When the fortnight was up, Tom received an unexpected offer, that the Irishman, through some acquaintance, secured for him. It was the opportunity to sell newspapers and periodicals on the Hudson River Railroad. He was to leave New York in the morning, "working the train" on the way up to Albany, and come down again in the afternoon.

This was such a big advance on what he had been doing, that he joyfully accepted the offer, even though he held not the slightest intention of following it as a continuous occupation. It would do very well until he could obtain something more suitable.

The lad found at the end of the first week that he was much better off than he antic.i.p.ated. The privilege was conceded to him of charging double the price for the papers which was asked on the streets or at the news-stands, and his percentage of profits was very large.

Tom held his position for a couple of months to the satisfaction of his employer, and he had acc.u.mulated quite a sum, which was deposited in a savings-bank that wasn't likely to "suspend" for the benefit of the officers.

Spring had opened, the Hudson was clear of ice, and his business became quite agreeable.

It happened that he encountered, on several occasions, some of his former friends of Briggsville, who could not conceal their surprise at seeing him engaged in selling newspapers.

Tom could not always keep back the flush that stole over his handsome face at such times. But he began to believe there was a n.o.bility in honest labor like his, of which he had no right to feel ashamed.

There were any number of young fellows who envied him his position, and who were ready to use all sorts of artifices to have him "bounced."

Slanderous reports were carried to his employers, who took measures to investigate them, reaching the conclusion that Tom was without a superior in the way of integrity, politeness, and faithfulness.

The tiny gold chain and locket obtained from the drowning girl in so singular a manner, he preserved with a religious devotion. It was deposited in the savings-bank, beyond all danger of loss, and he would have starved to death before consenting to part with it.

The sweet face within the locket was as vividly fixed in his memory as if the original were a sister of his, and he never pa.s.sed through the train without looking around, in the hope of seeing the little girl herself.

The only sister which Tom had ever had died in infancy, and there was something which linked the memory of the two in the tenderest and most sacred manner.

There were true modesty and manhood in the n.o.ble fellow, when he overheard a visitor in his employer's office relate the incident of the rescue, without suspecting that the hero stood before him, and never dropped the slightest intimation that he knew anything about it.

One bright spring morning Tom was pa.s.sing through the smoking-car, when a young man, very flashily dressed, whistled to him, and asked for a copy of a sporting paper.

Tom had but a single copy left. This he tossed over into the lap of the applicant in that careless, off-hand style which characterizes the veteran newsboy.

The purchaser pa.s.sed over a quarter in coin, and as Tom pulled out a handful of silver from his pocket, from which to select the change, the flashy young man said,--

"Never mind, sonny; I'll make you a present of that."

"But you have given me five times the price of the paper," said Tom, thinking there was an error.

"That's all right. When I see a fellow of your style I like to encourage him."

Tom thanked him and pa.s.sed on.

The incident would not be worth recording but for the fact that it was repeated the next day, when the same young man bought a _Herald_, and compelled the lad to accept a bright silver quarter in payment, without allowing him to give any change.

Six times on successive days was this done, and then the liberal purchaser disappeared from the train.

Aside from the repet.i.tion of his favors, it was rather curious that on each occasion he should have placed a silver quarter in the palm of Tom.

Each coin was of the same date as that year, and was so bright and shiny that Tom believed they must have come directly from the mint. They looked so handsome, indeed, that he determined to keep them as pocket-pieces, instead of giving them out in change.

There is nothing like actual experience to sharpen a fellow's wits; and, on the first day the munificent stranger vanished, a dim suspicion entered the head of Tom that some mischief was brewing.

That night in New York he examined the coins more minutely than heretofore. Half an hour later he walked down to the wharf and threw them into the river.

The whole six were counterfeit. It wasn't safe for any one to carry such property about him.

Tom was strongly convinced, further, that a job was being "put up" on him, and he was mightily relieved when thoroughly rid of them.

That same evening one of his employers sent for him, and told him that he had received reliable information that he, Thomas Gordon, was working off counterfeit money on the road.

The boy denied it, of course, but he did not choose to tell all he knew, for he saw that his own situation was a dangerous one; but he demanded that the proof should be produced.

There was an officer present, who thereupon searched the lad for the "queer," but he acknowledged there wasn't a penny on him which was not sound.

Tom was kept at the office while another officer went to his lodging-house and ransacked his room. The result was _nil_. This rather stumped the detective, who was acting on the charge of some one else, and he started off, remarking that the business wasn't done yet, and the best thing the boy could do was to confess.

"I must first have something to confess," replied Tom, who was excusable for some honest indignation.

"Where is the man who said I was in _that_ business?"

"You'll meet him in the court-room," was the significant reply of the detective.

"That's just where I'd like to meet him, and you too, but you're afraid to try it."

"Come, come, young man, you'd better keep a civil tongue in your head, or I'll jug you as it is. I've enough against you."

"Why don't you do it, then?" was Tom's defiant question; "I've learned enough during the last few minutes to understand my rights, and if you think I don't, now's the time to test it."

The officer went out muttering all sorts of things; and Tom, turning to his employer, his breast heaving with indignation, said,--

"They have been plotting against me ever since I've been on the road. They went with all kinds of stories to you, and now they've been trying to make it appear that I am in the counterfeit business."

"But there must have been something tangible, or that detective would not have come here with the charge."

"There was something;" and thereupon Tom told the story of the six shining quarters.

His employer was angered, for he saw through it all; and from the description of the donor, he recognized a worthless scamp who had been discharged for stealing some time before Tom went on the route. The detective was sent for, and the case laid before him. That night Mr. d.i.c.k Horton, who made the charge, was arrested, and in his rooms were found such proofs against him as a counterfeiter that, a few months later, he went to Sing Sing for ten years.

For a time succeeding this incident Tom was left undisturbed in the pursuit of his business, the occurrence becoming pretty generally known and causing much sympathy for him.

It was about a month subsequent that Tom missed his afternoon train down the river, and took another, which left later, not reaching New York till late at night.

[Ill.u.s.tration: It was a fierce drive.]

As there was nothing for him to do, the train being in the hands of another newsboy, he sat down in the smoking-car, which was only moderately filled. Directly in front was a man who, he judged from his dress, was a Texan drover, or some returning Californian He was leaning back in the corner of his seat, with his mouth open and his eyes shut, in a way to suggest that he was asleep.

Seated next him was an individual who looked very much like the Italian who had shoved his head into the door of Tom's room some months before.

This foreigner was watching the Californian--if such he was--as a cat watches a mouse.

"I believe he means to rob him," was Tom's conclusion, who, without being suspected by the scoundrel, was taking mental notes of the whole proceeding.

The supposition was confirmed within five minutes, when the Italian, leaning over toward the other, in an apparently careless manner, began cautiously inserting his hand into his watch-pocket.