apologized Herbert; "but I can't see why I should find anybody's pocket book."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE BENEVOLENT OLD GENTLEMAN PRESSES MONEY ON THE COUNTRY BOY.]

"Jest what I thought, but you see you don't know the ways of New York.

You will learn, though, and you will be surprised to see how easy it is to pick up a pocket book full of greenbacks and bonds--perhaps a hundred thousand dollars in any one of 'em--and then you will take it to the man what lost it, and he will give you a lots of money, maby a thousand dollars or so--'twouldn't be much of a man as would do less than a thousand. What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think. I cannot understand you, Bob Hunter."

"That's 'cause you don't know me, and ain't posted on what I'm saying.

Maby I am springin' it on you kinder fresh for the first day, though I guess you will stand it. But tell me, Vermont, about the runaway horse that you stopped."

"The runaway horse that I stopped!" exclaimed Herbert. "You must be mad to talk in this way."

"Mad! Well, that's good; that's the best thing I've heard of yet! Do I look like a fellow that's mad?" and he laughed convulsively, much to the country lad's annoyance.

"No, you do not look as if you were mad, but you certainly act as if you were," replied the latter sharply.

"Now look a here, Vermont, this won't do," said Bob, very serious again.

"You are jest tryin' to fool me, but you can't do it, Vermont, I'll tell you that straight. Of course I don't blame you for wantin' to be kinder modest about it, for I s'pose it seems to you like puttin' on airs to admit you saved their lives. But then 'tain't puttin' on no airs at all.

Ef I was you I'd be proud to own it; other boys always owns it, and they don't show no modesty about it the same as what you do, either. And I don't know why they should, for it's something to be proud of; and you know, Vermont, the funniest thing about it is that them runaways is always stopped by boys from the country jest like you. Don't ask me why it happens so, for I don't know myself; but all the books will tell you that it is so. And jest think, Vermont, how many lives they save! You know the coachman gets paralyzed, and the horses runs away and he tumbles off his box, and a rich lady and her daughter--they are always rich, and the daughter is always in the carriage, too--funny, ain't it, but it's as true as I'm alive; and the boy rushes at the horses when they are going like a cyclone, and stops 'em jest as the carriage is going to be dashed to pieces. And then the lady cries and throws her arms round the boy, and kisses him, and puts a hundred dollars in his hands, and he refuses it. Then the lady and her daughter ask him to come up to their house, and the next day her husband gets a bang up position for him, where he can make any amount of money.

"Now I call that somethin' to be proud of, as I said before, and I don't see no sense in your tryin' to seem ignorant about it. Why, I wouldn't be surprised a bit ef you would try to make out that you wasn't anear any fire today. But that wouldn't do, Vermont--I'll give you a pointer on that now, so you won't attempt no such tomfoolery with me, for no boy like you ever comes into a town like New York is and don't save somebody from burning up--rescue 'em from a tall building when n.o.body else can get to 'em. And of course for doing this they get pushed right ahead into something fine, while us city fellows have to shin around lively for a livin'.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE COUNTRY BOY FINDS A WELL FILLED POCKET BOOK.]

"I don't know ef you saved anybody from drowning or not; I won't say that you did, but ef you didn't you ain't in luck, that's all I've got to say about it. So you see 'tain't much use for you to try to deceive me, Vermont, for I know jest what's a fair day's work for a boy from the country--jest what's expected of him on his first day here. Why, ef you don't believe me (and I know you don't by the way you look), jest get all the books that tells about country boys coming to New York, and read what they say, that's all I ask of you, Vermont. Now come, own up and tell it straight."

"Bob, you are altogether too funny," laughed Herbert, now that the drift of his friend's seemingly crazy remarks was plain to him. "How can you manage to joke so seriously, and why do you make fun of me? Because I am from the country, I suppose."

"I hope I didn't hurt your feelings, Vermont," replied Bob, enjoying greatly his own good natured satire.

"No, not at all, Bob Hunter, but until I saw your joke I thought surely you were insane."

"Well, you see, I thought you needed something to kinder knock the blues that you brought back with you tonight--'tain't much fun to have 'em, is it? Sometimes I get 'em myself, so I know what they're like. But now to be honest, and not fool no more, didn't you get no show today?"

"No, not the least bit of encouragement," replied Herbert.

"And you kept up the hunt all day?"

"Yes."

"I ought ter told you that that warn't no use."

"How is that?"

"Why, don't you see, it's the first fellers what gets the jobs--them as gets round early."

"And are there so many applicants for every position?"

"Are there? Well, you jest bet there are. I've seen more'n two hundred boys after a place, and 'twan't nothin' extra of a place, either."

"But then there are thousands of places to be filled. Why, the papers were full of them."

"Yes, and there is a good many more thousands what wants them same jobs.

You never thought of that, I guess."

Herbert admitted with flushed cheeks that he had not given that fact proper consideration.

"Well, you done well, any way, to hang on so long," said Bob, in his off hand, comical manner. "I expected you'd get sick before this time, and steer straight for Vermont."

"Why did you think that?"

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE COUNTRY BOY TO THE RESCUE.]

"Well, most of the country boys think they can pick up money on the streets in New York; but when they get here, and begin to hunt for it, they tumble rather spry--I mean they find they've been took in, and that a fellow has got to work harder, yes, I'd say so, ten times harder, here'n he does on a farm. There he can just sleep and laze round in the sun, and go in swimmin', and all the time the stuff is just growin' and whoopin' her right along, like as if I was boss of a dozen boys, and they was all sellin' papers and I was makin' a profit on 'em all, and wasn't doin' nothin' myself. So when these fellers find out they've got to knuckle down and shine shoes, why they just light out kinder lively, and make up their minds that New York ain't much of a town no how."

"And so you thought I would 'light out' too," laughed Herbert.

"Well, I didn't know. I told you I liked your looks, but I hain't much faith in n.o.body till I know what kind of stuff a feller is made of. But if he's got any sand in him, then I'll bet on his winning right here in New York, and he won't have to go back home for his bread. Well, speakin' of bread reminds me that it's about time to eat something and I'm all fired hungry, and you look es ef 'twould do you good to get a little somethin' warm in your stomach. Funny, ain't it, we can't do nothin' without eatin'? But we can't, so let's eat. Business is about over, and I don't mind leavin' a little early, any way."

Herbert a.s.sented gladly to this proposition, and presently Bob took him up Chatham Street to an eating house known as the "Boss Tweed Restaurant"--a restaurant the cheapness of which recommended it, five cents being the established price for a meal.

"I s'pose you hain't made no plans for a place to sleep yet?" said the newsboy, while eating their frugal fare.

"No," replied Herbert. "I thought I would wait and see you before making any move in that direction. You are the only one I know in the city."

"And 'tain't much you know about me."

"Very true; but from your appearance I'm satisfied to trust myself with you."

"You're takin' big chances ef you do," replied Bob, happily; "but ef you want to take the resk, why we will jest look up a room and occupy it together. I kinder think I'd like the scheme. I've been sleepin' at the Newsboys' Lodging House, but I'm tired of it. What do you say?"

"I say yes," replied Herbert. He was only too glad of the chance, and liked the idea of having Bob Hunter for a room mate. He thought there would be something fascinating about living with a newsboy, and learning this phase of life in a great city, especially when the newsboy was so droll as Bob Hunter had already shown himself to be.

[Ill.u.s.tration: AT THE BOSS TWEED RESTAURANT.]

"All right, then, it's a go," replied Bob, greatly pleased.

When the meal had been finished they continued up Chatham Street into the Bowery, and then turned into a side street where inexpensive rooms were offered for rent. After a little hunting they found one at a cost of one dollar a week which proved satisfactory. They immediately took possession, and went to bed very early, as Herbert was practically worn out.

CHAPTER IV.

AT MR. GOLDWIN'S OFFICE.

On the following morning both boys rose early and breakfasted together.