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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"All aboard!" called the guard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Tunnel? This ain't no tunnel!"

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

"Why, this is the subway."

"The subway?"

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

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

Meanwhile Caleb Annister and Mr. Baker had been plotting together.

They discussed many schemes, and at last hit on one they thought would answer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Suppose we go in and have some ice cream soda," went on Mr. Wakely.

"Or, better, still, have it in my room. I'm stopping at this hotel.

Then we can go out a bit."

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

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

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

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

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

A moment later Roy turned back.

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

"Very likely. But drink your soda and we'll go out." The boy put to his lips the gla.s.s, into which Mr. Wakely had sifted the white powder.