



Produced by Gary Sandino, from a scanned UC library book
kindly provided by the Internet Archive (www.archive.org.)









  If this is borrowed by a friend
  Right welcome shall he be
  To read, to study, not to lend
  But to return to me.
  Not that imparted knowledge doth
  Diminish learning's store
  But books I find if often lent
  Return to me no more.





The

Erie Train Boy



HORATIO ALGER,

JR.





Copyright, 1891,

UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY

(All Rights Reserved)



The Erie Train Boy


CONTENTS.

CHAPTER.                                        PAGE.

       I. On the Erie Road                          5

      II. A Fair Exchange                          11

     III. Fred's Rich Relation                     14

      IV. Zebulon Mack                             20

       V. An Adventure on the Train                24

      VI. Mr. Bascomb's Peril                      30

     VII. Ferdinand Morris                         85

    VIII. Mr. Bascomb's sad Plight                 41

      IX. A Long Trip                              46

       X. What Took Place in No. 21                51

      XI. Fred Falls under a Terrible Suspicion    56

     XII. Fred is a Prisoner                       62

    XIII. The Hotel Clerk's Mistake                67

     XIV. The Missing Valise                       73

      XV. Mr. Palmer Walks into a Trap             78

     XVI. Palmer's Malice                          83

    XVII. Two Young Lady Passengers at Odds        88

   XVIII. Unsatisfactory Relations                 94

     XIX. Ruth Patton Calls on Mr. Ferguson        99

      XX. A Friend in Need                        104

     XXI. Luella's Painful Discovery              109

    XXII. Miss Ferguson Writes a Note             115

   XXIII. Another Railroad Adventure              126

    XXIV. Fred's Good Luck                        125

     XXV. Rose Wainwright's Party                 131

    XXVI. Fred Becomes a Newspaper Hero           136

   XXVII. A Confidential Mission                  141

  XXVIII. St. Victor                              146

    XXIX. Fred Takes the First Step               154

     XXX. A Hunting Excursion                     157

    XXXI. Fred has an Understanding with Sinclair 163

   XXXII. Finding a Clue                          168

  XXXIII. Success                                 173

   XXXIV. Bowman's Panic                          179

    XXXV. Fred's Reward                           185

   XXXVI. A Letter from Tom Sloan                 190

  XXXVII. Cousin Ferguson                         193

 XXXVIII. Conclusion                              197




THE ERIE TRAIN BOY



CHAPTER I.

ON THE ERIE ROAD.

"Papers, magazines, all the popular novels! Can't I sell you something
this morning?"

Joshua Bascom turned as the train boy addressed him, and revealed an
honest, sunburned face, lighted up with pleasurable excitement, for he
was a farmer's son and was making his first visit to the city of New
York.

"I ain't much on story readin'," he said, "I tried to read a story book
once, but I couldn't seem to get interested in it."

"What was the name of it?" asked Fred, the train boy, smiling.

"It was the 'Pilgrim's Progress,' or some such name. It had pictures
into it. Aunt Nancy give it to dad for a birthday present once."

"I have heard of it."

"It was a mighty queer book. I couldn't make head nor tail on't."

"All books are not like that."

"I don't feel like readin'. It's a nuff sight more interestin' lookin'
out of the winder at the sights.

"I'm going to York to spend a week," added Joshua, with an air of
importance.

"That's where I live," said the train boy.

"Do you? Then you might tell me where to put up. I've got ten dollars.
I reckon that ought to keep me a week."

Fred smiled.

"That is more than enough to keep me," he said, "but it costs a
stranger considerable to go around. But I shall have to go my rounds."

It was a train on the Erie road, and the car had just passed
Middletown. Joshua was sitting by the window, and the seat beside him
was vacant. The train boy had scarcely left the car when a stylishly
dressed young man, who had been sitting behind, came forward and
accosted Joshua.

"Is this seat engaged?" he asked.

"Not as I know of," answered the young farmer.

"Then with your permission I will take it," said the stranger.

"Why of course; I hain't no objection. He's dreadful polite!" thought
Joshua.

"You are from the country, I presume?" said the newcomer as he sank
into the seat.

"Yes, I be. I live up Elmira way--town of Barton. Was you ever in
Barton?"

"I have passed through it. I suppose you are engaged in agricultural
pursuits?"

"Hey?"

"You are a farmer, I take it."

"Yes; I work on dad's farm. He owns a hundred and seventy-five acres,
and me and a hired man help him to carry it on. I tell you we have to
work."

"Just so! And now you are taking a vacation?"

"Yes. I've come to see the sights of York."

"I think you will enjoy your visit. Ahem! the mayor of New York is my
uncle."

"You don't say?" ejaculated Joshua, awestruck.

"Yes! My name is Ferdinand Morris."

"Glad to know you, Mr. Morris. My name is Joshua Bascom."

"Indeed! An aunt of mine married a Bascom. Perhaps we are related."

Joshua was quite elated at the thought that he might in some way be
related to the mayor of New York without knowing it, and he resolved to
expatiate on that subject when he went back to Barton. He decided that
his new acquaintance must be rich, for he was dressed in showy style
and had a violet in his buttonhole.

"Be you in business, Mr Morris?" he asked.

"Well, ahem! I am afraid that I am rather an idler. My father left me a
quarter of a million, and so I don't feel the need of working."

"Quarter of a million!" ejaculated Joshua. "Why, that's two hundred and
fifty thousand dollars."

"Just so," said Morris, smiling.

"That's an awful pile of money! Why, dad's been workin' all his life,
and he isn't wuth more'n three thousand dollars at the outside."

"I am afraid three thousand dollars wouldn't last me a very long time,"
said Morris, with an amused smile.

"Gosh! Where can anybody get such a pile of money? That's what beats
me!"

"Business, my young friend, business! Why I've made that amount of
money in one day."

"You don't say!"

"Yes, by speculating in Wall Street."

"You must be smart!"

"My teachers didn't seem to think so. But life in the city is very
different from life in the country."

"I wish I could make some money."

"A man must have money to make money. If now you had a little money----"

"I've got ten dollars to pay my expenses."

"Is that all?"

"No; I've got fifteen dollars to buy a shawl and dress for marm, and
some shirts for dad. He thought he'd like some boughten shirts. The
last marm made for him didn't fit very well."

"You must take good care of your money, Mr. Bascom. I regret to say
that we have a great many pickpockets in New York."

"So I've heerd. That's what Jim Duffy told me. He went to York last
spring. But I guess Jim was keerless or he wouldn't have been robbed.
It would take a smart pickpocket to rob me."

"Then you keep your money in a safe place?"

"Yes, I keep my wallet in my breeches pocket;" and Joshua slapped the
right leg of his trousers in a well satisfied way.

"You are right! I see you are a man of the world. You are a sharp one."

Joshua laughed gleefully. He felt pleased at the compliment.

"Yes," he chuckled, "I ain't easy taken in, I tell you, ef I was born
in the woods."

"It is easy to see that. You can take care of yourself."

"So I can."

"That comes of being a Bascom. I am glad to know that we are related.
You must call on me in New York."

"Where do you live?"

"At the Fifth Avenue Hotel. Just ask for Ferdinand Morris. They all
know me there."

"Is that a good place to stop?"

"Yes, if you've got money enough. I pay five dollars a day for my
board, and some extras carry it up to fifty dollars a week."

"Gosh all hemlock!" ejaculated Joshua, "I don't want to pay no more'n
five dollars a week."

"You can perhaps find a cheap boarding-house for that sum--with plain
board, of course."

"That's what I'm used to. I'm willin' to get along without pie."

"You like pie, then?"

"We ginerally have it on the table at every meal, but I can wait till I
get home."

"I will see what I can do for you. In fact, all you've got to do is to
buy a morning paper, and pick out a boarding-house where the price will
suit you. You must come and dine with me some day at the Fifth Avenue
Hotel."

"Thank you! You're awful kind, but I'm afraid I ain't dressed up enough
for such a stylish place."

"Well, perhaps not, but I might lend you a suit to go to the table in.
We are about the same build."

"If you've got an extra suit----"

"An extra suit? Mr. Bascom, I have at least twenty extra suits."

"Gee-whillikens! What do you want with so many clothes?"

"I never wear the same suit two days in succession. But I must bid you
good morning, Mr. Bascom. I have a friend in the next car."

Morris rose, and Joshua, feeling much flattered with his polite
attentions, resumed his glances out of the window.

"Apples, oranges, bananas!" called the train boy, entering the car with
a basket of fruit.

"How much do you charge?" asked Joshua. "I feel kind of hungry, and I
haven't ate an orange for an age. Last time I bought one was at the
grocery up to hum."

"The large oranges are five cents apiece," said Fred. "I can give you
two small ones for the same price."

"I'll take two small ones. It seems a great deal of money, but I'm
traveling and that makes a difference."

"Here are two good ones!" said Fred, picking out a couple.

"All right! I'll take 'em!"

Joshua Bascom thrust his hand into his pocket, and then a wild spasm
contracted his features. He explored it with growing excitement, and a
sickly pallor overspread his face.

"What's the matter?" asked Fred.

"I've been robbed. My wallet's gone!" groaned Joshua in a husky voice.



CHAPTER II.

A FAIR EXCHANGE.

"Who can have robbed you?" asked the train boy, sympathetically.

"I dunno," answered Joshua sadly.

"How much have you lost?"

"Twenty-five dollars. No," continued Mr. Bascom with a shade of relief.
"I put dad's fifteen dollars in my inside vest pocket."

"That is lucky. So you've only lost ten."

"It was all I had to spend in York. I guess I'll have to turn round and
go back."

"But who could have taken it? Who has been with you?"

"Only Mr. Morris, a rich young man. He is nephew to the mayor of New
York."

"Who said so?"

"He told me so himself."

"How was he dressed?" asked Fred, whose suspicions were aroused. "Did
he wear a white hat?"

"Yes."

"And looked like a swell?"

"Yes."

"He got off at the last station. It is he that robbed you."

"But it can't be," said Joshua earnestly. "He told me he was worth
quarter of a million dollars, and boarded at the Fifth Avenue Hotel."

"And was nephew of the mayor?"

"Yes."

Fred laughed.

"He is no more the mayor's nephew than I am," he said. "He is a
confidence man."

"How do you know?' asked Joshua, perplexed.

"That is the way they all act. He saw you were a countryman, and made
up his mind to rob you. Did you tell him where you kept your money?"

"Yes, I did. He told me there was lots of pickpockets in New York, and
said I ought to be keerful."

"He ought to know."

"Can't I get my money back?" asked Mr. Bascom anxiously.

"I don't think there's much chance. Even if you should see him some
time, you couldn't prove that he robbed you."

"I'd like to see him--for five minutes," said the young farmer, with a
vengeful light in his eyes.

"What would you do?"

"I'd give him an all-fired shakin' up, that's what I'd do."

Looking at Mr. Bascom's broad shoulders and muscular arms, Fred felt
that he would be likely to keep his word in a most effectual manner.

"I don't know what to do," groaned Joshua, relapsing into gloom.

As he spoke he slid his hand into his pocket once more, and quickly
drew it out with an expression of surprise. He held between two fingers
a handsome gold ring set with a neat stone.

"Where did that come from?" he asked.

"Didn't you ever see it before?" inquired the train boy.

"Never set eyes on it in my life."

"That's a joke!" exclaimed Fred with a laugh.

"What's a joke?

"Why, the thief in drawing your wallet from your pocket dropped his
ring. You've made an exchange, that is all."

"What is it worth?" asked Joshua, eagerly. "Permit me, my friend," said
a gentleman sitting just behind, as he extended his hand for the ring.
"I am a jeweler and can probably give you an idea of the value of the
ring."

Joshua handed it over readily.

The jeweler eyed it carefully, and after a pause, handed it back.

"My friend," he said, "that ring is worth fifty dollars!"

"Fifty dollars!" ejaculated Joshua, his eyes distended with surprise.
"I can't understand it. Cousin Sue has got a gold ring as big as this
that only cost three dollars and a half."

"Very likely, but the stone of this is valuable. You've made money out
of your pickpocket, if he only took ten dollars from you."

"But he'll come back for it."

The jeweler laughed.

"If he does, tell him where you found it, and ask how it came in your
pocket. He won't dare to call for it."

"I'd rather have the ten dollars than the ring."

"I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll advance you twenty-five dollars on
the ring, and agree to give it back to you any time within a year on
payment of that sum, and suitable interest."

"You can have it, mister," said Joshua promptly.

As he pocketed the roll of bills given him in exchange, his face glowed
with returning sunshine.

"By gosh!" he said, "I've made fifteen dollars."

"That' isn't a bad day's work!" said Fred.

"It's more'n I ever earned in a month before," said the young farmer.
"I declare it's paid me to come to the city."

"You are lucky! Look out for pickpockets, as they don't always give
anything in exchange. Now you can afford to buy some oranges."

"Give me two five-cent oranges and a banana," said Mr. Bascom with
reckless extravagance. "I guess I can afford it, now I've made fifteen
dollars."

"I wish that pickpocket would rob me," said Fred smiling. "Fifteen
dollars would come in handy just now," and his smile was succeeded by a
grave look, for money was scarce with the little household of which he
was a member.

It is time to speak more particularly of Fred, who is the hero of this
story. He was a pleasant-looking, but resolute and manly boy of
seventeen, who had now been for some months employed on the Erie road.
He had lost a place which he formerly occupied in a store, on account
of the failure of the man whom he served, and after some weeks of
enforced leisure had obtained his present position. Train boys are
required to deposit with the company ten dollars to protect their
employer from possible loss, this sum to be returned at the end of
their term of service. They are, besides, obliged to buy an official
cap, such as those of my readers who have traveled on any line of
railroad are familiar with. Fred had been prevented for some weeks from
taking the place because he had not the money required as a deposit. At
length a gentleman who had confidence in him went with him to the
superintendent and supplied the sum, and this removing the last
obstacle, Fred Fenton began his daily runs. He was paid by a twenty per
cent, commission on sales. It was necessary, therefore, for him to take
in five dollars in order to make one for himself. He had thus far
managed to average about a dollar a day, and this, though small, was an
essential help to his widowed mother with whom he lived.

Just before reaching Jersey City, Joshua Bascom appealed to Fred.

"Could you tell me where to stop in York?" he asked. "Some nice cheap
place?"

"I know a plain boarding-house kept by a policeman's wife, who lives
near us," said Fred. "She would probably board you for five dollars a
week."

"By hokey, that's just the place." said Joshua. "If you do it, I'll
make it right with you."

"Never mind about that!" said Fred. "All you've got to do is to come
with me. It will be no trouble."



CHAPTER III.

FRED'S RICH RELATION.

It was seven o'clock when Fred reached home. He and his mother occupied
three rooms in a tenement house, at a rental of ten dollars a month. It
was a small sum for the city, but as Fred was the chief contributor to
the family funds, rent day was always one of anxiety. It so happened
that this very day rent was due, and Fred felt anxious, for his mother,
when he left home, had but seven dollars towards it.

He opened the door of their humble home, and received a welcoming smile
from Mrs. Fenton, a pleasant-looking woman of middle age.

"I am glad to see you back, Fred," she said. "The days seem long
without you."

"Have you brought me a picture book, Fred?" asked his little brother.

"No, Bertie, I can't bring you picture books every day. I wish I
could."

"Albert has been drawing from his last book," said Mrs. Fenton. "He
really has quite a taste for it."

"We must send him to the Cooper Institute Drawing School when he gets
older. Did the landlord come, mother?"

"Yes," answered Mrs. Fenton, a shade passing over her face.

"What did he say? Did he make any fuss?"

"He was rough and unpleasant. He said he mast have his money promptly
or we must vacate the rooms."

"Did he take the seven dollars?"

"Yes, he took it and gave me a receipt on account. He said he must have
the balance to-morrow."

"I don't see how we can pay it. The company owes me more, but I shan't
get paid till Saturday night."

"Don't they advance it to you?"

"It is against the rule. Besides I couldn't get it in time."

"There is a lady in Lexington Avenue owing me four dollars for sewing,
but when I went there today I heard that she was out of town."

"It is very provoking to be kept out of your money when you need it so
much. If we only had a little money ahead, we could get along well.
Something must be done, but I don't know what."

"You might go round to Cousin Ferguson."

"I hate to ask a favor of that man, mother."

"You remember that your poor father owned a small tract of land in
Colorado. When Robert Ferguson went out three months since I asked him
to look after it, and ascertain whether it was of any value. As I have
heard nothing from him, I am afraid it is worthless."

"I will go and ask him, mother. That is a matter of business, and I
don't mind speaking to him on that subject. I will go at once."

"Perhaps he may be willing to advance a few dollars on it."

"At any rate I will go."

Robert Ferguson lived in a plain brick house on East Thirty-Ninth
Street. He was a down-town merchant, and in possession of a snug
competence. Mrs. Fenton was his own cousin, but he had never offered to
help her in any way, though he was quite aware of the fact that she was
struggling hard to support her little family. He had a son Raymond who
was by no means as plain in his tastes as his father, but had developed
a tendency to extravagance which augured ill for his future. He had
never cared to cultivate the acquaintance of his poor cousins, and
whenever he met Fred treated him with ill-concealed contempt.

It so happened that he was just leaving the house as Fred ascended the
steps.

"Good morning, Raymond," said Fred politely.

"Oh, it's you, is it?"

"Yes," answered Fred briefly, for he did not like the style in which
his cousin addressed him.

"What do you want round here?"

"I want to see your father."

"I guess he's busy."

"I want to see him on business," said Fred, pulling the bell.

"If you want to borrow any money it's no use. I struck him for ten
dollars just now, and he only gave me two."

"Did I say I wanted to borrow any money?"

"No, you didn't say so, but I couldn't think of any other business you
could have."

Fred did not have occasion to answer, for here the door opened, and the
servant stood on the threshold.

"Is Mr. Ferguson at home?" he asked.

"Yes; will you come in?"

Fred followed the girl into the back parlor where Robert Ferguson sat
reading the evening paper.

He looked up as Fred entered.

"Good evening, Mr. Ferguson," he said.

"Good evening, Frederick," said his relative coldly.

"My mother asked me to call and inquire whether you heard anything of
father's land in Colorado."

"Ahem!" coughed Mr. Ferguson. "I hope she built no day dreams on its
possible value."

"No sir; but she hoped it might be worth something--even a small sum
would be of value to us."

"The fact is, these Western lands are worth little or nothing."

"Father used to say that some time or other the land would be worth a
good sum."

"Then I don't think much of your father's judgment. Why, I don't
believe you could give it away. Let me see, how much was there?"

"A hundred and twenty-five acres."

"How did you father get possession of it?"

"There was a man he took care of in his sickness, who gave it to him
out of gratitude."

Robert Ferguson shrugged his shoulders.

"It would have been better if he had given him the same number of
dollars," he said.

"Then you don't think it worth as much as that?"

"No, I don't."

Fred looked disappointed. In their darkest days, he and his mother had
always thought of this land as likely some time to bring them
handsomely out of their troubles, and make a modest provision for their
comfort. Now there seemed to be an end to this hope.

"I would have sent your mother word before," said Robert Ferguson, "but
as the news was bad I thought it would keep. I don't see what possessed
your father to go out to Colorado."

"He was doing poorly here, and some one recommended him to try his
chances at the West."

"Well, he did a foolish thing. If a man improves his opportunities here
he needn't wander away from home to earn a living. That's my view."

"Then," said Fred slowly, "you don't think the land of any value?"

"No, I don't. Of course I am sorry for your disappointment, and I am
going to show it. Let your mother make over to me all claim to this
land, and I will give her twenty-five dollars."

"That isn't much," said Fred soberly.

"No, it isn't much, but it's better than nothing, and I shall lose by
my bargain."

Fred sat in silence thinking over this proposal. The land was the only
property his poor father had left, and to sell it for twenty-five
dollars seemed like parting with a birthright for a mess of pottage.

On the other hand twenty-five dollars would be of great service to them
under present circumstances.

"I don't know what to say," he answered slowly.

"Oh, well, it is your lookout. I only made the offer as a personal
favor."

Mr. Ferguson resumed the perusal of his paper, and thus implied that
the interview was over.

"Cousin Ferguson," said Fred, with an effort, "our rent is due to-day,
and we are a little short of the money to meet it. Could you lend me
three dollars till Saturday night?"

"No," answered Robert Ferguson coldly. "I don't approve of borrowing
money. As a matter of principle I decline to lend. But if your mother
agrees to sell the land she shall have twenty-five dollars at once."

Fred rose with a heavy heart.

"I will tell mother what you propose," he said. "Good evening!"

"Good evening!" rejoined Mr. Ferguson without raising his eyes from the
paper.

"Twenty-five dollars would be very acceptable just now," said Mrs.
Fenton thoughtfully, when Fred reported the offer of his rich relative.

"But it wouldn't last long, mother."

"It would do us good while it lasted."

"You are right there, mother, but I have no doubt the land is worth a
good deal more."

"What makes you think so? Cousin Ferguson----"

"Wouldn't have made the offer he did if he hadn't thought so, too."

"He might have done it to help us."

"He isn't that kind of a man. No, mother, it is for our interest to
hold on to the land till we know more about it."

"How shall we manage about the rent?"

Fred looked troubled.

"Something may turn up to-morrow. When the landlord comes, ask him to
come again at eight o'clock, when I shall be home."

"Very well, Fred."

Mrs. Fenton was so much in the habit of trusting to her son that she
dismissed the matter with less anxiety than Fred felt. He knew very
well that trusting for something to turn up is a precarious dependence,
but there seemed nothing better to do.




CHAPTER IV.

ZEBULON MACK.

At twelve that day the landlord, Zebulon Mack, presented himself
promptly at the door of Mrs. Fenton's room.

He was a small, thin, wrinkled man, whose suit would have been refused
as a gift by the average tramp, yet he had an income of four thousand
dollars a year from rents. He was now sixty years of age. At twenty-one
he was working for eight dollars a week, and saving three-fifths of
that. By slow degrees he had made himself rich, but in so doing he had
denied himself all but the barest necessaries. What he expected to do
with his money, as he was a bachelor with no near relatives, was a
mystery, and he had probably formed no definite ideas himself. But it
was his great enjoyment to see his hoards annually increasing, and he
had no mercy for needy or unfortunate tenants who found themselves
unable to pay their rent promptly.

Mrs. Fenton opened the door with a troubled look.

"I've come for that other three dollars, ma'am," said Zebulon Mack,
standing on the threshold.

"I'm very sorry, sir----" began the widow.

"What! haven't you got the money?" snarled Mack, screwing up his
features into a frown that made him look even more unprepossessing.

"My son Fred will be paid on Saturday night, and then----"

"Saturday night won't do. Didn't you promise it to-day?"

"Yes; and Fred tried to get an advance, but could not."

"Where is he working?"

"On the Erie road."

"Most likely he spends all his money for beer and cigarettes. I know
him. He looks like it."

"You are very much mistaken, sir," said Mrs. Fenton, indignantly.

"Oh, you think so, of course," sneered the landlord. "Mothers don't
know much about their boys, nor fathers either. I am glad I haven't a
son."

"I wouldn't be your son for a million dollars," said little Albert, who
resented the allusion to his big brother.

"Hey?" snarled Mack, opening his mouth and showing his tobacco-stained
tusks. "What business has a whipper-snapper like you to put in your
oar?"

"I ain't a whipper-snapper!" retorted Albert, who did not know the
meaning of the word, but concluded that it was not complimentary.

"Well, ma'am, what are you going to do? I can't stay here all day."

"Fred thought he would have the money by to-night. He asked if you
would call round after he got home."

"When is that?"

"He generally gets home at seven o'clock."

"Then I'll be here at seven, but if you haven't the money, then out you
go! Do you hear?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then mind you remember it. With so many swindling tenants a landlord
has a hard time."

He shambled off, and Mrs. Fenton breathed a sigh of temporary relief.
All the afternoon she felt troubled and anxious, and her anxiety
increased as the hours wore away.

"If Fred should be late as he sometimes is," she said to Bertie about
six o'clock, "I am afraid Mr. Mack will carry out his threat and turn
us out on the street."

"I won't let him," said Albert manfully.

"We can't help it," said Mrs. Fenton. "Do you think you could find your
way to the depot to meet Fred and hurry him home?"

"Oh, yes," answered the little boy. "I went there with Fred last week."

"You are sure you won't get lost?"

"What do you take me for, mother? I'd be ashamed to get lost anywhere
round the city."

"Then go, and tell Fred to hurry up. Mr. Mack is so strict and severe
that I am sure he won't wait a minute."

At seven o'clock precisely Mr. Mack returned and, looking at his watch,
said, "Time's up, ma'am."

"Wait just a few minutes!" pleaded Mrs. Fenton. "I expect Fred home
every minute."

"My time's valuable, ma'am. It is not likely the boy will have the
money any way.

"Won't you wait, then?

"Do you take me for a fool, ma'am? Here, Finnegan."

He had brought with him a man in his employ who for starvation wages
helped him move out tenants, and made himself useful in a general way.

"Here I am, Mr. Mack," said Finnegan.

"Just give me a hand with this bureau. We'll take that first."

"Oh, sir," pleaded Mrs. Fenton, "how can you be so merciless? In a few
minutes Fred will be here."

"I'm not a fool, ma'am. I told you I'd move you at seven o'clock, and
I'm a man of my word."

"Wait a minute and I'll see if I can borrow the money of Mrs. Sheehan."

"You ought to have thought of that before. I'll give you two minutes."

Mrs. Fenton sped down lo the rooms of Mrs. Sheehan on the next lower
floor.

"Can you lend me three dollars, Mrs. Sheehan?" asked Mrs. Fenton,
breathless. "Mr. Mack threatens to turn us out on the sidewalk."

"I wish I could, Mrs. Fenton," said Mrs. Sheehan heartily, "but I
bought my John a suit yesterday, and it's taken all my money except
seventy-five cents. I'd be glad to oblige you, indeed I would."

"I've no doubt of it," sighed the widow, for it was her last hope.

"Well, have you got the money?" asked Zebulon Mack, as she reappeared.

"No, sir."

"Just what I thought. Go ahead, Finnegan."

They took up the bureau and slowly moved to the door, and down the
staircase with it.

"It's a shame!" said Mrs. Sheehan, standing at her door.

"You'd better look out, ma'am! It may be your turn next," said the
landlord with a scowl. "If it is I won't wait for you a minute."

"It's a hard man, you are, Mr. Mack."

"I need to be," said Zebulon Mack grimly. "If I wasn't it's precious
little rent I'd get in."

The outlook for the Fentons was dark indeed.




CHAPTER V.

AN ADVENTURE ON THE TRAIN.

Fred was on board his regular train that same morning at the usual
hour, and started on his round of duty. He sold four morning papers,
but trade seemed rather