that the vegetables and milk served were not as fresh as those at home, but remembered he was now in the city and not on a farm, and did not complain.

Mrs. Price had taken in another new boarder that day, a tall, slim man, possibly thirty years of age. He was introduced as Mr. Wakefield Smith, and he did all he could to make himself popular. Jerry felt that a good bit of his pleasantry was forced, but as there was no use in finding fault, he became quite friendly with the man.

"Supposing we take a walk out together this evening?" Wakefield Smith suggested. "No doubt you would like to see the sights."

"I'll go out for an hour or so," answered the young oarsman, and they started while it was yet light.

Mr. Wakefield Smith knew the metropolis from end to end, and as the pair covered block after block, he pointed out various buildings. He smoked constantly, and several times invited Jerry to have a cigar, but the youth declined.

"Supposing we have a drink, then?" he urged.

Again Jerry declined, which made the man frown. He insisted Jerry should at least have some soda water with him, and at last the boy accepted, and they entered rather a modest looking drug store on a side street.

"Hullo! what's that crowd on the street?" exclaimed Mr. Wakefield Smith, as the glasses were set out, and as Jerry looked out of the doorway he fancied the man shoved up close to where his glass was standing and made a movement as if to throw something into it.

Jerry saw nothing unusual in the street, and the man's manner made him suspicious, so that he hesitated about drinking the soda. He swallowed a small portion of it and threw the remainder in a corner.

"What's the matter, don't you like it?" demanded Wakefield Smith, almost roughly.

"No, it's bitter."

"Humph!" He growled something under his breath. "I'll not treat you again," he went on, as they came out on the street.

What Jerry had taken of the soda had made his head ache, and this caused the young oarsman to grow more suspicious than ever. He had read in a daily paper about folks being drugged by friendly strangers, and resolved to be on guard.

The pair passed on the distance of a block, and then Jerry announced his intention of returning home to the boarding-house.

"Oh, don't go yet," urged Mr. Wakefield Smith. "Come on across the way. There are some beautiful pictures in an art store window I want to show you. One of the pictures is worth ten thousand dollars."

He caught our hero by the arm and hurried him over the way and into the crowd. Jerry was jostled to the right and left, and it was fully a minute before he squeezed himself out to a clear spot. Then he looked around for Mr. Wakefield Smith, but the man was gone.

Like a flash Jerry felt something had gone wrong. He put his hand in his pocket. His money was missing!



CHAPTER XXV.

A FRUITLESS SEARCH.

"Less than half a day in New York and robbed! Oh, what a greeny I have been!"

Thus Jerry groaned to himself as he searched first one pocket and then another. It was all to no purpose, the money was gone and he was left absolutely penniless.

The young oarsman was certain that Mr. Wakefield Smith had robbed him. He had been wary of the man from the start, and now blamed himself greatly for having given the rascal the chance to take the pocket-book.

Without loss of time Jerry darted into the crowd again, looking in every direction for the thief. He was so eager, he ran plump into an old gentleman, knocking his silk hat to the pavement.

"Hi! hi! stop, you young rascal!" puffed the man, as Jerry stooped and restored the tile to him. "What do you mean by running into me in this fashion?"

"Excuse me, but I have been robbed! I want to catch the thief."

"Robbed?"

"Yes, sir."

The gentleman nervously felt to see if his money and watch were safe. Several others heard the words, and they gathered around Jerry.

"Who robbed you?"

"How much did you have?"

"Why didn't you hold the thief?"

Before Jerry could answer any of the questions a policeman came forward and touched him on the shoulder.

"Are you the boy said he was robbed?"

"Yes, sir."

"What were you robbed of?"

"A pocket-book containing nearly thirty dollars."

"Did you see the thief?"

"I believe it was a man I was walking with. He called himself Wakefield Smith."

The policeman questioned Jerry closely, and then took a good look around for the individual. Later on, boy and officer walked to Mrs. Price's boarding-house.

Here it was learned that Mr. Wakefield Smith had not paid any board money, giving as an excuse that he had nothing less than a one-hundred-dollar bill and that he would pay in the morning. It also came to light that he had walked out with Mrs. Price's silver-handled umbrella, worth eight dollars.

"The villain!" she cried. "I hope the police catch him!"

"You don't wish it more than I do," returned the young oarsman, dolefully. "He took my last dollar."

Acting on the policeman's advice, Jerry walked around to the nearest precinct station and made a complaint, giving the best description of Mr. Wakefield Smith he could.

"We will do our best to capture him," said the captain in charge, and with this promise the youth had to be content.

My readers can imagine our hero did not spend a restful night. He lay awake for several hours speculating on the turn affairs had taken. His board was paid for a week, but that was all. He did not even have money to pay car fare back to Lakeview.

"I wonder what mother and father would say if they knew?" he thought. "I won't let them know until there's nothing else to do."

Jerry arose early the next day and got breakfast before any of the other boarders.

"I must find something to do without delay," he explained to Mrs Price. "A fellow without a dollar in his pocket can't afford to remain idle."

"You have a week's board coming to you," she said, with a faint smile.

"Yes, but I haven't even the price of a car fare in my pocket."

"Well, Mr. Upton, I like your looks, and if you'll accept it I'll loan you a couple of dollars. I suppose it was partly my fault that Smith robbed you. But don't blame me, I've suffered, too."

"I will accept the loan gladly, Mrs. Price. I don't like to go around without a cent. I will pay you back as soon as I can."

"I know you will. I may have been deceived in that Smith, but I am certain I am not in you," added the landlady.

With the two dollars tucked away in a safe place, Jerry left the house. He knew it would be useless to go to Alexander Slocum's office at such an early hour, and determined to look around in the hope of striking something whereby he might earn at least enough money to last him while stopping in New York.

"I won't write home unless I have to," he muttered to himself. "My time is my own and I'll make the most of it while I'm here."

Getting one of the dollar bills changed, Jerry bought a morning paper and looked over the Help Wanted—Males—column, and noted several addresses.

"I'll try them and lose no time," he thought, and hurried to the nearest store where a boy was wanted.

He was surprised to find a dozen applicants ahead of him. Worse than that, a boy had already been hired; so all of the others were forced to leave.

Jerry next tried a florist's establishment. But here a boy was wanted who understood the city thoroughly, and he was quickly told he would not do.

Jerry walked from one place to another for three hours without success. Somewhat disheartened, he strolled into a park close to Broadway and sat down.

The situation was certainly a serious one, and the young oarsman was decidedly sober in mind as he sat there, staring vacantly at the hurrying throng.

"Well, young man, how did you make out last night?"

The question came from a bench just behind Jerry. Looking around, he saw sitting there the gentleman he had run into while trying to find Wakefield Smith.

"I didn't make out at all, sir."

"Couldn't find him, eh?"

"No, sir."

"Those pickpockets are slick chaps, and no mistake," went on the gentleman.

"Did you lose much?"

"All I had—nearly thirty dollars."

"Phew! that is too bad. Well, I wouldn't sit down to mope about it. You might as well get to work and earn the amount over again."

"The trouble is, I can't find any work," answered the boy, earnestly. "I would work fast enough if I could only find it to do."

"You are out of a situation?"

"Yes, sir."

"Since when?"

"Since I came to New York," answered Jerry.

"You are about as bad off as I was some forty years ago," said the man, with a broad smile. "At that time I found myself in this city, with just twenty-five cents in my pocket. But I struck employment, and rose from one place to another until now I am my own master, with a bookbinding-shop where I employ nearly fifty hands."

As he spoke he gazed at Jerry curiously.

"You were going to ask me for a job, weren't you?" he went on, and Jerry nodded. "What can you do?"

"I'm not used to any such work, sir. But you'll find me willing and strong—and honest. I would like to earn a little before I went back to my home."

"Well, those three qualities you mention are sure to win, my boy. Perhaps I can find an opening for you. Here comes a friend I have been waiting for. I am going out of town with him. Call at my shop to-morrow morning, if you don't strike anything in the meantime."

And, handing out his card, Mr. Islen walked rapidly away.

Fifteen minutes later found Jerry on the way to Alexander Slocum's office. In an inner pocket he carried the papers his father had unearthed from the trunk in the garret at home.



CHAPTER XXVI.

ALEXANDER SLOCUM IS ASTONISHED.

Jerry felt that his mission to the real estate man was a delicate one. What would he have to say when he learned who the youth was and what he had come for?

The boy resolved to be on guard. He might be from the country and green, but no one should catch him napping, as had Mr. Wakefield Smith.

The distance to the address furnished by Nellie Ardell was nearly a dozen blocks, but Jerry was used to walking and made the journey on foot.

The young oarsman found Alexander Slocum's set of offices located on the top floor of an old-fashioned four-story office building. There was an elevator, however, and this Jerry used and soon found himself in front of a ground-glass door, which bore the sign:

Alexander Slocum, Real Estate and Fire Insurance. Loans Negotiated.

There was a hum of voices from within, but the hum ceased as Jerry knocked.

"Come in," was the short invitation, and the boy entered, to find a large apartment, comfortably furnished with desks, stuffed chairs and other things which went to show that the man he had come to interview was doing well.

Near an open window sat two gentlemen dressed in black. One was much older than the other, and Jerry rightfully guessed that he was an office assistant.

The other man was well preserved, with a waxed mustache and piercing black eyes. He held a silk hat in his hand, as if he had been on the point of leaving.

"Well, young man, what can I do for you?" questioned the office assistant, as he regarded Jerry indifferently.

"I came to see Mr. Alexander Slocum," replied our hero.

"I am Mr. Slocum," put in the other man. "What is it you want?"

"I came to see you on a bit of private business, sir."

"Yes. Well, Mr. Casey here knows all about my affairs; so you need have no hesitation in speaking in front of him," laughed the real estate man somewhat harshly.

"I am Jerry Upton, and I came from Lakeview. My uncle, Charles Upton, who is now dead, was once interested in a colonization land scheme that you started."

Jerry watch Mr. Slocum narrowly as he spoke, and saw that the man was greatly astonished. He started back, and for an instant the assuring look his face wore faded.

"Jerry Upton from Lakeview," he murmured slowly. Then he cleared his throat. "I—I did not expect to see you."

"I suppose not, sir."

"What is it you want?"

"I want to find out how matters stand in regard to the land in California. My father heard you had gone to Europe."

"I did go to Europe, but not to escape inquiry," added Slocum, hastily. "You see, that scheme failed utterly," he went on slowly. "Why, I lost nearly every dollar I possessed in it. What your uncle lost was nothing in comparison."

"It was to him, Mr. Slocum. To whom does the land belong?"

"Why, it—er—it reverted to its original owners, some mine speculators of Denver."

"Where is the land located?"

"Not far from the city of Sacramento."

"Can't you give me the precise location?"

At this Alexander Slocum glared at our hero savagely.

"It would do you no good to spend money on hunting the matter up," he answered. "That affair was settled long ago. The money was lost, and that is all there is to it."

"Not if I know it, Mr. Slocum. I intend to sift the matter to the bottom. I am convinced that all was not carried out as it should have been."

"You appear to be a very foolish boy."

"That may be your opinion, but it won't alter my intention. I have my uncle's papers with me, and, unless you will give me some particulars of how the scheme fell through, I shall place the matter in the hands of a lawyer."

Alexander Slocum winced at this, and Jerry fancied he was hard struck. He made a movement as if to clutch the youth by the arm, then drew back.

"You have your uncle's papers?" he asked cautiously.

"Yes. My father is his sole heir."

"I should like to see them. Perhaps I spoke hastily; but really you are mistaken in thinking it can be of any use to bring that old deal up again. The money was lost, and there is no chance of getting it back again."

"But, either you are responsible for the amount, or else my uncle's interest in the land still holds good," said Jerry.

"Let me see the papers."

Mr. Slocum made a movement as if to take them. But Jerry drew back and shook his head.

"I prefer not to let them go out of my possession."

"Do you mean to say you won't trust me?"

"You can put it that way, if you wish, Mr. Slocum."

The real estate man bit his lip. Then he made a movement to his assistant, who at once slid behind Jerry, towards the door.

"What are you going to do?" the young oarsman asked, in alarm.

Without replying, the assistant locked the door and slipped the key into his pocket.

"Don't grow excited," said Alexander Slocum, coldly. "I want to see those papers, that's all. Show them to me at once!"

Like a flash Jerry realized he was trapped by the enemy.



CHAPTER XXVII.

JERRY'S CLEVER ESCAPE.

Jerry saw at once that things were growing warm. From the look on his face it was plain to see that Alexander Slocum was in deadly earnest when he said he wanted to see those papers.

His manner made our hero feel that the papers would not be safe in his hands. If he gave them up he might never see them again, and without the documents the claim on the land in California would fall flat.

"Did you hear what I said, Upton? I want you to let me see those papers," Slocum went on, after a second of intense silence.

"What do you mean by locking that door?" Jerry demanded of the elderly assistant, without paying any attention to the real estate dealer's words.

Casey made no response. Instead, he took his stand by his employer's side, as if awaiting further orders.

"You act as if you were afraid of me," sneered Slocum. "I won't hurt you."

"You won't—not if I can help it," answered Jerry. "But I want you to unlock that door. I am not to be treated as a prisoner."

"I only wanted to secure us against interruption. So many agents come up here, and they are a regular nuisance."

Slocum advanced and held out his hand, as if expecting Jerry would drop the precious papers into it. Instead, the boy retreated and took up a position behind a flat-top desk in the centre of the office.

At this the real estate dealer grew furious behind his well-waxed mustache. He had expected to intimidate our hero easily, and now he was nonplused.

"Are you going to let me see those papers?" he fumed.

"No; at least not now."

"Why not?"

"I prefer not to answer that question."

"You think you have a case against me—that you can place me in a tight hole."

"Well, if all is straight you have nothing to fear."

"Don't preach to me, boy. All is straight. I lost my money as well as the others did."

"This doesn't look as if you had lost much," ventured Jerry, as he glanced about the elegant apartment.

"Oh, I have made money since, in a lucky real estate deal in Brooklyn. I won't keep your papers."

"I want that door unlocked."

Slocum muttered something under his breath, and his face grew suddenly red. Like a flash he placed his hands on the flat desk and leaped over it.

"I'll bring you to terms, you young country fool!" he cried, and made a clutch for Jerry's collar.

Had our hero not turned like a flash he would have had the lad. But Jerry was on guard and fled to the office door. Raising his foot he gave the barrier a kick that caused it to crack heavily.

"Stop that!"

"I won't. Let me out, or I'll kick the door down."

"Casey, catch the young rascal!" cried Slocum. "I'm going to teach him a thing or two."

Anxious to obey the command of the man who held him completely under his thumb, Casey ran forward. Seeing him coming, Jerry fled behind a large screen. Here rested a heavy cane, and he picked it up and brandished it over his head.

"Keep back! Advance at your peril."

"I'm afraid to go near the young fool," said Casey.

"I'll fix him. Stand aside. I never yet saw the boy that could get the best of me," muttered Alexander Slocum.

"He may kill you, Mr. Slocum."

"I'll risk it."

Running around the desk, the real estate dealer came for the young oarsman. As he approached, the boy pushed the screen against him and he went down, with the heavy object on top of him.

"You—you villain!" he spluttered.

To this Jerry made no answer. Taking advantage of the time afforded him, he looked around for some means of escaping his enemies. To remain a moment longer in the office he felt would be perilous in the extreme.

Near the corner to which Jerry had retreated was an open window. Glancing out of it he saw that the roof of the next building was but six or eight feet below the window sill.

Without stopping to think twice, our hero leaped out of the window and on to the roof below.

"Stop! stop!"

Both Slocum and his assistant called after Jerry, but he paid no attention. Leaving the vicinity of the window, he ran along the roof to the rear. Here there was an addition to a tin-shop underneath, and he dropped down and found himself within twelve feet of a narrow alleyway.

"Are you coming back?" bawled Alexander Slocum; and then, as Jerry let himself down over the edge of the roof, he suddenly disappeared from the window.

Guessing he was coming down to head him off, the youth lost no time in dropping to the ground.

Once down, it was an easy matter to gain the street. As he came out on the pavement, Slocum came running up all out of breath.

"You're a fine boy!" he cried. "Come back to the office, and let us talk matters over."

"Not to-day," answered Jerry. "I've had enough of a dose for the present."

"You are making a mistake."

"I don't intend to put my head into the lion's mouth."

While the two were speaking Casey came up, and, as the two appeared as if they wanted to drag Jerry back into the building just left, the youth retreated.

Alexander Slocum followed for a block, and then gave up the chase. Seeing this, Jerry walked on more leisurely.

Our hero's visit to the real estate dealer had set him to thinking deeply. The man's anxiety concerning the papers made the boy feel sure there was more at the bottom of the land speculation than either his parents or he had suspected.

Perhaps the land was still held by this man and was of great value. If this was so how was he to go to work to establish his father's claim?

Pondering over the affair, the young oarsman thought of Mr. Randolph Islen and of his kindness. He resolved to tell that gentleman his story and see what he would have to say.

This conclusion reached, Jerry felt in his inner pocket to see if the precious papers were still safe. To his horror they were gone.



CHAPTER XXVIII.

SOMETHING ABOUT A TRAMP.

"Gone!"

The cry burst involuntarily from Jerry's lips, and for the moment his heart seemed to stop beating. The precious papers were missing.

What had become of them? With great haste he hunted all of his pockets, not once but a dozen times. Then he felt in the linings, and in fact in all places where the packet might have become concealed.

It was useless; they were gone; that was all there was to it.

Had he dropped them in Slocum's office, or during his hasty flight to the alleyway?

Our hero retraced his steps, with eyes bent to the ground, in hopes that they would be found lying on the walk. In doing this he ran into half a dozen folks, many of whom did not take kindly to the collision.

"Look where you are going, boy."

"Hunting for a pin or gold dollars?"

Jerry paid no attention to the remarks. Reaching the alleyway, he turned into it and continued the search, but without success.

"Say, wot yer doin' in here?"

The question was asked by a youth in the tin-shop. He was red-headed and had a freckled face, but not an unpleasant one.

"I was looking for something I lost," said the young oarsman. "Have you seen anything in here of a flat, white package with a black shoestring tied around it?"

"Why, yes, I did," he answered.

"And where is it?"

"A tramp had it. I saw him walk out of der alley wid it not five minutes ago."

"A tramp? What kind of a looking man?"

"Tall and thin, with a grizzly beard. Oh, he was a regular bum."

"Where did he go?"

"Up the street, I think. Was the bundle valuable?"

"Indeed it was, to me," replied Jerry, and hurried off.

He could see nothing of any tramp, and, after dodging around among the trucks for several minutes, returned to the youth.

"Please describe that tramp to me, will you?" asked Jerry, and the tinner's boy did so, as well as he was able.

"I think da call him Crazy Jim," he concluded. "He don't come down here very often. He belongs uptown somewhere."

"Well, if you ever see him again, please let me know. My name is Jerry Upton, and here is my address," and our hero handed it over.

"All right, I will. My name is Jerry Martin. Wot was in de package?"

"Some papers belonging to my father."

The boy wanted to question Jerry for further particulars, but the young oarsman did not care to say too much, and hurried off, to seek the tramp again.

That evening found our hero at Mrs. Price's, footsore and downhearted. He had seen nothing of Crazy Jim, and it looked as if the precious packet was gone for good.

Jerry could not help but wonder what Alexander Slocum's next move would be. Would the man endeavor to hunt him out or would he write to his father?

The next morning, on his way to Mr. Randolph Islen's place of business, Jerry met Nellie Ardell.

"Did you find Mr. Slocum's?" she asked.

"I did; and had a very disagreeable visit," returned our hero.

"I knew you would have," she went on. "I wish he was not my landlord."

Jerry asked her how Tommy was, and then they parted, and five minutes more brought our hero to the book-bindery.

Mr. Islen was not yet in, but he soon arrived, and smiled as Jerry presented himself.

"On hand, I see, my young friend. Well, how did you make out? Did you obtain a position?"

"No, sir."

"It's rather hard. Mr. Grice!" he called out.

The foreman of the book-bindery came in and Jerry was introduced to him. Quite a chat followed, at the end of which Jerry was hired to work in the stock department at a salary of six dollars a week.

The salary was not large, but it would pay his expenses, and that was all he wished for at present.

"I won't have to write home for money," he thought.

Mr. Grice wanted Jerry to come to work immediately, but our hero begged to speak to Mr. Islen in private for a moment, and when they were left alone told his story from beginning to end.

The rich book-binder listened with interest, and tapped meditatively upon his desk when Jerry had finished.

"This is rather a strange story, Upton," he said. "What would you like me to do?"

"I would like you to give me some advice, sir. What had I best do?"

"You can do a number of things. What would be the best I cannot say. You might hire a lawyer to look into the case, and again you might have this Slocum arrested for locking you in the office. The loss of the packet complicates matters. Did it have your name on?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then you had better wait, and in the meantime advertise for the packet, offering a reward. That tramp may be watching for such an advertisement."

This was sound advice; but Jerry had no money, and said so.

"I will pay for the advertisement and take it out of your pay," said Mr. Islen; and the notice was written out without delay and sent off by the office boy.

The young oarsman now felt a trifle lighter in heart. He reasoned that the packet would be of no value to the tramp and that he would be glad to surrender it in hope of a reward. He did not remember at the time that he had written Alexander Slocum's name and address on the outside wrapper; yet such was a fact.

When Jerry entered the bindery he found several pairs of curious eyes bent upon him from boys of about his own age. Without delay Mr. Grice set our hero to work.

"What is your name?" asked one of the boys, as soon as he had a chance.

"Jerry Upton. What is yours?"

"Dick Lenning. Say, do you know you have got the job Grice was going to give my brother?"

"No, I don't."

"It's so. Jack was coming to work to-morrow. It ain't fair to take the bread out of a fellow's mouth like that," growled Dick Lenning.

"I fancy Mr. Islen gave me my position—" Jerry ventured.

"Oh! So it was the boss put you in. Well, it ain't fair anyway. Where do you come from—Brooklyn?"

"No, Lakeview."

"Never heard of it. Must be some country village. You look like a hayseed."

As Dick Lenning spoke he gazed around to see if Mr. Grice had gone. Then he added in a whisper:

"You have to set up the drinks for the crowd before you can work here, see?"

"Drinks," repeated our hero.

"Sure; all the new hands do that."

"I—I rather think I won't."

"You are too mean."

"It's not that; I don't drink."

"You are a country jay, and no mistake."

Dick Lenning leaned forward and shoved Jerry with his elbow, at the same time putting one foot behind the youth. He wanted to trip our hero up, but Jerry was on guard, and, resisting him, the young oarsman caused him to slip down against a bench upon which rested a pot of book-binders' glue.

The glue tipped over and part of it went down Lenning's leg, causing him to yell like a wild Indian.



CHAPTER XXIX.

MR. WAKEFIELD SMITH AGAIN.

"I'll hammer you for that!"

"What did he do, Dick?"

"Knocked the glue over me. You country jay, you!" howled Dick Lenning, and, leaping up, he bore down on Jerry.

Lenning was a good deal of a bully. He was tall and strong, and evidently he thought he could make our hero submit to his will easily.

"Take that!" he fairly hissed, and aimed a blow at Jerry's ear. The youth dodged it and caught his arm.

"Hold on!" Jerry ejaculated. "I don't want to fight. You will only make trouble."

"Let go!"

"Not until you promise to keep quiet."

"I'll promise nothing," stormed Lenning, and began to struggle more excitedly than ever.

But he soon wore himself out, when Jerry got behind him and clasped hands over his breast. The bully was about to call on his friends to assist him, when a cry went up.

"Cheese it! Grice is coming this way."

As if by magic the boys who had gathered around ran off to their work, leaving the bully and Jerry alone. Our hero released his opponent, and, turning around, Lenning glared at him vindictively.

"I'll get even with you for this, see if I don't," he muttered in a hoarse whisper.

Then he followed his friends; and Mr. Grice came up and took Jerry to another part of the shop.

"I have changed my mind about letting you work here," he said. "I want you to get used to the place before I put you among those other boys."

Evening found our hero a good deal worn out, not so much by the work as by the close confinement of the bindery. How different life in the great metropolis was to life in the green fields of the country!

After supper Jerry determined to take a walk uptown, to get the outdoor exercise and also in hope of seeing something of the tramp who had taken the packet. He knew that looking for the tramp in the metropolis was a good deal like looking for a pin in a haystack, but imagined that even that pin could be found if one looked long and sharp enough for it.

The young oarsman sauntered forth toward Broadway, and thence past the Forty-second Street depot and up to Central Park. It was a long walk, but he did not mind it; in fact, it seemed to do him good, for it rested his mind.

The window displays interested Jerry not a little, and he took in everything that came along. So the time flew quickly, until, coming to a jeweler's window, he saw it was after ten o'clock.

"I'll have to be getting back," he said to himself, and was on the point of returning when he saw that which surprised him greatly. A cab whirled past the corner upon which he was standing, and on the back seat he recognized Mr. Wakefield Smith.

The pickpocket was alone, and ere Jerry could stop him the cab rolled down the side street out of hearing.

Our hero did not stop long to consider what was best to do, but took to his heels and followed the cab as best he could.

The cab gained a distance of nearly two blocks, and Jerry was almost on the point of giving up, when it came to a halt in front of what looked like a private club-house. Wakefield Smith alighted and paid the cabman, who went about his business without delay.

"Stop there!" cried Jerry to the pickpocket, as the man mounted the steps of the house. But whether the man heard our hero or not, he paid no attention. When Jerry reached the spot he was standing on a low porch.

"Did you hear me?" went on Jerry, and, to prevent Smith from entering the place, our hero caught him by the button of his coat.

To Jerry surprise, the rascal offered no resistance. Instead, he came down the steps backward, and fell on his back on the sidewalk, his hat rolling toward the gutter.

"Shay, waz you do that fer?" he hiccoughed.

Jerry gazed at the pickpocket in wonder. Then the truth flashed over our hero. The man who had robbed him was beastly intoxicated.



CHAPTER XXX.

AN UNLOOKED FOR ADVENTURE.

It would be hard to express Jerry's feelings when he found Mr. Wakefield Smith was suffering heavily from intoxication. For the moment he could do nothing but stare at the man as he lay helpless on the pavement.

"Waz you mean, boy?" went on Smith, and he tried in vain to get up. "Waz you knock me down for, I demand to know?"

"Do you recognize me?" said our hero sharply, as he looked the pickpocket squarely in the face.

"No—don't know you from Adam, 'pon my word."

"I am Jerry Upton, the boy you robbed the other night."

At the words Smith straightened up for a moment and a look of alarm crossed his face.

"Jerry Upton," he repeated, slowly.

"Yes. What have you done with my money?"

"Ain't got a dollar of your money."

"If you haven't, you've drank it up," Jerry ejaculated. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself."

"Zat's all right, m'boy, all right, I assure you. Come on and have a good time with me."

With great difficulty Wakefield Smith arose to his feet and staggered towards the house he had been on the point of entering. Jerry pulled him back and held him. As our hero did this he saw Smith drop a ten-dollar bill. Jerry picked it up.

"You are not going in there—you are going with me."

"Where to?"

"To the nearest station house."

The pickpocket gave a hiccough and a cry of alarm that was very much like a whine.

"To the station house?"

"Yes; come on."

"Never."

Smith struggled feebly to get away, but the boy held him with ease. Overcome, the man finally sat down on the curbstone and refused to budge.

"Shay, let us compromise," he mumbled. "It was all a mistake."

"It was no mistake."

"If I give you ten dollars, will you call it off?"

"No."

"Then you don't git a cent, see?"

And with great deliberation the pickpocket closed one bleared eye and glared at Jerry.

"We'll see about that later," cried our hero, hotly, and catching the rascal by the collar the youth yanked him to a standing position. "Now come on, and no nonsense."

Seeing that the youth was not to be fooled with, Wakefield Smith tried to dicker again, getting himself badly twisted in his plea that he would make everything all right. Jerry would not trust him and forced him to walk along until the nearest corner was reached. Here he suddenly made a clutch at an electric-light pole and held fast.

"Help! help! help!" he cried out at the top of his lungs. "Police!"

The young oarsman did not know what to make of this appeal for assistance, for it seemed to him that the authorities were the very people Mr. Wakefield Smith wished to avoid. He was destined, however to soon learn a trick that was brand new to him.

The pickpocket had hardly uttered his cry when a bluecoat put into appearance and came running to the spot.

"What's the trouble here?" he demanded.

"Shay, officer, make that young fellow go away," hiccoughed Mr. Wakefield Smith.

"What is he up to?"

"Trying to rob me, officer; reg'lar slick Aleck."

At this cool assertion Jerry was dumbfounded.

"So you're trying to rob this gent, eh?" said the bluecoat, turning to our hero and catching his arm. "I reckon I came just in time."

"It's a falsehood; he is the pickpocket," rejoined Jerry as soon as he could speak.

"He looks like it," said the officer, sarcastically.

"He didn't rob me now, he robbed several nights ago. I just ran across him."

"He's a slick Aleck," went on Mr. Wakefield Smith. "Don't let him take my watch, officer!"

"No fear of that. Come along with me, young man."

"If I have to go I want him to go, too."

At these words Mr. Wakefield Smith's face changed color.

"I can't go, officer; have an important engagement at the—er—club."

"He is a pickpocket and I'll prove it at the station house," said Jerry, warningly. "It is your duty to make him go along. I'll help you carry him if it's necessary."

"And you'll skip out, too, if you get the chance," remarked the policeman, grimly.

"If you think that, handcuff me to this fellow."

"Do you mean that?"

"I do, sir."

"Hang me if I don't think you are honest, after all."

"He's a big thief!" bawled Mr. Wakefield Smith.

"Keep quiet and come along. They can straighten matters out at the precinct."

The officer took Mr. Wakefield Smith by the arm and started to walk the prisoner away. With a dexterous twist the intoxicated man cleared himself and plunged down the street.

The bluecoat and Jerry made after him as quickly as they could, but a drawing school in the neighborhood had just let out, and they were detained by the crowd. Mr. Wakefield Smith stumbled across the street and down a side thoroughfare that was very dark. The officer and our hero went after him, but at the end of the second block he was no longer to be seen.

"Now you've let him escape," said Jerry to the policeman. "I have a good mind to report you."

"Go on with you!" howled the officer in return. "I reckon it was a put up job all around. Clear about your business or I'll run you in for disorderly conduct!"

And he made such a savage dash at the young oarsman with his long club that our hero was glad to retreat.

He continued the hunt for the pickpocket alone, but without avail, and, much disheartened, finally returned to his boarding-house. He was afraid he had seen the last of Mr. Wakefield Smith, and was glad he had gotten at least ten dollars from the pickpocket.



CHAPTER XXXI.

NELLIE ARDELL'S TROUBLES.

On the following morning Jerry went to work at the bindery as if nothing had happened. When he went in, Dick Lanning glared at our hero and stopped as if to speak, but changed his mind and walked off without saying a word.

During the day the young oarsman became much better acquainted with his work and began to like it.

That night, on leaving the bindery by the side entrance, which opened on a narrow lane, our hero saw Dick Lanning and several of his friends waiting for him.

He attempted to pass but Lenning put out his foot, and had Jerry not stopped he would have been tripped up.

"Let me pass," said he, sharply, but instead of complying, Lenning took a stand in front of him and hit the youth on the shoulder.

"I said I'd git square," he hissed, savagely. "If yer ain't afraid, stand up and fight."

"I'm not afraid," replied Jerry, and pushed him up against the wall.

Without delay a rough-and-tumble fight ensued.

"Give it to him, Dick!"

"Do the hayseed up!"

"Knock him into the middle of next week!"

These and a dozen other cries arose on the air, and the crowd kept increasing until fully a hundred spectators surrounded the pair.

Dick Lanning had caught Jerry unfairly, but the youth soon managed to shake him off, and, hauling back, gave him a clean blow on the end of his unusually long nose, which caused the blood to spurt from that organ in a stream.

"He's tapped Dick's nose!"

"My! wasn't that a blow, though!"

"The country lad is game!"

Wild with rage, Dick Lanning endeavored to close in again. Jerry stopped the movement this time by a blow on the chest which sent him staggering back several feet into the crowd.

"What's the matter, Dick?"

"Don't let him use you like that."

"I'll fix him!" howled the bully, and rushed at our hero a third time.

Again he hit Jerry, this time in the chin. But our hero's blood was now up, and, calculating well, he struck a square blow in the left eye that knocked the bully flat.

"Dick is knocked out!"

"That country jay is a corker!"

"Git up, Dick. Yer eye is turnin' all black!"

"Better let him go, he's too much for you!"

Dick Lanning was slow in coming to the front. The eye was not only black, but it was closing rapidly.

"He's got a stone in his fist—he don't fight fair," he growled to his friends.

"I have nothing in my fist," retorted Jerry. "If he wants anymore, I fancy I can accommodate him, although I don't care to fight."

Dick Lanning was uneasy. He glanced toward his friends and passed a signal to one of his cronies.

"Police! skip!" cried the crony. "Come on, Dick, you don't want to git caught!"

And he dragged Dick Lanning away, while the crowd scattered like magic. No policeman was in sight, nor did any appear. It was only a ruse to retire without acknowledging defeat.

But that fight taught Dick Lanning a severe lesson. He still remained down upon the young oarsman, but in the future he fought shy of our hero, knowing that Jerry would not stand his bullying manner.

On Saturday the shop closed down early, and, having nothing else to do, Jerry walked down to the newspaper office in hope of receiving some answer to the advertisement for the missing papers.

But no answer was forthcoming and, disappointed, he retraced his steps and sauntered in the direction in which Nellie Ardell and her little brother Tommy lived.

"I'll call on them and see how she made out about her rent," he said to himself, and mounted the stairs to her apartment.

There was a murmur of voices in the kitchen. The door was partly open and Jerry saw the girl and her little brother standing there, confronted by a burly man.