Title: Josiah in New York: or, A coupon from the Fresh Air Fund
Author: Otis, James
Language: English
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  JOSIAH IN NEW YORK;

  OR,

  A COUPON FROM THE FRESH
  AIR FUND.

  BY
  JAMES OTIS,

  AUTHOR OF “TOBY TYLER,” “LITTLE JOE,” “JACK THE HUNCHBACK,”
  ETC.


  BOSTON:
  A. I. BRADLEY & CO.
  1893.



  COPYRIGHT, 1893,
  BY
  A. I. BRADLEY & CO.

  _All Rights Reserved._



CONTENTS.


  CHAPTER.                            PAGE.

  I. THE SHINDLE FARM                     1

  II. THE ARRIVAL                        19

  III. A FRIEND IN NEED                  34

  IV. A SYSTEMATIC SEARCH                40

  V. A MEAN TRICK                        63

  VI. A THEATRE PARTY                    79

  VII. A MIDNIGHT ALARM                  93

  VIII. THE ZOOLOGICAL COLLECTION       114

  IX. THE EXCURSION                     130

  X. A DISAPPEARANCE                    145

  XI. BOB’S FRIEND                      158

  XII. THE MUSEUM                       171

  XIII. THE FEAST                       186

  XIV. THE PURSUIT                      201

  XV. THE ARREST                        215

  XVI. THE COUPON                       227

  XVII. AT HOME                         246



JOSIAH IN NEW YORK;

OR,

A COUPON FROM THE FRESH AIR FUND.



CHAPTER I.

THE SHINDLE FARM.


On this particular day an almanac would not have been needed to prove
to the visitor at the Shindle Farm that winter was near at hand.

The wide-spreading trees leading from the road to the low-studded
house, which made up in breadth what it lacked in height, had already
put on their autumnal dress of crimson, gold, and brown, embroidered
here and there with green left over from the last summer’s wardrobe.
The enormous barn was crowded to overflowing with fruits of the
harvest. Mows were heaped high with sweet-scented hay, and the
corn-bins filled almost to bursting. The granaries seemed to groan
under their heavy burdens, and the sleek cattle, noting the lack of
grass in the pastures, looked into the building now and then with an
air of satisfaction because of the ample supply of food housed for
their especial benefit.

The broad fields, so lately beautified with waving grass, golden grain,
and nodding plumes of vegetables, were waiting for the mantle of snow
with which they were to be covered until spring should come again.

The yellow pumpkins, dotting the brown earth like nuggets of gold,
were all that remained uncared for among the varied fruits of Farmer
Shindle’s industry.

The barn-yard fowls were fat, and looked so contented that it seemed
certain they could have no forebodings of the Thanksgiving soon to
come, while the sheep were comparing their new wool coats as if proud
of the perfect-fitting garments.

In the roomy kitchen, whose well-scrubbed floor contrasted vividly
with the bright brick hearth, were festoons of apples threaded on
strings, like a Christmas-tree’s pop-corn ornaments, and hung on
convenient pegs by the thrifty housewife, who bent solicitously over
the huge porcelain kettle wherein pumpkin rind was being converted into
imitation citron.

Everything about the farm, animate or inanimate, appeared to be aware
of winter’s approach; and none so plainly gave evidence of this fact as
did the heir of the Shindle estate, Master Josiah.

He was concluding his share of the harvest labors by tying together
large bunches of herbs which were to be hung in the broad-beamed attic
to serve, at no distant day, either as pleasing condiments for the
table, or distasteful tea for Josiah when his stomach should rebel
against too heavy a burden.

He well knew the uses to which these herbs would be put, and treated
them correspondingly.

The sage and summer savory were fastened together with tender care, and
a far-away look of happy anticipation came into his eyes as he thought
of the Thanksgiving turkey; while the pennyroyal and thoroughwort were
bound up roughly and tightly, as if he wished to avenge himself in
advance on the disagreeable mixtures these herbs would form for his
especial benefit.

This was to be the last of his duties on the farm for several days; and
the most careless observer could have told, from his movements as well
as the expression on his face, that some very decided change was near
at hand.

Every few moments he ran to his room where a well-worn but serviceable
leather valise stood half-packed with a miscellaneous assortment of
wearing apparel and trinkets, and, after a hasty survey of the odd
collection, returned to his work, each time consulting with his mother
as to the possibility of a storm in the near future.

Three months previous Mr. Shindle had received as boarders from New
York, five beneficiaries of the Fresh Air Fund in the persons of the
Bartlett twins, their brother Tom, and Bob and little Jimmy Green.

These visitors, three of whom were too young to get into very much
mischief, had spent a week at the farm; six whole days of pleasure
unalloyed, save at certain intervals, and when they returned to their
homes it was with the distinct understanding that Josiah should
pay them a visit as soon after the harvesting was ended as might be
convenient.

Master Shindle’s parents had been parties to this agreement; and from
the time he bade farewell to Bob and Tom at the railroad station,
probably not a single day passed without his speaking of the promised
visit.

He had never seen anything larger in the way of a town than Berry’s
Corner, where he lived, and which comprised not more than twenty
buildings, including one store, a blacksmith’s shop, and the
post-office.

Josiah’s anticipations were probably more keen than if no obstacles had
arisen which threatened to prevent the long-promised visit.

A week previous Farmer Shindle discovered that there was a possibility
of his being unable to go to the city at the time set by his son,
because of business which called him in another direction; and for
several days it seemed as if Josiah would be obliged to defer the
journey.

The first arrangement was that his father should accompany him to New
York, and come after him at the expiration of a week; for neither Mr.
nor Mrs. Shindle believed their son could, with safety, travel so far
alone.

As a matter of course the boy’s disappointment was great; and, after
several long and grave consultations, it was decided that if a letter
could be received from either Master Bartlett or Master Green,
announcing a willingness to meet him at the station in Jersey City, he
should be allowed to go unattended.

Josiah himself carried the letter addressed to “Thomas Bartlett,
Baker’s Court, New York, N.Y.,” to the post-office; and during the
next three days the government employee at Berry’s Corner had a very
vivid idea of the responsibility of his position, for the Shindle
heir visited the office at least twice in every twenty-four hours,
intimating more than once that the important missive might have been
sent in the wrong direction, or mislaid at that point.

Undoubtedly the postmaster felt relieved when it was possible for him
to deliver the reply directed to Farmer Shindle in not particularly
graceful penmanship; and Josiah was in a fever of excitement until he
learned the contents.

Tom and Bob promised to be at the railroad station on the Jersey-City
side of the river, awaiting the arrival of the train which would leave
Berry’s Corner at eleven o’clock Monday forenoon; and they assured
the farmer and his wife, more forcibly than elegantly, that there was
not the slightest danger in allowing Master Shindle to travel alone,
because of the watchful care they would have over him at the terminus
of the journey.

Finally the day came, as all days will, whether they be for good or
evil, which had been set for Josiah’s departure.

At eight o’clock in the morning he had scrubbed his freckled face twice
in such a vigorous manner as threatened to rub off the skin, while his
tow-colored hair was combed into a painful state of exactness.

Josiah was forced to complete the labor of caring for the herbs, which
should have been performed on the Saturday previous; and after the
last bunch had been carried into the attic he was at liberty once more
to inspect his baggage with a view of again assuring himself that
everything was in its proper place.

“The first thing I do after meeting Tom and Bob will be to sell them
woodchuck skins,” he said to his mother, as he came from his chamber
arrayed in a new suit of clothes, and staggering under the weight of
the huge valise. “Towser has bit one pretty bad, an’ father says nobody
will be crazy enough to buy them; but Bob told me there were lots
of stores in New York where nothin’ but fur was kept, an’ of course
they’ll want woodchucks.”

“Don’t count too strongly on getting much money from that source,
Josiah,” his mother said mildly. “You have got three dollars, and that
ought to be enough to spend in one week.”

“So it will if I don’t have to pay too big a price for the presents I
want to get you and father.”

“Don’t bother about us, my son, but enjoy yourself, and we will be just
as glad to see you empty-handed when Saturday comes, as if you brought
half the things in the city. Give me your hand-kerchief so I can tie
the money in one corner. Father’s going to pay for the railroad-ticket,
and you won’t have any use for it until you get to New York.”

Josiah had no intention of carrying his wealth in the manner proposed,
for if Tom and Bob should see it in such a receptacle they would call
him “green.”

He had provided himself with the proper outfit at the expense of no
small amount of time, and several of his most cherished treasures, by
trading with one of the neighbor’s boys for an old calf-skin wallet
many sizes too large for himself or his money. There were two holes
in it; but by the judicious use of glue and a piece of one of the
woodchuck skins, he had repaired the damages until, in his eyes at
least, the ancient pocket-book was as good as new.

There were many pennies in Josiah’s hoard; and after these had been
placed in the well-worn calf-skin, and the whole stowed snugly in
the inside pocket of his coat, a stranger might have fancied he was
slightly deformed; but this, according to the young traveler’s ideas,
was rather a pleasing addition, since, if the true nature of the
protuberance was discovered, he would be looked upon as a capitalist.

For at least the tenth time Mrs. Shindle laid down rules governing his
conduct during the six days he was to be absent from the farm.

“Don’t run around in the grass and get your feet wet, unless you
change your stockings at once; and be sure to do exactly as Mrs.
Bartlett tells you. Don’t wade in the brooks; and you must not wear
Tom’s mother’s life out bringing home all sorts of wild animals, as
you do here. It is very well to have woodchucks, crows, and foxes in
the country; but in the city, where there is so much less room to move
around, it will be terribly unhandy.”

Josiah promised faithfully to heed these injunctions; and after giving
his boots one more coating of tallow, locking the unwieldy valise, and
drawing his coat over the huge pocket-book, he was ready to start for
the station.

As a matter of course, it was necessary to bid adieu to the pet calf,
who was so well acquainted with the entire family that he did not
hesitate about entering the house whenever the doors were left open;
and, strange as it may seem, the animal exhibited no signs of grief at
his master’s departure.

He butted his head against Josiah’s stomach, intimating that he was
ready for another pail of milk; but the boy did not think it advisable
to run the risk of soiling his clothes; therefore, kissing the
demonstrative calf directly between the eyes, he clambered into the
wagon, which was drawn up in front of the kitchen door.

Then he leaned down from the lofty perch to kiss his mother, as
she once more repeated the well-meant advice; and, by an earnest
application of the whip, the fat horses were started down the lane,
while Towser ran on ahead, barking and wagging his short tail, ignorant
of the fact that his master was about to undertake so long and
seemingly dangerous a journey.

When the farm-house was shut out from view as the wagon turned into the
highway, a very large and uncomfortable lump came into Josiah’s throat;
and, despite the past three months’ anticipations, he began to feel
sorry such a visit had ever been contemplated.

Of course he wanted to see New York, and meet Tom and Bob, as well
as the twins and Jimmy; but this leaving his mother was by no means
pleasant, and it is probable he would have turned back then and there,
if he could have done so without absolutely saying he was homesick,
even before the farm was lost to view.

Every yard of distance traversed caused the lump in the traveler’s
throat to grow larger, and he was forced to shut his teeth tightly to
prevent a veritable sob from escaping.

He realized now more fully than ever before what a good friend a
fellow’s mother is.

He was ashamed to let his father know the state of his feelings, and on
arriving at the station remained suspiciously silent.

The tears were too near his eyelids to permit of speech without giving
them an opportunity to flow, and he paid no attention to his best
clothes as he took Towser in his arms and kissed him again and again.

Every thump of the dog’s tail against his side seemed like a reproach
because he was willing to go away even for so short a time; and when,
with many a puff and hiss, the steaming engine brought the long train
of cars to a standstill, the traveler could not even bid his father
adieu.

“Be a good boy, Josiah; don’t get into mischief; and I’ll come for you
bright and early Saturday.”

Without replying, Josiah went quickly into the cars lest his tears
should be seen; and seating himself at the window he watched Towser,
who ran back and forth on the platform in the greatest anxiety because
his young master had disappeared from view.

This was not calculated to dispel the sorrow in the boy’s heart; and
when the train moved away, Towser following to the very borders of the
settlement, Josiah could control his feelings no longer.

Leaning his head on the window-frame, he gave full sway to grief; and
when the tears had ceased flowing sufficiently for him to look out once
more, there was no familiar object in sight.

Berry’s Corner was far away; and as he thought of this fact there might
have been another shower of tears if the newsboy had not thrown into
the seat a package of candy with, perhaps, the well-meant advice:--

“Better buy that, bub! Only ten cents, an’ a prize in every lot! It’ll
kinder keep your mind off the calves you’re leavin’ behind.”

This last remark may have been intended as a joke; but Josiah’s heart
was too sore to admit of his taking it as such, and he answered
indignantly:--

“If you ever owned a calf as good as mine, you’d be sorry to leave him.”

“Full-blooded Jersey, I suppose? Eighty to a hundred quarts of milk
when you fill the pail with water?” the boy said with a chuckle of
satisfaction, and then added impatiently, “Come, pay me for that candy!
I can’t stand here all day!”

Josiah was dimly conscious of the fact that he had not agreed to make
the purchase; but the boy’s tone was so peremptory that the huge
pocket-book was drawn forth with no slight difficulty, much to the
amusement of the candy vendor.

After this financial transaction was completed, and Josiah had opened
the package only to find the cheapest of brass pins as a prize, the
first attack of homesickness began to pass away.

He was angry because of having been cheated; and this fact, together
with the panorama which could be seen from the window, so diverted his
attention that, for the time being, he forgot both the calf and Towser.



CHAPTER II.

THE ARRIVAL.


A glance at the plethoric pocket-book caused the boy on the train to
feel a kindly interest in the traveler from Berry’s Corner; and as a
result of this one-sided friendship Josiah, in a comparatively short
time, had two more brass pins with their accompaniment of candy, a roll
of colored pictures, and three bananas.

If the distance had been longer, to this collection would have been
added the news-agent’s broken-bladed knife; for he had already begun
to make overtures toward such a sale when the train rolled into the
station, and the journey was at an end.

“Jersey City!” the conductor shouted, and the newsboy said
imploringly:--

“Hold on a while. You’ll have plenty of time; the cars won’t be pulled
out for twenty minutes yet, and I’ve got a lot of things to trade.”

Josiah paid no attention to the young man’s request. His one desire
was to meet Tom and Bob as soon as possible, and there was no question
in his mind but that they were at this moment standing on the platform
ready to receive him.

He fancied the general arrangement of the station would be similar
to the one at Berry’s Corner, and, therefore, anticipated but little
trouble in finding his friends.

Staggering under the weight of the heavy valise, he hurried to the
door, despite the news-agent’s attempts to detain him, and, stepping
down on the platform, looked about him in bewilderment.

Crowds of people hurrying to and fro as if their very lives depended
upon reaching a certain point at a given time; trucks of baggage; odd,
crate-like carts with tiny wheels, drawn by well-groomed horses, and
the impatient panting of the engines, all served to confuse him greatly
and frighten him not a little.

Had he been sufficiently friendly with the newsboy to have confided in
him as to his intended course after leaving the cars, he might have
been told that Tom and Bob could not get into the train-shed, but would
be obliged to wait outside near the ferry-slip.

Since he was ignorant regarding the rules governing the waiting friends
of passengers, he considered it necessary to remain exactly where
he had alighted, arguing with himself that the boys might have been
detained at home, and would soon arrive.

No one paid any attention to him.

Each person was bent on his or her business or pleasure; and the boy
from the country, with his satchel beside him, stood looking first in
one direction and then another for those who were to introduce him to
city life.

When the passengers from the incoming train had alighted, many people
came from the waiting-rooms to embark in the several cars which had
been made ready for departure; and this change in the living current
was to Josiah most perplexing.

He fancied he was in the station proper, and believed the new-comers
had simply chanced to enter from the street in such large groups.

For a time he was interested in the bustle and confusion everywhere
around him, and then came the thought that possibly his friends might
be on the outside.

“I reckon that’s where they’re waitin’; an’ I’ve been standin’ here
like a bump on a log, showin’ folks jest how green I am.”

Although Josiah was not ashamed of living at Berry’s Corner, he hoped
it might be possible to pass as a city boy, for he had a certain dread
of appearing “countrified.”

In order to prevent any possibility of this, he decided not to ask a
single question relative to locations; but to follow in the direction
taken by his fellow-passengers half an hour previous.

A sign-board bearing the name “Jersey City” attracted his attention;
and he argued with himself that since this was the point where he was
to meet the boys, he could not go astray by pursuing the path thus
marked out.

The natural result was that he found himself in the street opposite
Taylor’s Hotel, almost deafened by the clatter of wheels, the cries of
street vendors, and bewildered by the apparently inextricable tangle
of vehicles.

Tom and Bob were nowhere to be seen.

Standing with his back against an awning-post and his valise at his
feet, he spent another long, weary time of waiting; but all in vain.

A feeling of utter desolation and homesickness came over him, and he
began to question whether his proper course would not be to return to
the farm immediately.

A desire to be free from the bewildering bustle prompted him to do
so; but the wish to see the big city of which he had heard so much,
overbalanced the homesickness.

Two hours had elapsed since he alighted from the train, and there was
no longer any good reason to believe his friends’ non-appearance the
result of accidental delay.

They must either have forgotten the time set for his arrival, or made
some mistake as to the station at which he would land.

“I ought to be big enough to find my way around a city, even if I
never was in one before,” he said to himself. “I reckon ’most anybody
can tell me where Baker’s Court is, an’ I’ll jest give Bob an’ Tom a
s’prise.”

The longer he revolved the plan in his mind the more feasible did it
seem; and when the hands of the neighboring clock pointed to half-past
two, he started valiantly forward toward the entrance of the ferry-slip.

Greatly to his surprise the ticket-taker called sharply to him at the
moment when his valise had become wedged across the narrow passage
in such a manner that he was forced to come to a halt, much to the
annoyance of a stout lady immediately behind him, who was urged forward
by the throng in the rear.

“Two cents!” the man cried, tapping impatiently on the ledge in front
of him, and the stout lady said quite sharply:--

“Why don’t you have your money ready before coming inside, boy, and not
delay people in this manner?”

“I didn’t know I had to pay anything; father bought me a ticket from
Berry’s Corner to New York,” and Josiah allowed his valise to drop
dangerously near the stout lady’s feet, as he began to explain more
fully why he was impeding travel in such a manner.

“Never mind all that,” she said irritably. “Pay the money, and let me
get past!”

Josiah tried to obey both these commands at the same moment.

With one hand he seized the valise, while with the other he attempted
to extricate the huge pocket-book from its resting place, succeeding
only in causing the anger of the lady to increase.

In the meantime other persons were arriving, and, much against their
will, were obliged to see the boat on which they had intended to take
passage depart, while they were yet outside the gate.

The many commands for Josiah to “move on,” “get out,” and “don’t stay
there all day,” so bewildered the boy that he remained silent and
motionless as if unable to decide whether he should give his attention
first to the valise or the pocket-book.

The ticket agent came to his relief by saying:--

“Step inside until you can find your money, and let the other
passengers through.”

Josiah understood this command, and obeyed instantly, heeding not the
angry glances which were bestowed upon him as the long-delayed throng
succeeded in reaching the slip.

Then, working more leisurely, after considerable difficulty he
succeeded in extricating his money from the depth of pocket and
pocket-book, and paid the amount demanded.

This done, he marched on board the first boat which appeared ready to
leave.

Again did the fates decide against Josiah’s meeting his friends.

The boat on which he took passage was the one bound for Desbrosses
Street, while Tom and Bob, if they had concluded to wait any longer
on the chance of his coming, would be devoting their attention to the
Courtland Street ferry.

Josiah had never been on a steamboat before; and he found very much
to occupy his attention, not only on board, but in the scene upon the
river.

The largest stream he had ever seen was the trout brook at Berry’s
Corner, and this broad expanse of water astonished him.

It was several moments before he could convince himself that he was not
upon the Atlantic Ocean. The many craft of every description darting
here and there, filled him with wonder and amazement; and so interested
was he in all around, that when the boat was made fast at the ferry
slip on the New York side, he paid no attention to the fact of its
being necessary to go ashore.

Standing at the after end of the steamer, he remained looking out over
the river until one of the deck-hands asked:--

“Did you just come aboard, sonny?” intending, of course, to inquire if
he was a passenger from that side of the river.

“Yes,” Josiah replied, unconscious of the flight of time. “Say, is this
the harbor or the bay?”

“It’s the North River, sonny. Where are you bound for?”

“Well, you see, I jest come from Berry’s Corner, an’ am goin’ to
Baker’s Court to visit Bob an’ Tom.”

The man was called away at this moment by the arrival of several heavy
teams; and Josiah was so deeply occupied with the strange sights that
the boat had started, and was nearly across once more before he became
aware that there had been any stop made.

Then he asked one of the passengers standing near by, how long it would
be before they arrived at New York.

“We are leaving that side now. Are you going to Jersey City?”

“Why, I’ve jest come from _there_!”

“Didn’t get off, eh? So you are trying to cheat the ferry company out
of two cents?”

“No, I ain’t either. I paid the money before comin’ aboard.”

“Then you should have landed when the boat stopped.”

“But what shall I do now? I want to go to New York.”

“Stay here till the boat starts again, and then keep your wits about
you, if you can, long enough to understand when she stops.”

Josiah was beginning to realize he had made a mistake, and, in order to
be certain of the proper direction, looked around for the station when
the boat entered the slip.

As a matter of course, he failed to see any such building, and in
a troubled frame of mind remained leaning against the rail with his
precious valise between his feet until the deck-hand approached once
more.

“Say, why don’t you get off?” the man demanded.

“’Cause I want to go to Baker’s Court.”

“Well, what’s to hinder you?”

“Has the boat got there?”

“Got where?”

“Why, to Baker’s Court.”

“Look here, young feller, what are you givin’ me? Where is Baker’s
Court, anyhow?”

“It’s where Tom an’ Bob live in New York, of course.”

“We’ve just come from there. Now, when the boat stops again take a
sneak, do you hear? Go over to the forward end where you can see when
she is in the dock, if you’re so dumb you can’t tell whether she’s
movin’ or not.”

Josiah obeyed meekly, and when the steamer entered the slip on the
opposite side of the river he took very good care to follow the
passengers; but, a short time later, deeply regretted having done so.

The streets were thronged with vehicles to a greater extent than he had
ever seen the streets at home, even when a circus was in town; and no
one appeared to have a care whether he was crushed beneath the feet of
the horses, or forced to remain on the sidewalk.

It was this apparent selfishness which struck the boy from the country
more forcibly than anything he had experienced since his departure from
home.

Even the ladies jostled him as he lingered on the crossings to
ascertain whether the teams on the right or the left were the most
likely to run him down; and the gentlemen had no hesitation in pushing
him to this side or that, as best suited their convenience.

“Seems to me folks are in an awful hurry here. It must be there’s
somethin’ goin’ on. I’ve come to town to see all there is, an’ reckon
I’ll foller the crowd for a while. There’ll be plenty of time to find
Baker’s Court after I’ve had a look at the show.”

Josiah followed the pedestrians with no slight difficulty, owing to the
weight of his valise.

He failed to see any evidence of a “show,” other than such as was
obtainable from the shop windows.

Changing his valise from one hand to the other at short intervals, he
continued on until it seemed as if several miles had been traversed,
when he stopped in dismay.

“This won’t do! I’ll get lost the first I know, an’ then there _will_
be a muss! I reckon I would have to spend as much as twenty-five cents
if I wanted to stay all night in a hotel.”

It was time he made some inquiries as to the location of Baker’s Court,
and he began by attempting to stop the next gentleman who passed.

“Get out of the way! I have nothing for you.”

“But I want”--

The gentleman had hurried on without waiting to hear the explanation,
and Josiah eagerly turned to another.

In this second case he met with the same rebuff; and after attempting
four times to make the necessary inquiries, it dawned upon him that he
was mistaken for a beggar.

“The people here must be fools if they can’t answer a civil question,”
he said to himself. “I’m sure there ain’t anybody up our way who
wouldn’t tell a feller where he oughter go.”

“What’s the matter, bub?” and a big, blue-coated policeman halted
directly in front of Josiah.

“I wanter find Baker’s Court, an’ nobody’ll tell me the way. They act
as if I was beggin’.”

“Baker’s Court, eh? I wonder where that is?” the officer muttered half
to himself.

“That’s what I wonder, too. You see, Tom an’ Bob ’greed to meet me at
the station, but didn’t come, an’ I thought it wouldn’t be much trouble
to find their house.”

“Where do you live?”

“At Berry’s Corner, an’ I’m here to stay a whole week. You see, the
Bartlett twins, an’ Tom an’ Bob, an’ Bob’s brother Jimmy, was out to
the farm this summer, an’ said when they left if I’d come here they’d
give me an awful good time, so”--

The policeman, instead of listening, was referring to a book which he
had taken from his pocket; and, finding that no attention was paid to
his story, Josiah ceased speaking.

“Baker’s Court runs off West Broadway, and that is a long distance
from here. I reckon you’ll have hard work to find it; but after you’ve
walked half an hour or so, ask some policeman, and he’ll tell you.”

“Half an hour or so!” Josiah repeated in dismay.

“Yes, I allow it will take that long, and if you don’t stir yourself
right lively you won’t get there before dark.”

Once more Josiah lifted the huge valise, and, following the direction
pointed out by the officer, pursued his weary way with a heart quite as
heavy as the burden in his hand, because of the possibility of being
lost in the crowded streets, where, as he believed, so many terrible
deeds of violence were perpetrated upon unsuspecting travelers.



CHAPTER III.

A FRIEND IN NEED.


“I oughter gone home,” Josiah said to himself as he trudged slowly
along, his burden growing heavier each moment. “Now it begins to look
as if I stood a good chance of being lost, and what’ll become of me if
I don’t find Tom and Bob before dark?”

He made no attempt to answer his own question, but resolved to follow
implicitly the directions given by the policeman, taking advantage of
every opportunity to note the time, in order that he might not walk a
single minute less than the full number set by the officer.

The half-hour came to an end, however, and the dark shadows of evening
were beginning to lengthen, much to the young traveler’s uneasiness,
when he arrived at an open square, at one end of which could be seen
a number of cabs, and on either side horse-car after horse-car until
Josiah fancied all of these vehicles ever made had been brought here
for inspection.

He halted.

It was easier to wait for a policeman than to search for one; and he
remained at what he afterward learned was the junction of the Bowery
and Chatham Square, a long while without seeing any guardians of the
peace.

A short distance below his halting-place, gaudy transparencies already
lighted up the dime museums, and along the edge of the sidewalk was a
row of street vendors, who were crying their wares in such a variety of
tones as to make a most discordant noise.

The night was fast approaching.

It was necessary Josiah should ask some one to direct him to his
friend’s home.

He was on the point of speaking with an Italian chestnut vendor, when
a tiny girl, hardly more than ten years of age, clad in a ragged dress
which had originally been brown, with the remains of a faded shawl over
her shoulders, and the veriest apology of a straw hat on her head,
stepped in front of him as she asked:--

“Don’t you want to buy some matches?”

Josiah dropped his valise and looked at her in astonishment. That a
child so small should be out on the street at such an hour, was quite
as surprising to him as that she should be insufficiently clad on a
night when thick clothing seemed an absolute necessity.

He stood gazing at her as if she was some curiosity which had escaped
from the museum below, until she repeated the question, and then he
replied gravely:--

“I don’t believe so; you see, I haven’t learned to smoke, an’ what
would I do with ’em?”

The girl continued her search for customers, Josiah watching her
intently, forgetting for the time being his own forlorn condition as he
noted the many efforts and equally as many failures to dispose of her
wares.

Ten minutes passed, and she had not sold a single box.

Just for an instant there was a lull in the living tide, and the child
had again approached Josiah, but without paying any attention to him.

“Do you sell matches all the time?” he asked.

“That’s what I have to do now. I tried to get into the newspaper
business, but didn’t dare to jump on an’ off the cars same as the boys
do, so couldn’t make very much at it.”

“It don’t strike me you’re earnin’ a great sight of money at what
you’re doin’ now. Haven’t sold a thing since I’ve been standin’ here.”

“No,” she said with a half-suppressed sigh, “somehow people don’t seem
to want to buy matches on the street. I got rid of ten cents’ worth to
one man, though, this afternoon.’

“How much profit was there in the trade?”

The girl looked up at Josiah inquiringly.

The boy repeated his question in another form.

“How much money did you make when you sold that lot?”

“Oh! I get a couple of boxes for one cent an’ sell ’em for two, so half
I take in is mine.”

“Do your folks live ’round here?”

“I haven’t got any. If I had I don’t reckon I’d be sellin’ matches.”

“I s’pose you live somewhere, though?”

“Oh, yes, old Mother Hunter lets me stay to her house for fifty cents a
week.”

“S’pose you don’t have money enough to pay her?”

“Then I guess she’d make me leave, same as Miss Spear did.”

“Who’s Miss Spear?”

“She’s the woman I went to live with when mother died, and ’twas an
awful place. She used to drink terrible, an’ two or three times gave me
a downright good whippin’ ’cause I didn’t bring home as much money as
she thought I oughter make.”

“What right did she have to whip you? She ain’t any relation, is she?”

“Of course not; but you see I was livin’ with her, an’ had to pay what
I promised, though when trade was good she used to want more. So I got
a chance to go with Mother Hunter.”

“Do you like this sort of business?”

“Indeed I don’t.”

“Why not try something else?”

“I wish I could. I thought I’d like to get a place in a store as cash
girl, but I was so small nobody wanted me, an’ besides, I didn’t have
any decent clothes. You see, if a girl like me gets that kind of a job,
she’s got to dress up mighty fine.”

“Well,” Josiah said as he stepped back a few paces and surveyed her
critically, “there’s one thing certain, you ain’t dressed very fine
now.”

“I know it,” the girl said half apologetically, as she looked down at
her faded gown; “but when a feller’s got on the best she owns, what you
goin’ to do ’bout it?”

Josiah was unable to answer this question. He had never seen any
one who looked so thoroughly wretched, as far as outside appearance
was concerned, not even the tramps who occasionally stopped at the
farm-house for food, and instinctively his hand went to that portion of
his vest underneath which rested the huge pocket-book.

“I haven’t got much money,” he said slowly, as if weighing some
important question in his mind; “but I’ll tell you what it is, little
girl; I’m willin’ to give you some of it to help along, ’cause it don’t
seem to me as if you was goin’ to earn much of anything to-night.”

The match-girl looked at him a moment, as if determining whether he was
serious in making this generous offer, and then said with what might
have been a laugh:--

“If you’re goin’ to stay in New York very long I guess you’ll need all
the money you’ve brought, an’ I must take care of myself same’s I’ve
been doin’. Say, where do you live?”

“At Berry’s Corner.”

“Where’s that?”

“Oh, it’s a good ways from here. I come in on the cars to visit Tom an’
Bob. They wasn’t at the station, an’ I’ve been huntin’ ever since for
’em. Looks like I was goin’ to have a pretty hard job. A policeman told
me to keep right on walkin’ half an hour, an’ then ask the way, so I
reckon it wouldn’t do any harm to find out if you know where Baker’s
Court is?”

The girl stood for an instant as if in deepest thought, and then
replied slowly:--

“No, I’m sure I don’t know anything about it. What street is it near?”

“The policeman said it led out of West Broadway.”

“Oh, I know where that is. It may be quite a ways though, an’ I
wouldn’t like to leave here till business was over.”

“Will you go then?”

“Of course; there’s nothin’ else to do but to hang ’round Mother
Hunter’s, an’ that ain’t very pleasant.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sadie Mitchell.”

Just at that moment conversation was interrupted by the tide of travel,
which had set in once more past that particular spot; and Sadie bent
all her energies to the disposal of her wares, while Josiah looked
around for a convenient place in which to remain with his satchel until
the business for the day could be brought to a close.

Now that he had the promise of a guide, and one in whom he felt every
confidence, he no longer had any anxiety regarding his ability to find
the friends whom he proposed to visit.

Not until night had come was the girl willing to abandon her efforts
toward procuring the amount of money which Mother Hunter might demand;
and, despite his occupation of watching the ever changing sea of faces
before him, Josiah grew impatient.

“If we don’t start pretty soon I’m ’fraid we won’t get there before
mornin’,” he said, with just a shade of petulance in his tones. “Is it
very much of a walk from here?”

“It might be, an’ then again it mightn’t. You see, I don’t know how
far out West Broadway it is. I’d have started sooner; but it’s been
dreadful hard sellin’ matches to-night, an’ I expect there’ll be an
awful row when I get home.”

“When are you goin’?”

“Now; but I must stop into the house just a minute before we try to
find Baker’s Court.”

“When will you get supper?”

“Oh I’ll run across somethin’ by an’ by. I don’t s’pose Mother Hunter’s
got much of anything, so it won’t take me long to do my eatin’.”

Josiah, who had been accustomed to having his meals regularly, was
astonished at the indifference displayed by his new acquaintance
regarding this matter; and as he looked at her critically while trying
to learn whether she was attempting to make sport of him, the fact that
he was decidedly hungry presented itself.

Owing to the excitement of the morning his breakfast had been a light
one, and since then he had had nothing but candy with which to satisfy
the cravings of his stomach.

What seemed like a very happy thought occurred to him.

“Is there any place ’round here where we could get somethin’ to eat?”
he asked abruptly.

“Of course. You can go to the Jim Fisk restaurant an’ fill yourself
up for fifteen cents; but that’s a good deal of money to give for one
supper. When trade’s been good I sometimes pay a dime down to Mose
Pearson’s for a great big bowl of soup, an’ as much bread an’ butter as
I want.”

Josiah was silent a moment, and then said with the air of one who has
fully decided an important matter:--

“Look here, Sadie, if you an’ I can get a big supper for fifteen cents,
we’re goin’ to have it, though it will make me kinder short on the
presents I was thinkin’ of buyin’ for father an’ mother; but they won’t
care when I tell ’em how I spent it.”

The match-girl’s eyes opened wide with astonishment and delight.

“Do you really mean that?” she asked, evidently fancying he was making
sport of her, and then added almost in the same breath, “I don’t think
you’d better do anything of the kind. It’s too much to put out jest for
the sake of swellin’.”

“I guess I can stand it,” Josiah said loftily. “I never was to the
city before, an’ it ain’t likely’s I shall get here again very soon,
so we’ll make the most of it while I’m on a good time. Besides, I must
have somethin’ to eat, an’ I want you to stay with me so’s to show me
where Tom an’ Bob live.”

Sadie made no further objection, for to have spread before her a
fifteen-cent meal at the Jim Fisk restaurant seemed the acme of
happiness.

“What will I do with my matches?” she asked.

“You haven’t got so many but I can put ’em in my pocket.”

“An’ I’ll carry the tray in my hand. You see, if I’m goin’ there with
you I wouldn’t like folks to think I’d been standin’ out here since
mornin’ sellin’ matches, an’ was blowin’ in all I’d made.”

“There’s no danger of that; they’ll believe we just come from the
country, an’ have got more money than we know what to do with,” Josiah
said with a consequential air as he lifted the heavy valise, and stood
waiting for Sadie to lead the way.

With the prospect of such a meal before her the match-girl did not
delay; and as soon as Josiah signified that he was ready, she started
toward Chatham Street at a pace which caused the boy, burdened as he
was, no slight difficulty to equal.

Both the young people were a little timid at entering such a
magnificent establishment as this restaurant appeared to be; but, aided
by one of the waiters, for business was not very brisk just at this
time, they were soon seated at a table which might have looked more
inviting had it been less conspicuous for coffee stains on the cloth.

“What do you want?” the waiter asked, with the air of one who is not
disposed to spend too much time upon his customers.

“Bring us all you’ve got for fifteen cents apiece,” Josiah replied; and
the man repeated the order in what seemed to the boy from the country
like a foreign tongue.

“Ain’t this just gorgeous?” Sadie whispered when they were
comparatively alone. “I never was in here but twice before, an’ I’d be
perfectly happy if I could always eat in such a fine place.”

“You ought to come out to the farm an’ see how mother gets supper,”
Josiah said proudly. “We always have clean table-cloths, an’ the dishes
ain’t so heavy’s these; though I don’t know but the more they weigh the
more they cost,” he added reflectively.

Then he described to her his home at Berry’s Corner; told her of Towser
and the pet calf, until once more the sickness for home assailed him.

The sight of the food, however, had a beneficial effect upon his mind;
and in a very short time the vision of the Shindle Farm had faded away
in the distance, leaving before him the pleasing knowledge that he was
hungry, and had plenty with which to satisfy that desire.

To Sadie the half-hour spent in the restaurant was one of unalloyed
pleasure. She thought everything around her was magnificent, and
fancied that in no other place could food be prepared in such an
inviting and appetizing manner.

“There!” she said as she ate the last kernel of rice which had helped
to make up the pudding, and the meal was at an end, “Now I don’t care
what Mother Hunter says. I ain’t hungry any more, an’ it don’t seem as
if I ever will be agin. What a lucky thing for me you happened to come
along, an’ wanted to find your chums. I expect I’ll be waitin’ ’round
here every night hopin’ to see somebody from Berry’s Corner, so’s to
have such an awful good time as we’ve had.”

To Josiah the supper had not been particularly appetizing, owing to the
fact that he was contrasting the food with that prepared by his mother,
and the result was decidedly in favor of the meals at the Shindle Farm.

It made him very comfortable in mind that he had been able to give the
little match-girl so much pleasure, however; and, after emerging from
the restaurant to where the gaudy lights of the dime museum could be
seen, another brilliant scheme entered his mind.

“Say, how much do they charge to go in there?” he asked.

“Ten cents.”

“Then we’ll go.”

“That will make half a dollar you’ve spent since you saw me, an’ it’s
too much for one day,” Sadie said in a whisper, as if the enormous
amount terrified her.

“I don’t care if it’s a dollar, we’re goin’ into that circus,” Josiah
said resolutely, as he changed his valise from one hand to the other in
order to rest his arm, and walked rapidly toward what was announced by
the posters to be the “Oriental Palace of Wonders.”

[Illustration]



CHAPTER IV.

A SYSTEMATIC SEARCH.


Josiah did not regret his reckless extravagance in spending twenty
cents for admission to the “circus.”

Without seeing the collection of alleged wonders he never could have
believed so many strange and odd things ever had an existence, and not
until fully two hours had elapsed was he willing to listen to Sadie’s
oft-repeated assertion that it “was time to go home.”

Very reluctantly he allowed himself to be led out of the building, and
once on the sidewalk again found it necessary to place the valise on
the curb in order that he might the better free his mind.

“Well, I declare! It beats anything I ever saw or heard tell of! Do you
s’pose that fat woman could be all alive, or was she blowed up the way
we do toads out our way?”

“She was a truly woman,” Sadie replied. “I used to know where one of
them kind of people lived, an’ she was so big she couldn’t hardly
get into a hoss car. If you want to see a dime show that’s better’n
this one, you oughter go up on the Bowery. All the boys say it’s just
gorgeous.”

“When I sell my woodchuck skins I’ll go, an’ you shall come along too.
We’ll stay all the afternoon, ’cause Bob an’ Tom’ll be with us, an’ I
reckon they’ll want to see it as much as I do.”

Sadie made no reply to this generous proposition, possibly because
she did not believe it would ever be carried into effect; and Josiah,
taking up his valise once more, followed as she led him toward Mother
Hunter’s.

Now that the glamour of the “circus” was partially dispelled by the
more prosaic appearance of surrounding objects, the boy from Berry’s
Corner began to question himself as to whether he had not, as his
companion suggested, spent too much money.

“I s’pose mother would think I was gettin’ reckless,” he said to
himself, “an’ I reckon it comes pretty nigh bein’ true; but p’rhaps the
woodchuck skins will bring a good price, so it won’t make very much
difference after all. I guess I’d better sell ’em before I go to that
other show.”

Having thus quieted his conscience, Josiah was enabled to take more
heed of his own movements, and asked his companion:--

“How far do you live from here?”

“It’s quite a walk; but you see I want to go there before we begin to
find Baker’s Court, ’cause I don’t know where the place is, an’ it may
take us a good while. Mother Hunter will be jest ravin’ if I ain’t back
to give her some money pretty soon.”

“How much have you got for her?”

“Eight cents.”

“That won’t buy a great deal.”

“It’ll be better’n nothin’, an’ kinder keep her quiet. If she knows I
ain’t got any more she can’t say very much, though she does raise awful
rows when I don’t bring home enough to pay for fillin’ her bottle.”

“What bottle?”

“The one she drinks from, of course. She gets terrible drunk sometimes,
an’ lays right down on the floor.”

“An’ do you stay in the house then?” Josiah asked.

“Of course. Where else could I go? You see, that is my home so long as
I pay what she asks, an’ it’s got to be there or on the street, though
I did walk ’round one night when she was on a tantrum.”

Josiah was shocked. He knew that at Berry’s Coiner on certain
occasions, Daniel Downs was known to be intoxicated, and it always
caused a great deal of excitement in the little settlement: but that
women could so far demean themselves had never entered his mind, and
more than once he decided Sadie must be mistaken.

It was destined he should have positive proof of the truth of the
statement; for when they arrived at the building, and after he had
followed her through an unlighted hall to as wretched a room as he
had ever seen, the girl stood pointing to what at first looked like a
bundle of rags on the floor.

“There she is! She must have been out beggin’, ’cause I know there
wasn’t any money in the house when I left.”

One hasty glance at the unconscious woman was sufficient for the boy
from the country, and, turning away to avoid looking at her, he asked
Sadie:--

“Now what are you goin’ to do?”

“Try to find your chums, of course.”

“I mean after that?”

“Why, I’m comin’ back here.”

“An’ stay all night in the same room with her?”

“Cert; what else could I do?”

“Well, I’m sure I can’t tell,” Josiah replied as he rubbed his chin
reflectively; “but it don’t seem safe.”

“Why not?”

“Nobody knows what she might do to you.”

“She couldn’t any more’n thump me, an’ I’ve got used to that since I’ve
been livin’ here.”

“Do you mean to say she really whips you?”

“Well, I guess you’d think so if you should see her. She throws things,
an’ knocks ’round terribly when she’s gettin’ over a spree; but say,
it must be growin’ late, an’ if we don’t hurry them fellers won’t be
awake.”

“I wonder what time it is?”

“’Bout ten o’clock.”

“Ten o’clock!” Josiah exclaimed. “Why, I never was up so late as this
except once, when the sewin’ circle was at our house, an’ Deacon Jones
an’ father was talkin’ so long that the deacon forgot to go home. You
see, mother didn’t want to send me to bed ’cause he’d think it was a
hint to him. I can’t go up there at this time of night.”

“Then you can stay here; there’s plenty of floor,” Sadie replied in a
matter-of-fact tone.

“Do you lay down there when you go to bed?”

“I can have my choice of doin’ that or standin’ up, so I stretch right
out, an’ am mighty glad of the chance most of the time.”

Josiah looked around the wretched apartment, then out of the window,
and back at the girl for whom he was beginning to entertain a very
friendly feeling.

“I’ll stay here too,” he said decidedly. “I don’t reckon there’ll be
much chance to sleep; but that old wretch sha’n’t pound you to-morrow,
unless she waits till I’ve gone out,” and Josiah laid his satchel in
one corner of the room, that it might serve him as a pillow.

Sadie was perfectly willing to defer the search for Tom and Bob until
morning.

This fellow from the country had treated her more kindly than the
majority of her boy acquaintances; and she was well content to have him
act as her guardian when the old woman, half crazed with the desire for
more liquor, should begin her usual tirade.

If the worthy Mother Hunter ever owned household goods, they had all
found their way to the second-hand stores or the pawnbroker’s shop
before this; for now one table, very shaky as to legs and with a
portion of the top missing, and two dilapidated chairs, comprised the
entire list of furniture.

Sadie’s preparations for the night were very simple.

She curled herself in the corner opposite Josiah, pulled her hat yet
farther down on her head to serve as a screen against the wind which
came in through the many crevices, and said “good-night.”

“Good-night,” Josiah replied absently, wondering how it was that a
frail girl like his new acquaintance could accustom herself to such
hardships; and then, thinking more earnestly than ever before of his
own rest-inviting bed with its lavender-scented sheets at home, he
followed her example.

It was the first time in his life he had ever attempted to pass a night
on the floor; and, despite the hardness of the boards, he slept soundly
until awakened by a shrill voice raised high in threatening tones.

Springing to his feet, it was several seconds before he fully
realized where he was; and then the rays of the rising sun falling
directly athwart the sleeping girl, served to clear from his mind the
bewilderment caused by the sudden outburst.

Mother Hunter was awake, and, if such a thing could be possible, looked
even more hideous than when asleep.

She was moving excitedly about the room, calling upon Sadie in no
gentle tones, and evidently searching for something which could not be
found.

“Who are you?” she asked, seeing Josiah for the first time.

“I’m a feller from Berry’s Corner. I met Sadie last night, an’ came
back here with her ’cause it was too late to find Tom an’ Bob.”

By this time the girl had awakened, and she said quickly:--

“It don’t make any difference to you who he is. He gave me a supper,
an’ that’s more’n I’d had if I’d come here.”

“So he’s got money to spend on sich as you, has he? An’ I’m starvin’
to death for a drop of somethin’ to warm my stomach!” the old woman
snarled.

“Well, starve then; he won’t give you anything to buy whiskey with.”

“Pay what you owe me, an’ that before you leave this house!”

Sadie took the eight cents from her pocket, knowing what a refusal
might cost, and gave them to the besotted wretch.

“Is that all you’ve got?” the old woman cried in a rage. “Give me the
whole of it, you little huzzey!”

“That’s what she made yesterday,” Josiah said firmly, thinking it time
he came to the rescue, “an’ now she’s goin’ out with me.”

The woman looked at him as if in surprise that he should dare speak in
such a tone to her, and while she was apparently lost in amazement
Josiah took advantage of the opportunity to lead Sadie from the room.

“There’s no use foolin’ with such a thing as that,” he said, as they
went through the long hall-way into the street. “The best way is to
skin right out an’ leave ’em alone. I reckon she’ll get enough to drink
with that eight cents to keep her quiet for a while, won’t she?”

“It don’t make any difference to me what she does, ’cause I sha’n’t
have to go back agin ’till night. Now we’ll try to find your chums, an’
then I’ll go to work.”

“But you haven’t had breakfast yet.”

“That don’t make any difference; I’ve been without so often I’ve kinder
got used to it.”

“Well, you’ll have one this mornin’; but I don’t b’lieve I can afford
to spend thirty cents more. S’posin’ we try to find somethin’ cheaper?”

“We can go ’round the corner an’ get two rolls an’ two sausages for
five cents, if Tony has come.”

“Who’s Tony?”

“He’s a Italian. There he is now!”

Looking in the direction indicated by Sadie, Josiah saw a dark-skinned
little man standing in front of a huge tin boiler, on the cover of
which was displayed, in what was intended to be a tempting array, a
collection of rolls and sausages.

In order that they might have an ample supply, the boy from the country
invested ten cents, and, eating as they walked, the two turned their
attention to finding Tom and Bob.

“I don’t reckon they’d be at home, if they sell newspapers for a
livin’, ’cause it’s time for the early editions already. S’pose we go
down by the City Hall, an’ we’ll be sure to find somebody what knows
’em.”

Josiah was ready to act upon any suggestion she might make, and
followed her unquestioningly, after asking whether or no she was
neglecting her own business by devoting so much time to him.

“Oh, no, folks don’t buy matches so early in the mornin’. Plenty of
time for me at ten o’clock,” Sadie replied; and then, seeing a small
boy on the opposite side of the street, she called loudly, “Hi! you
Sim! Sim!”

The boy turned in answer to her summons.

“Say, do you know the newsboys this feller’s huntin’ for?”

“What’s their names?”

“Tom Bartlett an’ Bob Green,” Josiah replied.

“Know ’em? Course I do. Why, they went down town not more’n half an
hour ago, an’ I reckon you’ll find ’em ’round the Astor House. Who is
that feller, anyhow?” he added, pointing to Josiah.

“He’s a boy from the country, an’ is goin’ to stay at Baker’s Court, so
we wanter find Tom an’ Bob as soon as we can;” and Sadie hurried away
as if time was too precious to admit of her spending many moments in
conversation, while Sim muttered as he was left alone on the sidewalk:--

“Well, it kinder strikes me Sadie Mitchell’s puttin’ on a good many
airs this mornin’, jest ’cause she’s got that country Jake in tow,” and
the young gentleman appeared aggrieved that more information had not
been given him.

“I didn’t want to stop an’ have a long talk,” Sadie said in a low tone,
when they were a short distance from Sim. “He’s terrible rough. Seems
as if he didn’t want to do anything but jest fight. First time he sees
another feller he always puts up his ‘props’ as he calls it, an’ I was
’fraid he might try it on you.”

“I don’t want to get into any row, ’cause this valise is as much as I
can take care of; but I tell you what it is, these city chaps mustn’t
try to pick on me jest on account of my comin’ from the country, for
I won’t stand it;” and the young gentleman from Berry’s Corner looked
very fierce, as if wishing his companion to believe him a dangerous
character.

Sadie was not at all alarmed by the belligerent attitude assumed by her
newly-found friend, and continued on her way in search of Tom and Bob,
much as though Josiah was a veritable lamb in disguise.

On the way down town the match-girl made inquiries of every
acquaintance she met, regarding the whereabouts of the boys she desired
to find, and received the same answer as given by Sim, except in one
instance.

A young gentleman in the boot-blackening business, by the name of Jimmy
Skip, informed her that he had seen the merchants in question entering
a certain building devoted to offices, on Chatham Street, and stated
that he had no doubt they were yet there serving their patrons.

When Sadie reached the place designated, she halted, and said to
Josiah:--

“Wait here, an’ I’ll look for ’em. There’s no need of your travelin’
’round so much while you’ve got that big valise.”

Josiah was perfectly willing to do as she suggested, and stood leaning
against the building with his burden at his feet, watching the
pedestrians, an occupation of which it seemed as if he would never
tire.



CHAPTER V.

A MEAN TRICK.


Master Shindle took no heed of the flight of time as he gazed around,
finding something to entertain or surprise in every animate or
inanimate object within his range of vision.

That which caused him the greatest astonishment, was the newsboys as
they crossed the street regardless of the horses which appeared at
every second on the point of trampling upon them; and when there were
no longer any of these young merchants to amuse him, he turned his
attention to the shop windows, where he was soon deeply interested in a
collection of fire-arms.

He had long wanted to own a revolver, and it seemed to him as if now
was the opportunity to purchase one, provided he received as much as
he thought he had every reason to expect from the woodchuck skins;
therefore it was with the air of an intended purchaser, rather than
an idler, that he scanned the cards, on which was written the price
affixed to each weapon.

He was still engrossed in this pleasing occupation, when Sadie’s
acquaintance, Sim Jones, approached, and halted suddenly on seeing him.

“There’s that duffer Sadie Mitchell had in tow! I wonder what he’s
doin’ here?” Master Jones muttered to himself, and then looked around
carefully, with a view of ascertaining whether Josiah had any friends
in the immediate vicinity.

There was no one near who seemed to take an interest in the country
boy, and Sim concluded it was a convenient season in which to settle
his debt with Sadie for not having given him more information regarding
her new acquaintance.

Therefore, stepping quickly to Josiah’s side, and assuming such a
look as he thought would impress the stranger with an idea of his
friendliness, Sim asked:--

“Say, have you found Tom Bartlett yet?”

“No; Sadie’s up-stairs now lookin’ for him. Some feller told her Tom
an’ Bob were here.”

Sim gave one quick glance in at the hall, and then said hurriedly:--

“When I saw you on West Broadway I forgot to ask Sadie if you’d been
over to the Mayor’s office, so I hustled right ’round to find you,
’cause you see girls don’t pay so much ’tention to sich things as they
oughter.”

“What things?” Josiah asked in astonishment.

“What things!” Sim repeated as if in surprise. “Do you mean to tell me
you didn’t know you oughter go to the Mayor’s office as soon as you got
inter town?”

“Of course I didn’t. What does he want with me?”

“A mighty sight, you’ll find out! I kinder thought Sadie Mitchell
wouldn’t know enough to tell you, so I went ’round to the City Hall an’
asked the folks if they’d seen a feller from Berry’s Corner. They said
‘no,’ an’ that the Mayor was pretty nigh wild ’cause you didn’t come to
him the minute you struck town.”

“What does he want me for?”

“Why ’cordin’ to the law he has to give every feller from the country a
dollar’n a half jest as soon as they get here, an’ if you don’t skin
over there mighty quick it’ll be too late.”

“Tom an’ Bob didn’t say anything about it when they was up to my house.”

“I s’pose they thought you knowed, or else was countin’ on takin’ you
there as soon as you got in; but of course it couldn’t be done when
they didn’t meet you. How would it do to run over with me? It won’t
take more’n a minute, an’ you’ll get back before Sadie Mitchell comes
down.”

Josiah hesitated an instant, and then decided there would be no harm in
accompanying this very friendly-disposed boy, more particularly since
he seemed certain they would be back in time to meet the match-girl,
therefore he replied:--

“All right; go ahead, only we mustn’t keep Sadie waitin’, ’cause it
won’t do for me to lose her before I find Tom an’ Bob.”

“Oh, I’ll look out for that part of it. Of course we sha’n’t miss her;
an’ if we should, I could find the fellers for you quicker’n she can.
It kinder makes a boy look green to be taggin’ a girl ’round the city,
an’ I’m certain Tom Bartlett wouldn’t like it if he found out what
you’re doin’.”

“It’s a good deal better’n not knowin’ where to go, ’cause if it hadn’t
been for her I’d had a pretty hard time last night, ’less I’d found
Baker’s Court.”

While they were talking, and paying no heed to the fact that Master
Jones was making sundry mysterious gestures to acquaintances whom they
passed, Josiah had followed the guide from Chatham Street to Center,
and not less than half a dozen disreputable looking boys were watching
his every movement with the keenest anticipations of pleasure.

On arriving at what Master Shindle thought was an enormous building,
because it was many sizes larger than his father’s barn, Sim halted,
and, pointing to the long flight of stairs leading from the street,
said:--

“Go straight up there ’till you get to the top. Then open the door, an’
tell the Mayor you’ve come for the dollar an’ a half.”

Josiah obeyed without hesitation, but on reaching the first landing his
suspicions were aroused.

Never having visited a City Hall before, his ideas regarding one were
rather vague; but he fancied the Mayor would be found in a different
kind of a place, and, despite his ignorance, the many business signs
in the hall-way soon convinced him he was not in a municipal building.

He hesitated, turned, and was on the point of asking for further
particulars from the obliging Sim, when he heard a roar of laughter
from the foot of the stairs.

“If the Mayor gives money to folks from the country, I reckon Tom an’
Bob would have told me last summer,” he said to himself. “That feller
is makin’ a fool of me.”

Then he descended to the sidewalk, and stood looking about him in
perplexity.

He had paid no particular attention to the route taken when he left
Chatham Street, and not many seconds elapsed before the very unpleasant
fact that he was lost presented itself.

During several moments Josiah stood silent and motionless, trying to
combat the fear which came upon him with the knowledge that he was
separated from his friends, and had no definite idea of where they
might be found.

The throng of pedestrians, each intent only on his own business or
pleasure, bewildered the boy, and the rattle and rumble of vehicles
served to increase his helplessness.

Surrounded though he was by human beings, never before had he felt so
truly alone.

Involuntarily his mind went back to the time when he lost his way in
the woods at Berry’s Corner; but there even the birds seemed friendly,
and sang and twittered about him as if to share his grief, while here
no one paid the slightest attention to his sorrow, save the group of
boys on the opposite side of the street, who were making merry at his
expense.

Now, even more than when he caught the last glimpse of Towser’s short
tail at the railroad station, he wished he had never been tempted to
leave the farm.

For the second time tears came very near his eyelids; but the sight of
his tormentors across the street served to hold them in check, for he
did not intend to allow those boys to know of the sorrow in his heart.

It was the feeling of resentment, that others should have taken
advantage of his helplessness, which aided him in controlling his
feelings, and he said resolutely as he walked toward Printing House
Square:--

“They know I’m green as grass; but they sha’n’t see me cry.”

Then turning toward the shop windows on the left in the hope of
seeing one which looked familiar and thus give him some idea of his
whereabouts, he pushed resolutely on until accosted by a second
stranger.

“Are you the Shindle feller Tom an’ Bob are lookin’ for?” the boy asked.

Josiah’s short experience in the city had taught him to be suspicious,
and he replied quite sharply:--

“Well, what if I am? Are you another feller what wants to send me to
the Mayor’s office?”

While speaking he glanced toward the opposite side of the street, and
there saw his enemies running at full speed as if the coming of this
last boy had alarmed them.

“I ain’t tryin’ to play any tricks,” the stranger replied in a friendly
tone. “Tom an’ Bob are huntin’ for you, an’ I offered to help. Sadie
Mitchell told ’em what was done last night, an’ when they come out of
the office they’re hired to clean every mornin’, you wasn’t anywhere
to be found. They’re pretty nigh wild to know what’s happened to you.”

“Why didn’t they meet me at the station?” Josiah asked suspiciously.

“They both went there, an’ staid more’n an hour after your train got
in. I happen to know, ’cause I was with ’em.”

“Mighty funny,” Josiah said half to himself. “I hung ’round the place
two hours, an’ didn’t see hide nor hair of either one.”

“It must be you didn’t get into the right station, ’cause we watched
so’s you couldn’t get past, no matter which door you came through.”

“Why, I went right out into the street after I got tired standin’ on
the platform.”

The stranger was silent an instant as he tried to reconcile this story
with his own knowledge of the facts, and then the truth suddenly dawned
upon him.

“It must have been that you didn’t strike the station at all, but stood
in the train-sheds till you went to Jersey City, instead of comin’
’cross the ferry.”

“That’s jest what I did.”

“Then the thing is plain enough. You see, folks ain’t allowed on
platforms where the cars stop, an’ so we had to wait near the
ferry-slip. If you’d followed the other passengers it would have been
all right.”

“Then Tom an’ Bob really was there?”

“Of course, an’ we couldn’t figger out why you didn’t come, ’less
somethin’ happened so’s you had to stay at home a day longer than was
’greed on. Now, if you’ll go with me, it won’t take more’n half a
minute to find the other fellers.”

This boy spoke in a very friendly tone, and appeared to be thoroughly
conversant with the matter; but at the same time it was possible he
might be one of the party who had been having so much sport at the
country visitor’s expense.

Josiah feared the joke would be continued; but the thought came into
his mind that his condition could hardly be made worse, and he replied
promptly:--

“See here, I’ve jest come from Berry’s Corner, an’ never was in the
city before, so don’t play tricks on me ’cause I’m green.”

“You needn’t be afraid. I’ve heard what your folks did for Tom’s crowd;
an’ if that gang over there try any funny business, I’ll thump the head
offer every one before night.”

“I ain’t sure as it’s best to do that,” Josiah replied hastily, “though
I _should_ like to get even with the feller what told me ’bout the
Mayor.”

“I’ll give you a chance before long,” the stranger said generously.
“Come with me: my name’s Bill Foss, an’ when we’ve found Tom an’ Bob
we’ll clean out that gang. They’re puttin’ on too many airs ’round
here.”

The boy turned as he spoke, and Josiah followed him, but feeling a
trifle uncertain whether it would be advisable for his friends to
punish the enemy very severely, because his visit was not yet ended,
and he might some day find himself in a more unpleasant predicament.

“I’m a friend of Tom’s,” the guide said, as he slackened his pace to
admit of Josiah’s walking by his side. “I guess Sim Jones an’ the crowd
what played the trick on you know too much to fool ’round where I am.”

Master Foss spoke so confidently that all Josiah’s fears fled; and
when they arrived at the building where Sadie left him, he had perfect
faith in Bill’s integrity.

“Tom’s gone over to Chatham Square lookin’ for this feller, an’ Bob’s
down to the elevated station, so you’d better stand right here till
they get back,” a friend of Billy’s, who had been left on guard, said,
as he hurried away to attend to his own business now his mission was
accomplished.

In order that the time might pass pleasantly to the stranger in the
city, Bill explained how he once punished a portion of that same crowd
who had just played the practical joke, and while he was in the midst
of the story Messrs. Bartlett and Green arrived.

Josiah had no reason to complain of the warmth of their greeting.

Each seemed to think it necessary to shake him vigorously by the hand,
scrutinizing his face closely meanwhile, as if to make sure this was
the same boy who had been met at Berry’s Corner.

Then Josiah related his experience of the past twenty-four hours; and
when he had concluded, Tom gave an explanation similar to the one made
by Bill, regarding their failure to meet him as agreed upon.

Josiah could not fail to be satisfied that his friends had kept their
promise to the letter, and that it was his ignorance rather than their
neglect which prevented a meeting at the proper time and the proper
place.

“Where’s Sadie?” he asked, suddenly remembering that she should have
been with the party.

“Up on the Bowery somewhere,” Tom explained. “It’s time for her to
’tend to business, an’ she ’lowed she’d better leave, ’cause we
wouldn’t want a girl hangin’ ’round.”

“But we would;” and Master Shindle spoke very decidedly. “She’s been
mighty good to me, an’ I want to tell her I won’t forget it.”

“You’ll have plenty of chance to do that. Just now we’ve got to go
right up to the house an’ straighten things out. When you didn’t come
yesterday, mother thought you wouldn’t be here at all, an’ we must tell
her how it happened.”

“Besides, you don’t want to lug that valise ’round town,” Bob added,
“’cause we’re goin’ to put you through this city in great shape, an’
can’t be bothered with a lot of baggage.”

Although the boys appeared so eager to go home, it was fully ten
minutes before Josiah could answer all the questions asked by them.

They wanted to know how the calf had thriven since their visit to the
farm, inquired particularly concerning Towser, and were eager to learn
what would be the prospect for a good crop of turtles next spring.

When Master Shindle had satisfied their curiosity regarding every
animal on the farm, Tom asked with mild solicitude after Mr. and Mrs.
Shindle.

The visitor was also called upon to tell how many days he had spent
weeding carrots, if the harvest had been plentiful, and whether
woodchucks allowed themselves to be killed as readily as Josiah had
intimated during the previous summer.

Then he in turn learned all that could be told in a brief way regarding
the twins and Jimmy, and the benefit resulting from their visit to
Berry’s Corner.

“It seems like as if they’d kept right on growin’ fat jest thinkin’
of the farm,” Tom said. “Bob an’ me promised they should go out agin
before the cold weather came, but business was dull, an’ we couldn’t
scrape up cash enough to pay the fares. We’re comin’ next summer,
though. How many woodchucks did you kill?”

“Four; an’ thousands of ’em showed up after you fellers went away, but
me an’ Towser didn’t have time to get many. It was awful hard work to
tan the skins. Say, where do you s’pose I could sell ’em? I kinder
’lowed to buy mother an’ father a present with what I got for the fur,
an’ spent so much last night I don’t know but it’ll take all I’ve got
to see me through. It’s dreadful expensive goin’ ’round the city, ain’t
it?”

“I reckon you can sell ’em at the fur stores on Broadway,” Tom replied.
“The folks there buy all kind of sich things, an’ we’ll see ’em
to-morrow. I s’pose you count on gettin’ a pretty good price?”

“I’d be willin’ to take a dollar apiece, if they couldn’t pay any more;
but these are awful big skins. It seems as if the lot oughter fetch
five dollars anyhow.”

Neither of the young gentlemen from Baker’s Court was very well
informed as to the value of fur; and since they had never seen a
woodchuck, no idea of the market-price could be formed.

However, both were positive such pelts would sell readily, and with
this assurance Josiah was content.



CHAPTER VI.

A THEATRE PARTY.


Again Tom remembered that it was necessary his mother should be
informed of the long-expected visitor’s arrival, and he said
impatiently:--

“Come on, let’s go to the house now, or the folks will think you ain’t
comin’.”

Bill Foss was obliged to attend to his regular business, and left the
party as they started up town.

While the boys walked hurriedly on in the direction of Baker’s Court,
Josiah was suddenly reminded of a very important duty, and exclaimed as
he halted in a convenient door-way:--

“Well, there! I most forgot I had some things in this valise for you
fellers!”

The curiosity of the boys was aroused, and Tom asked excitedly:--

“What did you bring? Let’s look at ’em now, ’cause it’ll be a good
while before we get home.”

Master Shindle saw no impropriety in unpacking his baggage thus
publicly, and, without further urging, opened the huge valise.

“Here’s what I brought you,” he said, handing Tom a package wrapped in
newspaper, and tied securely with several strings.

Tom unrolled the bulky parcel, removing layer after layer of paper
until he brought to view a small but very lively mud turtle, which
protruded its head and legs in the most engaging manner.

“Now, that’s the kind of a feller what’ll foller you ’round the
streets,” Josiah said as he held up the shell that his companions might
observe more closely the reptile’s beautiful proportions. “Tame him
right, an’ I guess he’ll be most as good as a dog, though he can’t go
very fast.”

As Tom took the pet, Josiah again plunged his hand into the valise,
this time bringing forth a small wooden box, which he gave to Bob as he
said:--

“I was goin’ to fetch two; but didn’t dare to put em together, an’
there wasn’t room enough in the valise for another box.”

[Illustration]

Opening the lid Bob saw a small green snake, which lifted its head and
gazed around inquiringly, as if asking why it had been thus suddenly
transported from its home to a place where there was no opportunity of
hiding.

Bob thanked his friend for the gift, but looked so longingly toward the
turtle that Master Shindle hastened to say:--

“If you’d rather have one of them I can catch more’n a thousand when I
get home agin; but seein’s how they’re apt to bite babies, an’ you’ve
got the twins an’ Jimmy ’round, I didn’t know as it would do to fetch
two.”

“If you’ll send ’em down, I’ll pay the freight,” Bob replied; and
Josiah promised that on the day following his return home he would
capture as many turtles as his friends might desire.

Then he displayed the gifts intended for the twins and Jimmy,--two
last-year’s bird’s nests, a large supply of horse-hair as materials for
rings and chains, and a collection of hedge-hog quills which his mother
had dyed in various colors.

After these had been inspected and duly admired, the boys continued on
their way to the court, walking very slowly because of Josiah’s desire
to stop and look at everything around him.

More than once his exclamations of surprise attracted a crowd of
newsboys and boot-blacks; but Tom and Bob were careful to prevent him
from being annoyed by these young gentlemen, who considered a stranger
from the country a fair target for their supposed wit, and Josiah
continued slowly on, ignorant of the fact that he was affording others
quite as much amusement as he received from the novel scenes.

Under ordinary circumstances, Tom and Bob could have walked from
Chatham Square to their home in ten minutes; but on this day it was
fully an hour before they arrived at the court, although both hurried
Josiah as much as possible by promising to show him all these things
and many more, later in the day.

On entering the court Master Shindle looked about him in dismay; and
Bob, quick to note the change in the expression of his friend’s face,
said with a laugh:--

“Doesn’t seem much like the farm, eh? I told you one week in a place
like this would be enough. If you had always lived here, it wouldn’t
look so dirty; but you’d be as wild as we were to see the country.”

“Oh, this is nice,” Josiah said quickly, fearing lest his friends might
think he was making invidious comparisons; and just then the twins and
Jimmy came running up to greet their host of the previous summer, thus
bringing to a speedy conclusion what might have been a very awkward
conversation.

The dilapidated houses, and the clothes hanging on lines from one side
of the court to the other, as if to shut out the light of the sun, gave
to Josiah a feeling of homesickness similar to that which he had felt
when catching a last glimpse of Towser.

To remain on the principal streets where he could look in the shop
windows, or on the waterfront and gaze at the vessels, would have been
pleasant; but there was such a wide difference between the buildings of
Baker’s Court and the Shindle farm-house, that he would have been quite
contented had he known his father was coming after him that same day.

Mrs. Bartlett and Mrs. Green received him cordially, and yet he was far
from being comfortable in mind.

The small, stuffy kitchen was not like his mother’s, and he could
hardly believe food coming from it would taste as sweet.

The room which he was to share with Bob and Tom was far from being as
inviting as his own; and the air, although it was late in the season,
seemed oppressively warm.

Very likely Tom and Bob would have made almost the same comparisons in
favor of the farm; but Josiah tried earnestly to prevent any show of
discontent, and, after doing full justice to the lunch hastily prepared
by Mrs. Bartlett, the boys went into the street once more, leaving
behind the twins and Jimmy to play with the hedgehog quills at imminent
risk of injuring their eyes, or making painful punctures in their skin.

Once in the business portion of the city again, there was so much to
attract Josiah’s attention that he entirely forgot the disagreeable
impressions of the court; and the three flitted about from window
to window to the delight of Master Shindle and the perplexity of
his hosts, who found it extremely difficult to keep at a respectful
distance the numerous acquaintances who followed in the hope of having
some sport at the expense of the boy from the country.

“That is great!” he said when Tom and Bob gave in detail the programme
they had arranged for his entertainment.

The party was to visit Coney Island, the park, and, as a rare treat, it
had been decided to spend that very evening at the theatre, to which
end three gallery tickets had already been purchased.

This last announcement excited Josiah for the moment so that he lost
all interest in the novel sights around him.

He had heard of the theatre; for Sam Perry knew a boy living about
seven miles from Berry’s Corner who had really been inside such
a place, and Josiah was willing to confess that no other form of
entertainment could afford him so many pleasurable anticipations.

The sight-seeing, and the promise of the delightful excitement which
was yet to come, did not prevent Josiah from remembering the first
friend he had made in the city, and he asked anxiously:--

“Is Sadie goin’ with us?”

“Of course not. We don’t want a girl taggin’ ’round, an’ I reckon she
wouldn’t care to go very much.”

“Oh, yes she would, ’cause she thought it was awful nice at the circus.”

“Circus!” Bob repeated in surprise. “Where have you seen one?”

“She an’ I went the evenin’ I was tryin’ to find you. It’s down a
little ways from where she sells matches.”

“Oh, that’s the dime museum, an’ don’t ’mount to much longside of one
up on the Bowery. We can go to them kind of places any day;” and Master
Green spoke as if half the marvels of the earth were gathered at this
particular place, but yet were hardly worth the attention of himself
and his friends.

“But I’d like to see her again. She was mighty good to me.”

“There’ll be plenty of chances for that when we have nothin’ else to
do. We’ll skin up ’round Broadway, an’ then go home, for it’ll be
pretty near supper time when we get there.”

“Well, I don’t want to make any mistake about seein’ her agin, ’cause I
ain’t really squared up for the way she treated me; an’, besides, I’d
like to be certain she’s havin’ as good a time as I am, for, ’cordin’
to the looks of things, she gets it pretty tough.”

“That’s a fact,” Bob replied. “It must come kinder hard on anybody what
has to live with Mother Hunter; but I reckon she’s got used to it.
Anyhow, you shall see her to-morrow if that’ll do any good.”

“An’ will you take her with us to some of the places if I pay the
bills?”

“Yes,” Bob replied slowly, but in a tone of indecision, “I s’pose we
can fix it somehow;” and with this rather unwilling promise the subject
was dropped for the time being.

It was so difficult to tear Master Shindle away from the shop windows
that the evening meal had been ready nearly an hour when they finally
arrived at Baker’s Court.

In the stuffy little kitchen, which also served as a dining-room,
Josiah had once more an opportunity of comparing his home with this,
and for at least the tenth time decided that life in the city was
entirely different from what it had been pictured by some of his
acquaintances at Berry’s Corner.

Instead of an accompaniment to the meal by a bird orchestra, they
had the rumble and clatter of carts in the street; in lieu of the
perfume of flowers which swept through his mother’s quaint kitchen,
was an unpleasant odor from the court, and he ceased to wonder that
the beneficiaries of the Fresh Air Fund found the farm such a pleasant
abiding place.

There was but little opportunity for reflection on this subject,
however. The meal was eaten hurriedly that they might arrive at the
place of entertainment before the doors were opened, in order to make
certain of obtaining front seats, therefore not a moment was wasted.

Josiah’s remembrance of this visit is not altogether pleasant.

During fully three-quarters of an hour he stood with a large number of
boys in the narrow hall-way, pushed here and there until it seemed as
if he must be literally flattened like a wafer.

When the doors were finally opened he was borne by very press
of numbers up three flights of dimly-lighted stairs into a not
over-cleanly place, which was considerably warmer than the carrot patch
in July; then down a steep incline until it seemed as if he would
surely be pitched from the railing to the vast pit, the bottom of which
appeared to be paved with human heads.

The theatre party from Baker’s Court was in the front row, with nothing
to obstruct the view of a gaudily-painted piece of canvas, which
covered--Josiah knew not what.

He did not speculate as to the possible wonders which might be behind
it; for the noisy throng, the heated air, the odor of gas, and the loud
buzz of conversation bewildered him to such an extent that he began to
fear he should not be able to get away alive.

On one side Tom was telling of the wonderful things which would be
revealed when the curtain was raised; and on the other Bob praised
the scenery, or the daring of the hero whose brave deeds were to be
portrayed, while Josiah listened without understanding a single word.

Then, after much stamping of feet, whistling and cat-calls, came a
burst of music, and the visitor from the country began to feel more at
his ease.

With elbows resting on the wooden railing, and both hands held behind
his ears that not a single note from the noisy orchestra should escape,
he gave himself up wholly to what he supposed was the performance,
wondering not a little why Tom and Bob had said so much about
hair-breadth escapes, when he could see nothing more dangerous than the
brass instrument which a musician lengthened and shortened until there
seemed every fear he would decapitate his neighbor.

“Is he goin’ to kill the man next to him with that brass thing?” Josiah
asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Of course not,” Bob replied scornfully; “that is only one of the
orchestry, an’ don’t ’mount to anything. Wait ’till the curtain goes
up, an’ then your eyes’ll stick out!”

Josiah waited simply because he was forced to do so; and when the
performance began, exclamations of surprise and astonishment burst
from his lips, as what appeared to be a veritable forest was suddenly
unfolded to view.

During the three hours which followed he remained in a daze of wonder,
fear, and bewilderment.

He could not understand why at one time there was a forest behind the
curtain, and at another the interior of a house, therefore this sudden
change confused him.

It was impossible to hear every word spoken on the stage, and,
consequently, he failed to comprehend why people ran around discharging
fire-arms so frequently.

Owing to these drawbacks the performance was not as pleasing as it
might have been, while the heat, lack of ventilation, and the general
excitement, gave him a most severe headache.

Therefore, instead of regretting that the evening’s entertainment had
come to an end, as did Tom and Bob, he was only too well satisfied to
be in the comparatively fresh air once more.

“To-morrow mornin’ we’ll go up to the park,” Tom said as they walked
rapidly toward Baker’s Court; for he fancied, because of his friend’s
silence, that the boy from the country was having another attack of
homesickness.

This supposition was correct; and when Josiah was in the tiny chamber
he would have been perfectly willing to bring his visit to an immediate
close, if by such a means he could be transported instantly to his own
room, where his mother would be within call.



CHAPTER VII.

A MIDNIGHT ALARM.


The labor of sight-seeing had so wearied Josiah that his eyes closed
very quickly after getting into bed, despite the unpleasantness of his
surroundings; and he did not return from dreamland until at an early
hour next morning, when the sudden clash of heavy wheels, the clang of
gongs, and the hoarse rush of escaping steam, brought him from the bed
to his feet trembling with undefined fear.

“Hurry up and get into your clothes!” Tom cried. “There’s a fire, an’
it sounds as if it was right here in the court.”

Josiah’s only experience in such matters had been when Deacon Fuller’s
barn burned, and he and his father watched it, unable to do anything
toward fighting the flames because of lack of water.

Therefore he was thoroughly alarmed, believing Tom’s home would be
destroyed, and these fears caused him to be awkward in making his
toilet.

At first he could not find his clothes; and when this had been finally
accomplished, it seemed impossible to get them on. After what appeared
to be a very long while he succeeded in dressing himself, and, seizing
the heavy valise, followed Bob and Tom, who had already begun to
descend the stairs.

The heavy panting of the engines, the firemen’s hoarse commands, and
the running to and fro of people who were pouring from the tenements of
the court, made a most terrific din.

Here and there great fiery eyes stared out of the darkness, causing
those who passed in front of them to look like shadowy giants, while
the network of hose extending in every direction, and from which tiny
streams of water were spurting, formed for the country boy a picture
which was not less alarming than bewildering.

“The fire’s on the other side of the street,” Tom said a moment later,
“an’ I guess there ain’t any chance the court will be burned, but it
makes a good show if you never saw such a thing in the city before.”

Josiah looked in vain for the flames.

The glowing furnaces of the engines seemed to him more dangerous than
any hidden conflagration could possibly be; and in fear and trembling
he stood behind his companions, pressing close against the wall of a
building, until Tom chanced to see the heavy burden he was carrying.

“What did you bring that valise for?” he asked, laughing heartily.

“I’d rather have it in my hands if the house is goin’ to be burned,”
Josiah replied timidly; and then, after no little urging, Tom succeeded
in inducing him to give up the valuable baggage that he might carry it
back, while Bob, with a bravery which the boy from the country thought
foolhardiness, made his way among the panting engines in order to show
his guest the method of fighting fire in the city.

It was not such an investigation as pleased Josiah, this going to
and fro among the monsters which swayed back and forth under the
pressure of steam as if about to explode, and being treated to frequent
shower-baths from the leaking hose, or almost overturned as the busy
firemen rushed past.

Even before Tom returned he persuaded Bob to go back to the court where
they might at least be in a place of comparative safety.

During half an hour he remained gazing at the building which was
supposed to be food for the flames, and then the din lessened.

One by one the heavy, noisy machines were drawn away, the serpent-like
lengths of hose were rolled on the carriages, and when Tom announced
that the fire was extinguished, Josiah was even more mystified than
before.

“That’s the funniest kind of a fire I ever saw,” he said as they
returned to their room, debating whether it would be best to retire
once more, or dress themselves for the day’s pleasuring, for the
shadows of night had already given way before the coming dawn. “At
Berry’s Corner people have to carry water in buckets.”

“It ain’t very often you have a chance to see a fire in the city,
’cause the engines get to work so quick,” Bob explained; and then he
told of a conflagration near the docks which he and Bob had seen,
until by the time the story was finished Mrs. Bartlett called them to
breakfast.

After the meal was brought to a close, Josiah wished to visit Chatham
Square in the hope of seeing Sadie; but Tom and Bob decided against
anything of the kind.

They had planned to spend this day in Central Park; and, despite
Josiah’s desire to meet the girl who had been so kind to him, he
was obliged to accompany his friends, or be guilty of rudeness by
questioning their judgment in preparing a programme which was intended
for his especial benefit.

“You see, it don’t look very nice to be runnin’ ’round with a girl, an’
the fellers will make all kind of fun of you,” Bob said in a fatherly
tone. “Of course, if we’re anywhere near Chatham Square it’s no harm to
go an’ talk with her; but this pullin’ Sadie along with us everywhere
ain’t the right way at all. Things are different in the city, you know,
from what they are in the country.”

“Yes, I know,” Josiah replied mildly; “but you see she was so awful
good to me when I lost my way an’ was feelin’ bad, that it don’t seem
as if I could do too much to square things up with her. It ain’t
likely she gets a chance to go off on such times very often.”

“I don’t reckon she does,” Tom replied; “but she can’t count on stayin’
with us, ’cause it would spoil all the fun to begin with, an’ then
agin, no feller could help laughin’ if he saw her with us. We wanter go
by ourselves, an’ do the thing up in style, that’s what we’re after.”

“I won’t talk any more about it now,” Josiah said; “but I’ve got to see
her again before I go home.”

“There’ll be plenty of chance for that. She’s allers up there sellin’
matches. When we haven’t got anything better to do, Bob an’ I’ll go
with you. Now come on, ’cause we wanter scoop in all we can.”

Josiah followed his friends out of the dirty court into the noisy
street, and down to the Sixth Avenue elevated railway station, where he
clambered up the stairs with no slight degree of trepidation, for this
“goin’ on the roof to find a train of cars” was something so novel in
his experience as to be almost alarming.

First he feared the stair-way was not sufficiently strong to bear in
safety all the people crowded upon it, and then he began to feel quite
positive the small pillars which upheld the tracks would be crushed
beneath the weight of the train.

Tom and Bob enjoyed his nervousness.

Previous to this time they had failed to show their guest anything
which impressed him quite as much as they desired; but now their
efforts were crowned with success, and it was in the highest degree
satisfactory to them.

“I would have been willin’ to pay ten cents rather than not seen him
fidget ’round as he’s doin’ now,” Tom whispered to Bob as Josiah,
standing near the news-counter, shrank back from the edge of the
platform lest he should be thrown into the street by the throng of
passengers around him.

Josiah managed to hide his fears after a few moments, greatly to the
disappointment of his friends; and when he entered the cars there was
no thought of the match-girl, for this being able to look in at the
second or third story windows of the buildings which they passed was
something so strange that there was no room in his mind for anything
else.

“I’ll bet Tim Berry’s eyes will stick out when I tell him of this
ride,” he said in a confidential whisper to his friends. “He never saw
anything like steam-cars runnin’ in the air, an’ jest as likely as not
won’t be willin’ to believe what I tell him.”

“This ain’t nothin’ at all to what you’d see if you went up Harlem
way,” Bob replied. “Why, there the tracks are higher from the ground
than the top of that steeple, an’ it looks like as if the cars would
tumble right off when she swings ’round a curve.”

“Ain’t we goin’ there?” Josiah asked.

“I don’t reckon it would pay. You know we wanter put in all the time we
can in the park; but we’ll see how things turn out after we’re ready to
go home.”

Josiah was really sorry when Tom whispered that they were to leave
the cars at the next station; for it seemed to him that he would be
satisfied to do nothing else all day but “ride in the air,” as it
appeared they were now doing.

On descending to the street once more, Bob began the pleasuring by
purchasing a pint of peanuts; and, contentedly munching them, the
three entered the park.

Here, to the disappointment of his hosts, Master Shindle evinced
neither surprise nor delight at what he saw.

“Don’t you think it’s great, up here?” Bob asked, after they had walked
a long distance in almost perfect silence, save for the crunching of
nut-shells as they extracted the meat.

“Yes, oh yes,” Josiah replied. “It’s good enough for a field, I s’pose;
but it seems to me they’d make more money to put it in crops, than lay
all this land down to grass, an’ I notice they don’t pick the rocks
out. Now, if there was as big a ledge in our mowin’ field as that,
father’d have had it blasted in less’n no time.”

“But they don’t run a farm here, you know. This is only for the folks
to look at,” Bob explained.

“And do people travel out here jest to see a mowin’ field?”

“Yes, with all the other things.”

“Well, they oughter go to Berry’s Corner, an’ see Deacon Jones’ meadow;
a hundred acres, an’ not a rock on it; jest as smooth as a floor. He
wouldn’t have these bushes on his place no more’n he’d fly.”

It was not until they had arrived at the lake, and he saw the marble
bridge and the playgrounds, that Josiah condescended to be more than
mildly interested in the surroundings.

Then he was willing to admit that this might be more beautiful than
“Deacon Jones’ meadow,” and Bob began to have great hopes of surprising
him before the visit had come to an end.

“Jest wait till we get down where the animals are! That’s what’ll knock
your eye out!”

As a matter of course the party indulged in a boat-ride, and after
making a complete circuit of the lake three times, were ready to “take
in” the zoölogical collection.

Josiah was not willing to move quite as rapidly as his friends desired.

He was deeply interested in the throngs of people around him in holiday
attire, and found quite as much to amuse in the ever-changing scene
near the boat-landing as he had in front of the shop windows, while Bob
and Tom thought only of reaching the monkey-house that they might enjoy
the antics of those animals.

“Come on! It’s foolish wastin’ so much time here when there’s lots
more to be seen,” Bob said impatiently. “I thought we’d better strike
this place first, an’ then we could stay as long as we wanted with the
animals.”

“I’m comin’,” Josiah replied, and during two or three moments he
remained close behind his friends; but then, as the oddest kind of
a vehicle, which he fancied was a stage-coach, drove past with four
horses, a remarkably well-dressed driver, and a man on top who played
on a long horn, he forgot the necessity of keeping very near his guides.

Now, while neither Bob nor Tom had seen so many tally-ho coaches as
to treat them with indifference, this one was not so very remarkable
as to cause any surprise or comment on their part; and they continued
on rapidly, heeding not the fact that Josiah was still standing in
open-mouthed astonishment, gazing after the swell equipage.

It was quite as easy for him to lose his guides in the park as on the
city streets; and Josiah was very soon made aware of this, for when the
coach was lost to view in the distance he started on in the direction
he believed had been taken by his companions, but it was not possible
to see them even after five minutes of rapid traveling.

“Well, I’m lost again,” the boy from Berry’s Corner exclaimed, as he
came to a full halt. “It seems to me that’s about all I’m doin’ in
this town; but I won’t make a chump of myself by walkin’ alone. I’ll
wait right here till they come,” and he seated himself on a convenient
bench, resolving to remain there as long as might be necessary.

Time did not hang heavily on his hands, owing to the vehicles which
were constantly passing, thus affording him ample amusement; and it
would have been impossible for him to say whether one minute or twenty
had elapsed since he lost sight of his friends, when a boy, apparently
several years older than himself, came toward him in an officious
manner, rattling half a dozen pennies in his hands as he said sharply:--

“Well, come down with the stuff. I can’t wait ’round here all day,
’cause there are too many other fellers to watch for.”

“You needn’t stay a single minute on my account,” Josiah replied,
determined not to allow himself to be deceived again, as in the case
of the supposedly necessary visit to the mayor.

“Oh, don’t be funny! Come down with the stuff!”

“Look here, what’s the matter with you?” Josiah asked impatiently.
“What do you want, any way?”

“You don’t b’long in this city, do you?” the boy asked sharply.

“Of course I don’t.”

“Well, then, what are you doin’ up here?”

“Jest come to look ’round with Tom an’ Bob.”

“Do they live in town?”

“Of course. Down in Baker’s Court.”

“Have you got your ticket?”

“What ticket?”

“To see the park, of course. Did you pay anything when you came in
here?”

“Bob paid for the peanuts, an’ I whacked up for the boat-rides.”

“There, now you’re gettin’ funny agin! You know what I want! Come, down
with it; ten cents, an’ do it quick too!”

“Ten cents for what?” and now Josiah began to think this boy really
had some right to address him in such a tone.

“For lookin’ at the Park.”

“But Tom an’ Bob invited me up here with them.”

“I can’t help that. It costs ten cents to come in, an’ that’s all there
is to it. You wanter pay quick, or you’ll get inter trouble.”

“But they didn’t tell me anything ’bout it.”

“They live in town. It don’t cost them anything; but all fellers from
the country have to pay.”

Josiah looked around eagerly in the hope that his friends might be in
the immediate vicinity; but in this he was disappointed.

He could see no one whom he thought he might venture to ask for
information, and the boy who claimed the right to collect money for
sight-seeing was growing more and more impatient each instant.

“I’d rather wait till they come back.”

“Well, you can’t. I’ve got to go all the way ’round the lake in an
hour, an’ if I have such trouble with every feller as I do with you,
it’ll take me a week to fix things.”

The boy was standing directly in front of Josiah by this time, and
looked so threatening that the visitor from Berry’s Corner did not dare
to prolong the interview.

It was with the greatest reluctance that he drew from his small hoard a
dime, and, holding it between his thumb and finger as if unwilling to
part with it, asked:--

“What do I get when I give you this?”

“Get? Why you have the chance of seein’ all there is here. What more do
you want?” and without further ceremony the alleged collector took the
money from Josiah’s fingers, walking rapidly away.

“Look here!” the latter shouted. “S’pose’n somebody else comes ’round
collectin’ ten-cent pieces, how’ll they know I’ve paid?”

“That’ll be all right. I’m the only one at this end of the park,”
and the boy hurried away as if fearing some of the pedestrians might
inquire the meaning of this rather odd question.

“Well, it strikes me I’m goin’ it pretty stiff. It cost me fifteen
cents in them boats, an’ now ten more’s twenty-five. If we’re goin’ to
stay all day I sha’n’t have any money left when I get home,” Josiah
said ruefully, and just at that instant a cry from the opposite side of
the driveway caused him to spring to his feet.

“Why didn’t you keep close to us?” Bob asked with just a shade of
petulance in his tones. “If you go to gettin’ lost this way we sha’n’t
have any kind of a time, ’cause the whole day’ll be spent huntin’ for
you.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Josiah replied penitently; “but while I was lookin’
at the stage you fellers got away. Say, why didn’t you tell me it cost
ten cents to see this park?”

“Ten cents to see this park?” Bob repeated in bewilderment.

“Yes; that’s what I jest had to pay.”

“Who asked you for it?” and now both the young gentlemen from Baker’s
Court ran quickly to the side of their friend.

Josiah related the interview which he had had with the alleged
collector, and when he concluded Bob and Tom burst into a fit of
laughter.

“Well, you are too green to live,” Bob said as soon as it was possible
for him to speak. “The idea of givin’ up good money to any feller what
comes along askin’ for it!”

“But I had to. He was goin’ to make me.”

“Make nothin’! He’d been mighty careful to get away if you’d raised a
row. But say, it won’t do for him to go off with that ten cents. Let’s
hunt after him!”

Tom was quite as anxious to search for the boy who had robbed their
friend; and, under the guidance of Josiah, the three started.

“Are you sure you’ll know him?” Bob asked.

“Indeed I will; but say, fellers, I don’t want to get into any row here
jest ’cause of that money. I’d rather give twice as much than have a
fuss.”

“There won’t be any trouble. He’ll come down with the stuff as soon
as we get hold of him,” Tom replied confidently; and an instant later
Josiah cried, as he pointed toward a group of boys standing near a
statue:--

“There he is! That feller with the stick in his hand! He’s the one!”

It hardly seemed advisable for the three to attempt any reprisals just
at this instant.

The alleged collector had with him six other boys, who were evidently
friends, and there was little question but that the effort to force him
to give up his ill-gotten gains would end disastrously for the smaller
party.

“It won’t do to tackle him yet a while,” Bob said, after mentally
taking the measurements of the boy and his friends. “We’ll have to wait
a spell, ’cause there’s too many of ’em.”

“By holdin’ back we may never get a chance. Jest as likely’s not
they’ll stick together till they go home,” Tom replied.

“But you’d he makin’ fools of yourselves to start in now,” Josiah
suggested. “Wait till one of them men in the soldier clothes comes
along. Then go right up an’ ask for the dime. He won’t dare to keep it.”

This seemed to be a very good idea; and Bob was willing to act upon it
provided it would not be necessary to wait too many moments, for time
was of more value just then, in his opinion, than the money which had
been extorted from Josiah.

Fortunately they were not delayed a great while, for Bob had hardly
hidden himself behind a clump of shrubbery, before two of the park
guards were seen approaching from either end of the street; and he
called Tom’s attention to the fact by saying:--

“Come on! Now’s our time, an’ we don’t want the policemen to hear if we
can help it, ’cause they’ll make us stay as witnesses.”

“Go ahead, an’ I’ll stand right at your back. Give it to him good and
strong.”

This advice was not necessary, for Bob was so thoroughly in earnest
that he had no idea of “giving it” to him in any other way than
“strong.”

The boy who had wrongfully collected Josiah’s dime saw the three
as they crossed the street toward him, and, as a matter of course,
recognized his victim. He turned as if to beat a hasty retreat, but,
seeing the officer, wheeled once more, only to face a second guard, and
then stood at bay.

“Look here, young feller, you pulled ten cents outer my friend, an’ I
want you to give it back to him mighty quick,” Bob said sternly.

“Oh, you do, eh? S’pose you try to make me.”

“I ’low it wouldn’t be sich a terrible big job, anyhow; but I’ve got
other business on hand jest now, an’ I’m reckonin’ you’ll give it up
rather’n have me tell a policeman.”

For an instant it seemed as if the boy meditated resistance; and then
he must have realized how useless such a course would be, for he
delivered the money to Bob, as he started at full speed across the
lawn, regardless of the warning signs to “keep off the grass,” striking
Josiah a heavy blow on the side of the head as he departed.

“Here, take your dime! I’ll thump the nose offer that feller!” Bob
cried angrily, as he handed the money to Josiah, and was on the point
of pursuing the enemy, when Tom caught him by the arm.

“Now, don’t go to makin’ a fool of yourself, ’cause they’ll have you in
the station-house quicker’n lightnin’ if you try anything like that!
Better let him go, an’ say no more ’bout it.”

“But what did he hit Josiah for? I ain’t goin’ to stand still an’ let
him thump my visitors.”

“You can’t help yourself, now it’s done. It’s only a case of gettin’
inter trouble if you keep on this way,” Tom said sharply, and Josiah
added:--

“Don’t pay any attention to him, Bob. It didn’t hurt me so very much,
an’ I oughter got it worse’n that for bein’ so mighty green.”

It was with difficulty that Master Green restrained his anger, and
perhaps he might not have been able to do so but for the fact that Tom
reminded him they were wasting time which should be spent viewing the
animals; therefore he contented himself by saying threateningly:--

“I’ll lay for that feller. Jest as likely’s not we’ll catch him down
town sometime, an’ then he’ll find out whether he can come ’round
stealin’ money, an’ knocking the heads offer fellers without gettin’ as
good as he sends, or not.”

“That’s the style! Wait till we get him on our own ground, an’ then pay
him up. Now come on; we’ve fooled more’n an hour away, an’ before you
know what’s what it’ll be time to go home.”

Then, without waiting to parley further, Tom started off in the
direction of the zoölogical collection, and his companions could do no
less than follow.



CHAPTER VIII.

THE ZOÖLOGICAL COLLECTION.


Even if the bogus collector of admissions to Central Park had dealt
him a much heavier blow than really was the case, Josiah would have
forgotten about the injury entirely, in the amazement and delight with
which he viewed the inmates of the monkey-cage.

Never but once before had he seen any of these long-tailed animals; and
that single occasion was when an organ-grinder, with such a companion,
visited Berry’s Corner, to the intense delight of the younger portion
of the population, and the annoyance of their elders.

But that monkey, held by a chain, and buckled into a coat so small that
he could hardly breathe, was an entirely different sort of an animal
from those who were revelling in the semi-freedom of the cage; and it
seemed to Josiah as if he would never weary of looking at them.

With a reckless disregard of the amount of money on hand, and an
utter forgetfulness of the presents which he wished to carry home to
his parents, Josiah purchased peanuts and cookies for the purpose of
feeding the occupants of the monkey-house, until there was every danger
his supply of ready cash would be entirely exhausted.

What seemed to him quite remarkable was the fact that so many of the
animals resembled certain inhabitants of Berry’s Corner.

More than once he called the attention of his friends to a striking
likeness between these creatures and some of his acquaintances, and
repeated over and over again that he would be willing to cut his visit
very much shorter than had originally been intended, if by so doing his
father and mother could see the wonderful antics of the agile animals.

Bob and Tom were forced to literally drag him away from the entrancing
scene, in order to prevent complete bankruptcy; and even though not
less than two hours had been spent in this particular building, it
seemed to him as if he had hardly entered before he was outside once
more.

His friends had led him in turn to where the elephants, buffaloes, and
bears could be seen, and at each enclosure he made the same remark:--

“I’d rather stay in the monkey-house, than go all over this park a
dozen times;” and since their sole purpose was to afford him amusement,
it became necessary to allow him to return to the spot where, in his
mind, was centred the chief attraction of Central Park.

Not until nearly night-fall was he willing to drag himself away from
this delightful occupation; and even then it is barely possible he
might have made some protest against departure, but for the fact that
the buildings were being closed for the evening.

With a long-drawn sigh he walked slowly on with his companions, and as
the distance between himself and the prototypes of Berry’s Corner’s
most distinguished citizens was increased, he began to think of his
rapidly decreasing capital.

“I tell you it costs somethin’ to live in the city,” he said,
instinctively placing his hand over the shrunken pocket-book. “Why,
at home I can’t get a chance to spend a dollar in a month: but here
it seems as if it was pourin’ out all the time. I don’t know what’ll
become of me if I stay a great while.”

“When a feller’s on a spree money goes pretty fast,” Master Bartlett
replied philosophically. “But you’ve still got the woodchuck skins to
sell, an’ they oughter bring a good price. We’ll tend to ’em in the
mornin’.”

“It’ll come kinder hard on me if I don’t get somewhere near what I’ve
been figgerin’ on,” Josiah said thoughtfully, “’cause I’ve been goin’
it mighty strong since I struck this town.”

“You mustn’t bother your head ’bout that. You don’t come down here so
very often, an’ can ’ford to blow yourself pretty well when you do
strike the city. A hundred years from now it won’t make any difference.”

“I ain’t lookin’ ahead so far as that,” Josiah replied grimly. “The
hundred-year part of it’ll be all right; but I’m thinkin’ ’bout the
balance of this week.”

“We’ll see you through;” and then Tom dismissed the matter, as if
advancing his friend several dollars would be nothing more than
an ordinary business transaction to which he was thoroughly well
accustomed.

The ride down town in the elevated cars was not as pleasant as the one
in the morning had been, owing to the fact that it was now dark, and
there was less to be seen, while the visitor was decidedly tired.

The walk from the station to Baker’s Court seemed unusually long,
and the supper, even though it was served in the stuffy kitchen, was
appreciated to its fullest extent.

Had Josiah consulted his own inclination, he would have retired
immediately after the evening meal was brought to a close; but Bob and
Tom were eager their friend should view Brooklyn Bridge in the night,
when the lights of the city formed a brilliant background, and almost
reluctantly Josiah allowed himself to be conducted from the court once
more.

“By gracious! If I get used up walkin’ ’round havin’ a good time, what
must it be for that little match-girl, who’s on her feet all day, an’
with not half enough to eat?”

“Well, it’s tough, of course,” Tom said thoughtfully; “but there’s a
good many of us got the same kind of a snap, an’ I don’t reckon she’s
any worse off than lots I could pick up.”

“S’pose she’s had any supper to-night?”

“Now see here, Josiah,” and Tom spoke very decidedly. “It’s no kind
of use for you to spoil your good time thinkin’ ’bout her. She’ll get
along jest the same’s before you come, an’ won’t have it any harder.”

“I s’pose that’s so,” Josiah said half to himself; “you see, I never
thought there could be so much trouble in the city, where it seems as
if everybody has money.”

“There’s a good many of ’em ain’t got any, an’ that’s a fact. If you’re
so stuck on seein’ Sadie agin, we’ll make it our business to flash her
up when there’s nothin’ on hand; but as I said this mornin’, she’d
better stay where she is while we’re busy.”

Josiah realized that his friends were not at all pleased by his
frequent reference to the little match-girl, and he remained silent;
but there was beginning to spring up in his mind a plan which he hoped
might be carried into execution.

It is just possible that the friends of the young gentleman from
Berry’s Corner made a mistake in introducing him to the Brooklyn Bridge
during the evening, or perhaps he was too tired to appreciate that
wonderful structure; but certain it is, he did not evince the surprise
or admiration which Tom and Bob had expected, and even complained of
the distance, saying, after they had walked with him across and back,
that he would have “liked it a good deal better if it wasn’t more’n
half as long.”

Upon their return to Baker’s Court it was not necessary for Mrs.
Bartlett to urge the party to retire.

There was nothing the visitor could think of that would be so
refreshing as a bed just then; and he believed no pleasure could be
greater than that of being able to lie down in his own room, with the
knowledge that his mother was within call, even though by such change
in his surroundings his visit to the city would be materially shortened.

When Josiah awakened next morning the first thought in his mind was
that of the money spent during the previous day, his second as to
whether Sadie had had any breakfast, and the third, regarding the
amount he would receive for the fur.

“We’re goin’ down to Coney Island to-day,” Bob cried as his guest
awakened him. “Tom an’ me’ll see to the tickets, an’ we’re countin’ on
the biggest kind of a time.”

“But I must go up to the fur store, else I’ll spend all my money, an’
won’t have any left to buy presents for father an’ mother.”

“Well, we’ll do that right after breakfast,” Tom replied.

An hour later the three boys left Baker’s Court, Josiah carrying the
fruits of his labor as a trapper closely wrapped in an old newspaper,
and feeling just a trifle uneasy about entering the city shops.

It was hardly probable the establishment would be open at such an early
hour; and, knowing they had plenty of time at their disposal, Tom
proposed to go around Broadway to Printing House Square, where he had
agreed to meet Billy Foss, who was to accompany them to Coney Island.

Master Foss was a small merchant, both in point of stature and his
transactions in the newspaper line; an industrious one also, as
could be told from the fact that, although intending to take a day’s
vacation, he was devoting the earlier hours of the morning to business.

“It’s all right,” he said when Tom explained that they were going up
Broadway before starting on the excursion. “I wanted to sell a few
papers so’s all the day wouldn’t be wasted, an’ I’ll jest about be
through when you get back. Meet me down to the Herald office.”

Then Tom led the way up Chatham Street, and Josiah saw the girl of whom
he was at that moment thinking.

“Hello, Sadie, how’s trade?” Bob shouted.

“I haven’t sold a box this mornin’. It seems as if nobody needed
matches; an’ I reckon I’ll have to go into the newspaper business, even
if the boys are rough.”

“Does she ever make very much?” Josiah asked in a whisper, as they were
approaching the child.

“No, an’ I don’t know what she’s goin’ to do when cold weather comes.
Tom an’ me help her out as much as we can, an’ some of the other
fellers chip in a little; but it’s tough for her just the same. I don’t
reckon she’s had anything to eat this mornin’, ’cause most likely
Mother Hunter took all her money before she left the house.”

At that moment Sadie found a customer for her wares, and the boys
walked away, Tom shouting when they were a few paces distant, that he
would see her as they came back.

Josiah immediately became very thoughtful.

While sight-seeing with his two friends, he had forgotten Sadie and
her troubles to a certain extent; but now, as he saw her at her work,
all she had told him came into his mind, and he grew down-hearted,
regardless of the fact that he was soon to see the wonders of Coney
Island.

He was beginning to learn that hunger and want are frequent visitors
in cities; and as he thought of Berry’s Corner, where all who were
willing to work could find some way to earn sufficient money for their
necessities, the metropolis lost very much of its beauty in his eyes.

On arriving at the shop a short distance above Canal Street, the boys
found it open, consequently there need be no time wasted in waiting, as
had been feared.

The woodchuck skins were not as valuable, in this particular dealer’s
estimation, as Josiah had fancied.

The merchant examined them, expressed considerable dissatisfaction at
the method of curing, and ended by offering fifteen cents for each.

This was so much less than the boys expected, that they would not
accept the offer, and during the next hour went from shop to shop, but
without meeting any better success.

It really seemed as if every furrier in town had conspired against
the trapper from Berry’s Corner, and had set the price of supposedly
valuable pelts at a ridiculously low figure.

“Are you goin’ to sell them for that?” Bob asked when they emerged from
one of the largest establishments on Broadway, where the clerks would
not even examine the skins, after being told they were woodchucks.

“What else can I do?” and Josiah spoke in a mournful tone. “Father says
they mustn’t lay ’round the house in the winter, an’ mother won’t have
’em there in the summer on account of the moths, so I’d better give the
whole lot away than carry ’em home again.”

“Then let’s go back to the first store, ’cause that man acted squarer
than the rest, and didn’t put on so many airs.”

Josiah was greatly troubled in mind.

He had been almost recklessly extravagant since he arrived, believing
the amount received from the fur would give him all the spending money
needed, and with that idea had invited Sadie to accompany him to the
museum on the Bowery.

Now, however, the utmost economy would be necessary, probably at the
expense of the presents to his parents, and he must count carefully the
pennies in order that all his hoard might not be exhausted before his
father arrived.

“I have been a big fool,” he said to himself; “but who would have
thought things were so high in the city? Now I’ve got to go on with the
racket even though the last cent is spent, an’ I don’t have anything to
carry home.”

By the time these mournful reflections were brought to a close they
were at the shop first visited, and the trapper from Berry’s Corner
received the amount offered for his furs.

The sixty cents were deposited in the huge wallet, and the boys turned
toward the City Hall once more, Tom urging them on at full speed in
order that they might leave for Coney Island at the earliest possible
moment.

But it was as if Josiah could not walk rapidly.

He paid no attention to the alluring shop windows, neither did he
appear to hear what his companions said to him, until they were
crossing Chambers Street, when Bob cried impatiently:--

“If you don’t hurry up we won’t get there till noon. So long as we’ve
got to spend our money for it, we may as well scoop in the whole show.”

Then it was Josiah suddenly awakened to the fact that his companions
were urging him to greater speed; and he said abruptly, as he halted
and seized both boys by the arms to insure attention:--

“See here, fellers, it’ll cost considerable money to go there, won’t
it?”

“Bob an’ I’ve ’greed to pay for everything. We’ve been savin’ up to
give you a good time, an’ it’ll be done in style.”

“Hold on a minute,” and Josiah spoke hurriedly, as if almost ashamed of
what he was about to say. “I’d like to see the place, ’cause I want to
know how the ocean looks; but when I think of that little match-girl
without anybody to help her, it don’t seem’s if it was right to spend
so much money jest for fun.”

“Do you mean to say we oughter give it to her?” Tom asked in surprise.

“It would do more good than for us to spend it havin’ a swell time.”

“You wouldn’t have much money if you staid ’round here givin’ it to
every feller that was hard up,” Tom replied quite sharply. “There’s
more’n a hundred jest as bad off as she is, an’ we can’t help ’em all.
Both of us give her a few pennies when we’ve had a good day’s work; but
sometimes it’s tough scrapin’ to get enough for ourselves.”

“Now don’t spoil all our fun,” Bob added. “You’ve come down where you
never was before, an’ we wanter kind of square up for the good time out
to the farm; but how are we goin’ to do it if you get soft on everybody
what’s in trouble? Let’s go to Coney Island now, an’ to-morrow, if you
say so, we’ll give her a nickle apiece.”

Josiah realized that he ought not interfere with the plans of his
friends, neither was it for him to say whether they should devote their
money to almsgiving, and he replied:--

“I’ll tell you what I wish you’d let me do: I haven’t got a great deal
of spare cash; but I’d like to take her with us, an’ am willin’ to pay
all she costs. It’ll be a big thing for her, an’ won’t spoil our fun.”

Tom and Bob hesitated, because they were just a trifle uncertain as to
how Master Foss might fancy this unexpected addition to the party; and
Josiah continued, in order to make his meaning more plain:--

“If she goes, I want to be sure an’ pay her bills, an’ I’ll see that
she ain’t in you fellers’ way.”

“Well, s’pose we try it?” Bob said to Tom after a short pause. “It
won’t do any harm; an’ if it’s goin’ to give him a better time, why we
oughter let her come.”

“All right; you go after her with him, an’ I’ll snoop down to the
Herald office so’s to kind of break it gently to Bill. It might not do
to flash the thing too sudden on him, ’cause he never did think much of
girls.”

Tom hurried away as he ceased speaking, while Josiah and Bob continued
on to Chatham Square, where they plunged Sadie into a state of
bewilderment and amazement, by inviting her to spend the entire day at
Coney Island.

“Do you think I look fit?” she asked anxiously.

“Course you do,” Josiah replied promptly; “besides, nobody’s goin’ to
see you.”

This was sufficient for the child; and, stopping only long enough to
deposit her tray of matches with the friendly shopkeeper, she joined
the boys, Josiah feeling fully repaid for the money he was about to
spend, by the look of gratitude which lighted up the pale face.



CHAPTER IX.

THE EXCURSION.


Tom was overtaken before he had walked very far; and although he and
Bob had consented to Josiah’s inviting Sadie to accompany them on the
excursion, neither felt that it was exactly the proper thing for them
to have “a girl taggin’ on behind,” as some of their acquaintances
afterwards described it.

They would have been glad for Sadie to enjoy herself in some other
direction than with them; and during the journey to the Herald office,
where Master Foss was to be met, the newsdealers kept considerably in
advance of their guest and the match-girl, as if not willing to admit
that the two were a portion of their party.

“I expect the fellows will jest ’bout guy the life out of us for takin’
her along,” Bob whispered to Tom; “but I didn’t see any other way
after Josiah was so set upon her goin’.”

“Never mind what they say, so long’s we’ve got her,” Tom replied; “but
I think we oughter put our foot down against her comin’ in the first
place, ’cause she’s goin’ to break the fun all up before night, an’ I
don’t feel like puttin’ out good money without gettin’ somethin’ back.”

There was no further opportunity to discuss the unexpected state of
affairs; for at this moment Master Foss hailed them from the opposite
side of the street, and, before he could cross, Sadie and Josiah had
joined the party.

Bill looked first at the match-girl, and then at his friends, in an
inquiring manner, and appeared so thoroughly disturbed in mind that Bob
motioned him to step into an unoccupied door-way, where he whispered
hoarsely:--

“We couldn’t help it, Bill, for a fact. You see, Josiah’s stuck on
takin’ her ’round ’cause he thinks she don’t have many good times,
an’ we was bound to do as he wanted, for when we was out to his place
everything we said went.”

“An’ is she goin’ all the way with us?” Bill asked anxiously.

“That’s jest the size of it.”

“Well, I wish I had known it beforehand; you wouldn’t have caught me
givin’ up a day’s work for the sake of haulin’ her ’round.”

“Now see here,” Tom said, as he approached quickly, understanding from
the delay that the small newsdealer was entering his protest against
this unexpected addition to the party, “there’s no use kickin’, an’
we’ve got to make the best of it. Don’t get on your ear ’bout a little
thing like that, an’ we’ll have jest as good a time as we know how.”

Sadie was so thoroughly delighted with the prospect of seeing Coney
Island, a place of which she had heard but never visited, that she paid
no attention to the delay which was caused by Master Foss; but Josiah
fancied he knew why his friends remained so long in the door-way, and
it disturbed him not a little that he should have been the means of
marring the day’s pleasure in even the slightest degree.

At the same time he would have felt uncomfortable in mind had he gone
on this pleasuring alone, knowing it would afford the match-girl so
much enjoyment; and he began to talk very loudly to her regarding the
vehicles in the street, the pedestrians on the sidewalk, or anything
which met his gaze at the instant, in order to prevent her from
becoming suspicious as to the true state of affairs.

Fortunately Sadie was so excited that she would hardly have paid
attention had the excursion been delayed an hour; and when the
three boys finally emerged from the door-way, Bill Foss looking
decidedly ill-tempered, she had no idea her coming had caused either
embarrassment or ill-feeling.

“I suppose she’ll have to go, now the thing’s fixed,” Bill had said
when the interview was brought to an end; “but I won’t walk along the
streets with her, that’s all there is about it.”

“You don’t have to,” Bob said soothingly. “Josiah an’ she can take care
of themselves, an’ we’ll keep a little ways ahead so’s nobody’ll know
Sadie’s with us at all.”

In pursuance of this plan Bill walked rapidly, and more than once
before the pier was reached did it become necessary for Bob and Tom to
urge their country friend to quicken his pace.

“We want to take the next boat,” the latter said impatiently, “an’
you’ll have time enough to look into the store windows when we get
back. If you don’t make him come fast, Sadie, we’ll never get there.”

This threat was sufficient to cause the match-girl to urge Josiah on
when he was tempted to stop at any unusual display, and they had ample
time in which to make arrangements for the trip on the steamer.

Bob and Tom had proposed to assume all expenses of the day’s outing,
and to that end the former stepped toward the ticket-office; but Josiah
objected, saying in a whisper as he forced some coins into his friend’s
hand:--

“I agreed to stand what Sadie cost, so you must take this.”

“I sha’n’t do anything of the kind. Tom an’ I are treatin’ this time,
an’ we’re goin’ to do it in the best shape we know how.”

“But I dragged her along, an’ it ain’t any more’n fair I should pay for
it.”

“I might have let you, if you’d got anything out of the woodchuck
skins; but they went so awful cheap, I reckon you’ll need all the money
you’ve got before your father comes.”

Josiah urged the acceptance of the coins; but all to no purpose, and
the young gentleman from Berry’s Corner felt more disturbed in mind
than ever as they walked across the gang-plank, for he was aware that
by his invitation the amount which Tom and Bob had laid aside for the
excursion would be sensibly reduced.

The music of the Italian band, the steamer (for, with the exception of
the ferry-boat, he had never been on board one before), as well as the
crowds of people, soon served to drive from Josiah’s mind everything
save that which was passing immediately before him, and during the
trip to the Island he was in a state of surprise and delight amounting
almost to bewilderment.

His first sensations were of fear lest the boat, crowded to what he
fancied was a dangerous extent, would sink beneath her heavy cargo; but
since nothing of the kind happened immediately after leaving the dock,
he recovered from his alarm, and began to think it possible she might
be seaworthy, although he was confident a dozen more people would swamp
her.

The different craft on the river, or lying at the docks, the tooting
of whistles, and the confusion on the decks, caused it to seem as if he
was in a different world from that in which he had lived while on the
farm, and more than once he whispered to Sadie:--

“I’d be willin’ to go home this very minute, if mother an’ father could
be here long enough to see these things. I’ve heard ’bout vessels; but
I didn’t b’lieve there could be so many in the world, an’ as for water,
why the brook at the farm ain’t anywhere!”

Bill Foss, afraid of being suspected as one of the party, remained
quite a distance from the others, which forced either Tom or Bob to
stay with him in order to play the part of host, therefore both of
them were not near Josiah during the entire trip, as they would have
preferred; but this enforced absence did not prevent him from seeing
all the sights brought into view during the passage, and when they
finally arrived at their destination he had a better idea of the size
of New York harbor than ever before.

Once on the dock the question arose as to how to begin what Tom and Bob
intended should be a “dizzy round of pleasure.”

Bill was quite as much averse to being seen with “a girl in the crowd,”
as while in New York; and for a short time the hosts were sadly at a
loss to know how the entertainment could be conducted, in order to give
the proper amount of attention to each of their guests.

Fortunately, at this moment Sadie and Josiah were delighted by a view
of the flying-horses in full operation, and at the same instant Master
Foss was attracted by a game of ball in which the target was a negro’s
head; and Bob whispered:--

“Here’s our chance! You get them two on the horses, an’ I’ll see that
Bill has a show to hit the nigger if he can.”

Neither of the hosts participated in the pleasure, except as a
spectator; but it appeared to be enjoyment enough for them, and when
fifteen minutes had passed, this portion of the programme was brought
to a close.

Bill did not succeed in striking the target; but the exercise, together
with the fact that it was what he called “a free blow” so far as he
was concerned, had put him in the best of humor, therefore, with a
magnanimity which caused his friends no slight amount of pleasure, he
was willing to so far unbend his dignity as to walk not more than a few
yards in advance of Sadie.

Five cents were invested in “nigger eye-balls,” five more in
“bolivars,” and then the sight-seers promenaded the entire length of
the beach, past all the booths, stopping here and there to see some
free entertainment given as an attraction to a restaurant or saloon,
remaining at each one until the proprietor or an employee suggested
that it was time for them to be “movin’, for they didn’t bring any
trade to the place.”

This portion of the sight-seeing had occupied the remainder of the
forenoon, and then came what the hosts intended should be, and Tom
announced was, the “boss part of the day.”

“We’re goin’ right in here, an’ every one is to have a plate of clam
chowder,” he said with the air of a millionaire, if indeed millionaires
indulge in clam chowder at Coney Island.

Sadie’s eyes opened wide with astonishment as the daring Tom led
the way into a restaurant even more magnificent than the “Jim Fisk”
establishment on Chatham Street; and, halting his party in the centre
of the room, he announced to one of the waiters with not so much as a
tremor of his eyelids, that they had “come for a chowder.”

The man looked at these intended customers a moment, as if to decide
whether they had sufficient money to pay for the desired refreshments,
and then motioned them to a table at the farther corner of the room,
although one near the window was without an occupant.

Tom was about to obey the mute command, when Bob stopped him by saying
in a hoarse whisper:--

“Look here, if we’ve got to pay for these chowders jest the same as
anybody else, I’m goin’ to set where I want to;” and he boldly took a
chair from the desired table, seating himself with the air of one who
knows his rights and is determined to have them, while the others, with
more or less trepidation, followed his example.

Bill Foss did his best to appear perfectly at ease, and so far
succeeded that he actually took a fragment of cracker from the plate,
and began eating it as if he had a perfect right to indulge his
appetite in whatever manner should please him most.

Sadie and Josiah looked uncomfortable, and probably were, during the
time of waiting for their refreshments.

Both sat on the edge of their chairs as if undecided whether it would
be wise to occupy them in a proper manner; and each gazed at the other
in fear and trembling when Bill, emboldened by his first attempt, broke
off a second and larger piece of the biscuit, putting it in his mouth
at imminent risk of strangling himself.

Tom, thinking of the very important portion of the feast, whispered to
Bob:--

“Why didn’t you ask him how much they’d charge to fill us up with
chowder?”

“What would I do that for? I reckon they’ll tell us when we get through
eatin’, an’ this firm has got money enough to stand the shot, don’t you
be afraid of that.”

It certainly seemed as if the waiter was troubled with the same
misgivings as Tom; for before bringing them what had been ordered, he
returned to the table and asked:--

“Do you want one check, or five, for these chowders?”

He looked directly at Josiah as he spoke; and the boy from Berry’s
Corner was beginning to feel much more uncomfortable than before, when
Bob said decidedly:--

“I don’t know how many we want; but I’m goin’ to pay for the whole
crowd.”

The waiter took a check from among a number of others in his apron
pocket, and placed it before the generous host, as if to intimate that
it would be better to settle in advance, while a look of consternation,
which he tried in vain to hide, came upon Master Green’s face as his
eyes rested on the printed figures.

Bill leaned over in order to see more clearly, and then gave vent to a
whistle of astonishment; but Bob was determined the waiter should not
think him unaccustomed to such bills, and with no little difficulty
counted out the required amount.

“How much was it?” Tom asked anxiously, when the waiter had disappeared.

“A dollar and a quarter!”

“What?”

“That’s what I said. I tell you they oughter bring along a slat of
stuff if they’re goin’ to charge that much for it. I was countin’ on
havin’ a pretty swell dinner; but I guess the chowder is ’bout as far
as we’ll go if things keep on at this rate.”

“Well, I reckon they give a good deal, an’ that’s why the price is so
high,” Bill said in a soothing tone, and once more made an attack upon
the crackers. “Of course if a feller gets all he can eat, I don’t know
as it’s very much, considerin’ we’re down to Coney Island.”

Now Josiah was more distressed than ever, because he had added to the
liabilities of his friends, and he whispered to Bob:--

“If you’re runnin’ short I can let you have some.”

“Oh, it’s all right. I’ll get through. We didn’t ’low to spend less’n
that for dinner, so we’re solid.”

Then the party waited anxiously to see how much chowder they were to
receive for the large amount of money expended; and when it was finally
brought Bill Foss exclaimed, even before the waiter had left the
table:--

“I’ll tell you, fellers, this is growin’ too rich for my blood!
Twenty-five cents apiece for them little bowls of chowder, when I can
get all I can carry away for five cents, up to the Jim Fisk saloon,
kinder looks hard.”

“Well, don’t say anything about it now, Billy. We’ve got inter the
scrape, an’ might jest as well enjoy ourselves. There ain’t much of it,
I know; but perhaps it’s awful nice,” and Bob set a good example to his
friends by attacking his portion without delay.

During the next ten minutes the pleasure-seekers did not indulge in any
extended conversation.

The time was fully occupied in trying to extract the value of their
money from the food before them, and they had no opportunity for
anything else.

It was not until the last crumb had disappeared that Bill Foss asked,
as he pushed his chair back a few inches to show that he was perfectly
at ease:--

“Well, fellers, now we’ve filled up, whater we goin’ to do?”

“Come outside,” Bob replied; and as the party gained the board-walk he
added, “The rest of you stay here while I talk to Tom a minute.”

“They’re goin’ to count up the cash,” Bill Foss whispered as the two
stepped behind a candy booth, and Sadie said to Josiah:--

“I’m sorry we went in there to dinner, for the boys spent a good deal
more’n they ought to.”

“Now, don’t you go to worryin’ ’bout that. Us fellers will ’tend to the
money, an’ if Tom an’ Bob haven’t got enough I’m willin’ to put out all
there is in my pocket.”

Then the three waited in something very nearly approaching anxious
suspense to learn whether the day’s pleasuring was to end with the
eating of the chowder, or if there were sufficient funds at their
disposal to admit of a more protracted stay.



CHAPTER X.

A DISAPPEARANCE.


Bob and Tom looked decidedly relieved when they returned from the
private interview, and there was really no need of questioning them as
to the state of their finances.

“It’s all right,” the former said in a tone of relief. “We’ve got our
tickets home, an’ sixty cents besides, so I reckon that will be enough
to do up all there is here. Now go in an’ have the best time you know
how. What do you want to do, Josiah?”

“I’m satisfied jest to walk ’round. There’s no place to go without
spendin’ a lot of money.”

“But we’re doin’ the whole figger this time. Tom an’ Bill an’ me can
come down any day, while you can’t; so we’ve made up our minds you
shall get all that’s goin’, an’ we’ll hold back.”

“But I don’t want to do anything of the kind,” and Josiah looked
distressed. “There’s no need of spendin’ more money, an’, besides, I
wouldn’t go into what you fellers couldn’t share.”

“Don’t mind ’bout us. We’ll look out for ourselves. What do you want to
do?”

“Walk ’round a little while.”

“I’ll tell you what it is, we’re goin’ in swimmin’,” Bill Foss said
decidedly. “I made up my mind this mornin’ that if I got to Coney
Island the first thing I did would be to go right inter the water.”

“But it costs as much as twenty-five cents apiece to get a bathin’
suit,” Tom suggested.

“Well, s’posen it does? We don’t want to buy any. I’m goin’ jest as I
am.”

“You never could do that! How would you look runnin’ ’round here all
wet?”

“I wouldn’t run much till I got dry. What’s the matter with layin’ out
on the sand in the sun? I don’t wanter to put on any frills.”

“What do you think of it, Josiah?” Bob asked.

“I don’t b’lieve I’d dare to go in where the waves come up so high, an’
besides, I’d a good deal rather see the things ’round here.”

“I’ll tell you how to fix it,” Tom suggested. “Of course Sadie can’t go
in, so what’s to keep her an’ Josiah from doin’ whatever they wanter
for half an hour? Then we’ll be dried out, an’ ready to chip in for
what they say.”

“That’s the very thing!” and Josiah spoke quickly lest his companions
should object to the scheme; for he understood that by inviting Sadie
he had not only added to the expense, but curtailed their pleasure to a
very decided degree. Since all three of the boys appeared eager for the
bath, he preferred seeing the sights in company with the match-girl.

“Where’ll we meet you when we get through?” Tom asked.

“We’ll come right here in half an hour,” and Josiah looked around to
make certain of the landmarks in the vicinity.

“Don’t go too far away, else you might not get back, an’ we wanter take
the boat mighty soon after dark,” Bob said, as Bill, impatient for his
bath, hurried away.

“I’ll look out for that,” Josiah replied confidently. “You’ll see us
when you’re ready to leave.”

The three boys walked rapidly toward the beach; and Josiah, feeling it
incumbent upon himself to play the part of entertainer, led Sadie to
a canvas tent, the outside of which was covered with gaudily-painted
representations of improbable animals in the most glaring colors.

“Are you goin’ in?” she asked, halting in front of the “band,” which
was represented by a hand-organ.

“Yes, we want to see everything, an’ might as well begin right here.”

“But it costs ten cents.”

“I know it, an’ s’pose we oughter wait till the other fellers are with
us; but we’ve got to do somethin’, an’ if they wanter see these things
I’ll buy ’em tickets when they come back,” Josiah replied. “Then if it
ain’t good we sha’n’t be losin’ so much money.”

Five minutes later the boy from Berry’s Corner was decidedly glad he
had not waited to invite his friends; for the number of curiosities on
exhibition was so small as compared with those seen in the “circus” on
Chatham Square, as to make a dime appear a greater extravagance than
was the quarter in the purchase of a clam chowder.

“Well, they don’t swindle me that way again,” he said a trifle
impatiently as they came out from the tent. “Why, the fellers in
Berry’s Corner could rig up a better show than that for ten pins, an’
then not think they was doin’ very much.”

Sadie had nothing to say.

She was vexed because the exhibition was so much less than what it
had been represented, but remained silent through fear of adding to
Josiah’s disappointment, and the two walked up the beach where there
were very many entertaining things to be seen free of charge.

During the next half-hour the sight-seers were oblivious to the passage
of time.

A kindly-disposed waiter at one of the saloons on the board-walk
allowed them to remain during the performance of an alleged band of
negro minstrels, without intimating that they were bringing in no
custom to the establishment, and the exhibition was so thoroughly
satisfactory that for a while they forgot the engagement which should
have been kept some time previous.

“The fellers’ll be waitin’ for us, an’ I expect Bill Foss is pretty
nigh fussin’ hisself to death ’cause we don’t come,” Josiah said as
he led his companion away from the entrancing spot where the music had
held them spellbound. “It must be ’most an hour since we left ’em.”

Sadie, who depended upon her generous friend to show her the way, had
given no heed to the direction in which they traveled; and now, when
they wished to return, she followed Josiah readily, ignorant of the
fact that he was walking directly away from the appointed place of
meeting.

The young gentleman from the country believed he had a very good idea
of the course which had been pursued, and, as he thought, retraced it
correctly, until fifteen or twenty minutes were spent without bringing
them to any familiar spot.

Then he halted in dismay, and looked around helplessly.

“We’ve been goin’ wrong,” he said in the tone of one who has made an
important discovery; and Sadie replied, as if the matter was of little
concern:

“Then we must go right back.”

This was what Josiah most desired; but whether he would be able to do
so or not, was another matter.

He could distinguish nothing to guide him on his way, and stood in
painful indecision until, noticing a look of anxiety on Sadie’s face,
he believed it necessary to prevent her from becoming alarmed, and
therefore resolved to act as if confident he knew exactly in which
direction to proceed.

It would have seemed a simple matter if he had been able to inquire
the way; but, not knowing where he should go until he could see the
landmarks before noticed, it was impossible to tell a third party where
the boys had agreed to meet him.

In addition to these troubles he was growing weary; but it was
necessary to join his friends as soon as possible, and he pushed on at
the best pace which he believed Sadie would be able to maintain.

Fifteen minutes more passed, and then the match-girl understood the
true position of affairs.

“You don’t know where to go,” she said, halting and looking up into
Josiah’s face.

“Well I don’t, an’ that’s a fact.”

“Neither do I.”

“How are we goin’ to find the fellers?” and now Josiah began to grow
alarmed. “We can’t go home ’cause Bob has got the tickets, ’cept I pay
another fare, an’ I don’t wanter leave while they’re huntin’ for us. I
expect Bill Foss is tearin’ mad by this time. It must be as much as two
hours since we left ’em.”

“How would it do if I went one way, an’ you the other?” Sadie asked.

“I reckon that would make us worse off than ever, ’cause how could we
meet again? S’posen you found ’em, you wouldn’t know where I was.”

“Yes, that’s true; but we mustn’t stand here;” and this time she took
the lead, Josiah following meekly behind.

If they could have arrived at the rendezvous at that very moment, they
would not have found their friends.

Their hosts and Master Foss were at the appointed place very nearly
in due season; and after waiting fifteen or twenty minutes, their
impatience became so great that inaction was no longer possible.

“I knew jest how it would be when you brought a girl along,” Bill said
angrily; “they’re allers breakin’ up a feller’s snap, an’ why she
wasn’t left behind is more’n I know. If that boy from the country is so
anxious to have ’em taggin’ ’round after him, let him wait till he goes
home. It costs too much for us to come down here, an’ lose the best
part of the day jest because of her.”

Inasmuch as Bill had not paid or offered to pay any portion of the
expenses, it was unkind, to say the least, for him to make this remark;
but neither Bob nor Tom appeared to take any notice of it.

Both were as eager as Bill to enjoy every moment of the visit, but did
not feel that they had any right to blame their guest for the delay.

“I s’pose there are so many things to see that he don’t know how long
he’s been gone,” Bob suggested. “If you an’ Tom wanter go off, I’ll
stay here an’ wait for ’em; we’ll kinder split the thing up so’s you
won’t lose a great deal of the sport.”

“There’s no fun if the whole crowd ain’t together,” Master Foss replied
with the air of one who is determined to feel thoroughly miserable, and
he seated himself in a martyr-like fashion on the edge of the board
walk.

During the next five minutes he allowed his friends to see how unhappy
they had made him, and then began grumbling once more.

“We might jest as well go home, an’ a good deal better’n to set ’round
here. What fun is there in this? I’d rather be up to City Hall Park
where the fellers are, an’ besides, see how much money I’m losin’! All
this afternoon’s business gone for the sake of hangin’ on to an old
sidewalk down to Coney Island.”

Bill continued his complaints in a similar fashion for a long while,
without receiving any reply, and then Bob’s patience was exhausted.

“See here,” he said sharply. “Tom an’ me couldn’t help this, an’ I
don’t reckon Josiah means to do anything out of the way; but if you
feel bad at havin’ to stay here a little while, s’pose you start off by
yourself?”

“I don’t wanter go without the crowd; but I’d rather be at home.”

“Here’s your ticket. We’re bound to wait for Josiah if he don’t get
back till mornin’, ’cause all we came here for was to give him a good
time, an’ I only hope he’s havin’ it.”

“I reckon he is, an’ don’t care anything ’bout what we have to do,”
Bill grumbled, but he did not take the proffered ticket.

“You don’t s’pose he’s got lost, do you?” Tom asked, an expression of
alarm coming over his face, and Bob cried as he leaped to his feet:--

“That’s jest what’s the matter! They’ve gone off somewhere, an’ don’t
know how to get back.”

“Then we’ll have a fine time huntin’ for ’em all night! I guess I’d
better go home,” Bill said, and without hesitation Bob handed him the
ticket once more.

“There you are! Now do as you’re a mind to. We’ve got to hunt for
Josiah. Tom, you go ’round by the water, an’ I’ll skin up this way.”

“Where shall I meet you?” Tom asked, as he turned to obey.

“Down by the dock. I’ll go there if I find ’em, an’ you must do the
same.”

Bill made no proposition to aid his friends; but, with his ticket in
his hand, went slowly toward the steamboat landing, his eyes fixed upon
the ground, as if afraid he might see the lost ones, and thus terminate
the search too soon to please him, for he was anxious his friends
should, as he expressed it, “get enough of taggin’ ’round with a girl.”

Half an hour later Bob and Tom met at the pier, but neither had seen
Josiah, and both felt seriously alarmed.

“Do you s’pose there’s any chance he’ll go home?” Tom asked.

“No, I don’t reckon he’d be likely to do that, ’cause I’ve got the
tickets, an’ he wouldn’t wanter put out so much money for nothin’.”

“Then I’m afraid it’ll be a good deal as Bill says. We shall spend the
rest of the day, an’ part of the night, huntin’ for ’em.”

“That won’t be such an awful long while, for it’s pretty nigh dark now.”

“What _are_ we goin’ to do?”

“There’s nothin’ for it except to keep right on huntin’. But say,” Bob
added, as a happy thought occurred to him, “let’s tell every policeman
we meet. They’d be sure to know Josiah, he looks so green, an’ could
send him down to the pier. Folks will be goin’ home mighty soon, an’
when there ain’t so much of a crowd here, it’ll be easier to see him.”

This plan was acted upon without delay; and in a short time every
officer in the immediate vicinity of the rendezvous knew that “a feller
from the country, with a girl what didn’t look very scrumptious,” was
lost.

Not until sunset did the two searchers meet again; and, as before,
there was nothing for either to report.

Josiah and Sadie had disappeared as completely as if the earth had
swallowed them, so far as these two friends of theirs were concerned;
and Bob said in a tone of conviction, as he wiped the perspiration from
his face:--

“It’s no use talkin’, Tom, they must have gone home; an’ the best thing
we can do is to take the next boat, for Josiah is at Baker’s Court by
this time.”

“But s’pose he isn’t?”

“There ain’t any s’pose ’bout it. If he’d staid we’d found him before
now, an’ the sooner we go, the better.”

Tom made no protest, and the two went on board the steamer, leaving
behind Josiah and Sadie, who were still vainly endeavoring to find the
appointed place of meeting.



CHAPTER XI.

BOB’S FRIEND.


It was while Tom and Bob were yet searching for the missing ones, that
Josiah decided it would be impossible for him to walk any farther until
after taking a rest.

He and Sadie had, as it appeared to them, traveled from one end of
the Island to the other without seeing any buildings which looked
familiar; and when the boy from the country was so weary that it seemed
impossible to take another step, he seated himself on the edge of the
board walk, saying mournfully:--

“It’s no use, Sadie! We’ll have to give it up for a while. I never was
so tired in my life, an’ don’t understand where Bob and Tom can be.”

“They must have gone home, ’cause it wouldn’t seem reasonable we’d be
walkin’ ’round all this time without meetin’ ’em. Perhaps they think
that’s where we are now.”

“I don’t believe they’d leave us; ’cause you see Bob knows we’d have to
buy other tickets, an’ his would be wasted.”

“But he couldn’t stay here all night.”

“He’d hold out a pretty long while before he left us,” Josiah said
decidedly, and Sadie ceased all attempts at persuading him her opinion
was correct.

“It seems to me as if it had been two days since we had that clam
chowder,” the boy said after a few moments of silence. “This runnin’
’round has made me hungry. S’pose we get somethin’ to eat before
huntin’ any more?”

“But remember how much Bob had to pay for dinner! I think after all
that money has been spent, we oughter get along a good while without
anything else.”

“There wasn’t so very much of it, except the price;” and the thought of
what he had eaten caused Josiah to grow more hungry.

There had been so many times in her life when the little match-girl was
obliged to get along without either dinner or supper, that she would
have been perfectly contented to wait until the boys should be found,
or, in fact, dispense with a second meal entirely; but Josiah was not
accustomed to anything of the kind, and it seemed a duty which must be
performed, regardless of expense.

Therefore, without further argument, he led his companion to the booth
where a not very cleanly looking man was dispensing sausage sandwiches.

“There!” he said in a tone of satisfaction, “they are five cents
apiece, an’ this ain’t any chowder business where they tuck on the
price after you’ve ordered the stuff. Now fill right up, an’ when you
can’t eat any more we’ll start out agin.”

Sadie obeyed meekly, and when each had eaten three of the sandwiches,
their hunger was appeased.

“I’ve had all I want,” Sadie said as she wiped her mouth with the
sleeve of her dress, “an’ they were good; but this payin’ fifteen cents
for three of ’em when you can get a tony dinner up to the Jim Fisk
restaurant for the same money, seems like a pretty big price.”

“Yes, that’s so,” Josiah added reflectively. “Out our way you can buy a
whole pound of sausages for ten cents. This man must be makin’ hisself
rich.”

During the five minutes spent in watching the vendor on his supposed
road to wealth, Josiah forgot that he and Sadie were lost; and then the
girl reminded him of the unpleasant fact by saying:--

“It won’t do to wait ’round here. I’m most certain we’re nowheres near
the place we agreed to meet the fellers, an’ we’ve got to hunt pretty
lively, ’cause it’ll be dark in a little while.”

Josiah followed without a word of remonstrance, although he would
have been willing to remain almost anywhere rather than continue the
exercise; but Sadie walked on rapidly, regardless alike of his or her
weariness of body.

When night came they were still apparently as far from accomplishing
the object of their search as at any time previous, and now Sadie
believed the proper course was to return to New York.

Josiah would not listen to anything of the kind.

He insisted his friends were yet on the Island, and announced his
determination of remaining all night rather than take the chances of
leaving them behind.

“What will we do when the last boat goes?” Sadie asked anxiously.

“Perhaps we’ll find the boys before then.”

“But s’posen we don’t?”

“Look here, Sadie, we won’t s’posen anything about it. We’ve got to
find ’em, an’ that’s all there is of it; but if the last boat _should_
go before either of ’em turned up, why we’d have to walk.”

“I’m ’fraid you couldn’t do much of that because you’re so tired now;”
and Sadie ceased her efforts at persuasion, shutting her teeth hard as
she thought they might possibly be forced to remain on their feet all
night; but determined to say nothing more lest the boy who had been so
kind should think her importunate.

From this hour until ten o’clock Josiah and his companion alternately
walked and rested, and just at the moment when he was beginning to
think it would be necessary to abandon the search, a stranger of about
his own age halted suddenly in front of him, as he asked:--

“Say, ain’t you the feller what come down from the country to see Bob
Green an’ Tom Bartlett?”

“Well, s’posen I am?” Josiah replied, rendered cautious by his previous
unpleasant experience.

“Nothin’; I reckoned you was, but couldn’t figger out where they were.
Hello, Sadie!” the stranger added as the match-girl stepped forward a
few paces where she could be seen. “You down here too?”

“Yes, an’ we’ve got lost. We come with Tom an’ Bob, an’ Bill Foss, but
now can’t find any of ’em.”

“How did that happen?”

“They went in bathin’, you see, an’ Josiah an’ me was goin’ to look
’round a little while. We went into a show, an’ when we come out
couldn’t find the place where they was goin’ to meet us.”

“How long ago was that?”

“Jest after dinner.”

“They’ve gone home by this time,” the boy said confidently. “It ain’t
likely they’d wait here so late if they didn’t find you, an’ you’d
better toddle right up to Baker’s Court.”

“That’s jest what I told Josiah,” Sadie said earnestly; “but he seemed
to think they’d stay here.”

“Of course not. What you want to do is go right on board the boat.”

“But Bob’s got the tickets,” Josiah said hesitatingly.

“Well, that can’t be helped now. Haven’t you enough cash for the fares?”

“Yes; but I don’t believe they’d like it if so much money was wasted.”

“They can’t help theirselves, if you don’t turn up. It ain’t likely
they’d think of stayin’ here all night, an’ you’ve got to hustle ’round
pretty lively if you want to get away. Come on, I’m goin’ up, an’ after
we get into town I reckon Sadie can take you to Baker’s Court.”

“Of course I can,” the match-girl replied confidently; and Josiah, much
against his will, allowed himself to be led on board the steamer, even
though he believed his friends were yet searching for him on the Island.

This second sea voyage was by no means as enjoyable as the first had
been.

Both Josiah and his companion were thoroughly tired, and the latter
took advantage of the opportunity to go to sleep almost immediately
after boarding the steamer.

Their new acquaintance professed to have important business with some
one on the lower deck, and Josiah was left to his own reflections,
which were not pleasant.

This last outlay had made serious inroads upon his already sadly
depleted capital, and the disagreeable thought came into his mind that
it would be necessary for him to return home minus the much-desired
gifts.

“Father an’ mother will have to do without anything, I’m afraid. It
makes me feel awful mean to go back as if I’d forgotten all about ’em
while I was here,” he said to himself. “I oughter sold them woodchuck
skins the first thing, an’ then I’d known jest how much they was worth.”

These thoughts naturally led to a desire on Josiah’s part to learn
exactly how much cash he had; and partially turning in his seat to
prevent those in the immediate vicinity from seeing his movements, he
took an account of the stock on hand.

“Here’s only ninety-two cents,” he said, as he returned the coins to
his pocket, “an’ seein’s how I’ve got to take the fellers up to that
museum, it don’t look as if I’d have very much left to buy things with.”

This fact, together with the weariness of body caused by long searching
for his friends, detracted from his pleasant memories of the forenoon;
and when the boat finally arrived at the pier, Josiah actually
regretted that the following day was not Saturday instead of Friday.

Sadie was not a particularly cheerful companion after having been
awakened from her nap, but she was a good guide, and this was the most
important of all.

Josiah followed her through the almost deserted streets, neither
speaking save at rare intervals, when the country boy, despairing
of ever reaching Baker’s Court, would ask how much farther it was
necessary to walk.

They had arrived within a block of their destination, when an outcry
from the opposite side of the street caused both to halt suddenly.

“It’s Bob!” Sadie said in mingled delight and surprise, and an instant
later Master Green was listening to his friend’s story of the fruitless
search at Coney Island.

“Tom’s ’round by the pier waitin’ for you. I tell you when we got
back an’ found you hadn’t come, things looked blue. I was ’fraid you
wouldn’t have money enough to pay for a lodgin’ down there, ’cause it
would cost pretty high if they charge for beds the same as they do for
chowder, an’ I couldn’t make out how you was goin’ to get along.”

“I guess we’d had to stay on the board walk all night,” Sadie said
laughingly; “but now we’ve found you there’s no use fussin’ any more.
I’ll go right home, ’cause I reckon Mother Hunter’ll be pretty ugly if
I don’t show up soon.”

“You’re goin’ to our house’ an’ stay till mornin’,” Bob said decidedly.
“You haven’t earned any money, an’ that old woman’ll jest about break
you all to pieces if you don’t give her a cent. I fixed it with mother,
an’ you can get along without a reg’lar bed.”

“I guess I can,” Sadie replied promptly. “It’s been so long since I
knew how it felt to sleep in one, that I shouldn’t get on very well if
I had a bed all to myself.”

While the three were talking, Tom returned breathless from long
running, and was on the point of announcing that their friends did not
arrive on the last boat, when he caught a glimpse of those who had been
lost.

“Well, I’m mighty glad to see you, an’ it’s too bad we was shut off so
on our swell time. We counted on showin’ you everything, an’ hadn’t
more’n begun when we got separated. It was all Bill Foss’s fault; he
would go in swimmin’.”

“It don’t make any difference,” Josiah said soothingly. “I reckon Sadie
an’ I saw a good deal more of Coney Island than you did. It seems to me
we went over every inch of the place two or three times. Is Bill ugly
’cause we got lost?”

“He’s ravin’ like an Injun. Anybody’d think this blow-out had cost him
all the money he’d made for a week, an’ he didn’t spend a single cent.
He was goin’ on terribly the last time I saw him.”

“I’m sorry,” Josiah began apologetically, and Bob interrupted him
impatiently:--

“Now don’t feel bad ’bout a little thing like that. If Bill don’t
fancy the way things was run, he needn’t go agin; an’ I’ll bet he
won’t, either. He made a regl’ar pig of hisself, fussin’ ’bout where he
wanted to go, an’ what he wanted to see. But come on! let’s get up to
the house as quick as we can.”

“Wait a minute; I’ve got some news to tell you,” Tom said. “What do you
s’pose the fellers are goin’ to do to-morrow afternoon?”

“What fellers?”

“Pretty nigh all we know. They’re gettin’ up a reg’lar dinner, so’s to
be friends with Josiah; an’ I reckon they’re thinkin’ of visitin’ out
to his farm next summer.”

“Where are they goin’ to have it?” Bob asked excitedly.

“There’s an old canal-boat over in the Erie Basin what Tim Black knows
about, an’ all the fellers are to buy somethin’ to eat. We strike there
as soon as the mornin’s business is done.”

“Is Sadie in the scrape?” Bob asked, thinking of the trouble caused by
her participation in the excursion.

“No, of course not. You see we’ve got to go in Saunder’s boat, an’ she
couldn’t do that, you know. I expect it’ll be a big time, ’cordin’ to
the way the fellers are gettin’ ready for it.”

Josiah was mildly pleased with the proposition; but he was a thoughtful
boy, and could not prevent himself from mentally asking what might be
the result if all these young gentlemen who proposed giving a feast in
his honor should visit the Shindle farm during the following summer.

Bob and Tom were not troubled by any such possibility, simply because
it did not chance to come into their minds; and both were in a high
state of excitement as they led the way to Baker’s Court.



CHAPTER XII.

THE MUSEUM.


When Josiah awakened next morning, his first thought was that his stay
had nearly come to an end.

It was Friday; and on the following day his father would arrive to take
him home,--a fact which gave him no slight amount of satisfaction.

His visit to the city had been very pleasant, but at the same time
he was beginning to think the Shindle farm a more desirable place of
residence than any he had seen since leaving Berry’s Corner.

Then, again, the state of his finances was such as to render it
necessary for him to return very soon, unless he was willing to remain
without sufficient money to pay his share of the expenses.

The cash expended for tickets from Coney Island had depleted his funds
to an alarming and unexpected extent.

He regretted having promised Sadie she should visit the dime museum
on the Bowery; but it did not seem as if he could well withdraw the
invitation, once it had been given.

“It’ll take all the money I’ve got,” he said to himself, “for of course
Tom an’ Bob will have to go; but it’s no use cryin’ over spilled milk,
an’ I’m goin’ to finish up in the right kind of style, even if I don’t
carry anything home to father an’ mother.”

Just then Bob awakened, and, as if able to read what was troubling
Josiah, asked:--

“How much did you have to pay out last night to get home?”

“I don’t exactly know. What’s the matter?”

“We want to give it back to you, of course.”

“You won’t do anything of the kind. I guess I can afford to stand that
much; an’ I oughter paid a good deal more, after takin’ Sadie, an’
makin’ such a crowd when she wasn’t one of your friends.”

“But we’re goin’ to give it back all the same. That was our time, an’
we allow to pay the bills.”

Josiah protested he would not permit them to refund a single penny of
the money; but Bob insisted, and Tom, who awakened very soon after the
conversation began, joined his brother merchant so emphatically in the
argument, that Master Shindle could not refuse.

“Here’s what it costs for two to come up from Coney Island,” Bob
finally said, as he dropped the amount into Josiah’s hand, “and you’ve
got to take it.”

“I’ll tell you how we’ll fix it,” Josiah replied after a short pause.
“I was countin’ on takin’ you fellers an’ Sadie up to that dime museum,
an’ we’ll use this money for the fares.”

“When are you goin’?” Tom asked.

“Any time you say.”

“Then we’d better wait till near noon, ’cause they have a regular show
there, an’ we don’t want to go in before it begins. S’posen Tom an’
me go down town a while after breakfast, an’ you stay with Sadie? We
oughter look out for our business a little, an’, besides, I’d like to
hear what Bill Foss has got to say for himself this mornin’.”

Josiah was perfectly willing to be left behind, for he had traveled
around the city so much that he was thoroughly tired; and as soon as
breakfast had been eaten, the young merchants set out, while Josiah
walked leisurely toward Mother Hunter’s with the match-girl, who
thought it safest to explain, as soon as possible, the cause of her
absence during the previous night, lest the old woman should be angry.

On this occasion Josiah did not go into the house. Sadie believed it
might be better for him to wait on the outside until she concluded the
business; and on her return, after an absence of not more than five
minutes, he asked:--

“What did she say?”

“Not very much; ’cause I told her I wouldn’t stay with her another day
when I saw she was startin’ to get into a tantrum, an’ that kind of
stopped her. Oh, dear,” she added with a long-drawn sigh, “it must be
nice to have a home like real folks, same’s as Tom an’ Bob have got.
They tell me yours beats theirs all out an’ out.”

“Well, I think myself it’s pleasanter,” Josiah replied, not wishing
to say anything disparaging of his friends’ home, and yet eager that
the Shindle Farm should be given all the praise it deserved. “You
see, there’s more room in the country, an’ folks ain’t packed so close
together, besides, a feller can do what he wants to without bein’
afraid of gettin’ lost.”

“I’d like to see the country once, the grass, an’ the cows, an’ the
butter, an’ milk.”

“Perhaps you will, sooner’n you think for,” Josiah began, and then
checked himself as if suddenly remembering he was saying too much
regarding that which had occupied a prominent place in his thoughts
during the past two or three days.

Sadie made no attempt to do any business on this morning, explaining
that she could work all the better after they had been to the museum;
and the two went to Baker’s Court to wait the coming of Tom and Bob.

To Sadie’s delight the young gentlemen did not arrive until dinner
was ready, consequently she had another “square meal,” as she
confidentially told Josiah.

“I didn’t really mean to hang ’round for somethin’ to eat,” she
explained; “but so long’s we’d got to wait here for ’em, I was glad
they staid away till noon. After you’ve gone home I expect there’ll be
a good many times when I’ll remember what we ate in the restaurant down
to Coney Island, which I wouldn’t have got if you hadn’t come to the
city, an’ let that stand for a meal.”

“Are you goin’ to sell matches all winter?”

“I’ll have to; for there’s nothin’ else I can do.”

“But you’ll freeze to death on the streets when it comes cold.”

“It won’t be quite so bad as that, ’cause a feller can move ’round an’
go into the stores once in a while, to stand over the registers till
they drive you out. It’s worse at night when you can’t get in anywhere.”

This conversation was interrupted by the young newsdealers, who
insisted the party should start at once for the museum, in order to be
back sufficiently early to join their business acquaintances who were
to give the feast in honor of Josiah.

“Is Bill Foss goin’ to be there?” Josiah asked, probably thinking that
in such a case there was every chance the pleasure would be sadly
curtailed.

“Yes; but you needn’t fuss ’bout it,” Bob replied promptly. “I reckon
he’s feelin’ kinder ’shamed of hisself ’cause of the way he acted
yesterday, an’ there won’t be any trouble. Bill’s a decent sort of a
feller; but you see it mixed him all up to have a girl along. He allers
counts on goin’ ahead in everything, an’ was ’fraid somebody’d see him
there with Sadie. He knows pretty nigh every one of the folks in this
town.”

“Bill wasn’t scared ’bout bein’ seen with me last week, when he wanted
to borrow ten cents,” the match-girl retorted quite sharply.

“Did you lend it to him?” Tom asked quickly.

“I didn’t have it, else I should; but since I’ve been livin’ with
Mother Hunter there ain’t any chance to get that much money ahead,
’cause she’s allers ’round by the time I’ve earned a nickle. I spoke
’bout it to show he wasn’t frightened of me then.”

“Now don’t get riled,” Bob said soothingly. “You know jest as well as
we do, Sadie, that a feller like Bill wouldn’t want to have it told
’round the city that he’d been swellin’ down to Coney Island with a
girl, and I can’t blame him.”

“It doesn’t seem to hurt Josiah very much.”

“It’s different with him; he don’t live here.”

“Then I think it would be a good idea for Bill to stop out in the
country awhile,” Sadie replied; and the boy from Berry’s Corner,
fearing lest she might lose her temper, proposed, as the best means of
putting an end to the conversation, that they go to the museum at once.

Now, as a matter of fact, neither Bob nor Tom cared to be seen with
Sadie, lest some of their friends should accuse them of a desire to
“stick ’round where the girls were;” but they were very careful not to
let her fancy that such might be the case.

Inasmuch as she and Josiah started on ahead, they could walk a short
distance in the rear without seeming to belong to the party, and
neither was disposed to approach too near until they had arrived at the
door of the museum.

It is only proper to say, in defence of the position which the boys
assumed in the matter, that they had no idea of its being unmanly to
talk with the little match-girl, or to be seen in her company; but it
was the fear that their brother merchants might make sport of them,
which prevented the same amount of familiarity being displayed as when
they were at Coney Island.

It seemed as if Sadie would never tire of hearing Josiah tell about his
home in the country; and while they were walking up the Bowery, when he
would much have preferred looking in at the shop windows, she was so
persistent in her questions, that all his time was occupied in giving
the desired information.

She knew, quite as well as did Tom and Bob, where this particular
museum which they proposed to visit was located; therefore it was
not necessary for the young gentlemen from Baker’s Court to give any
instructions as to the course which should be pursued.

“Here’s the place,” she said as they halted in front of a broad
door-way half-filled with gaudy posters and photographs; “an’ after you
see this one, you won’t think the other show ’mounts to very much. Bill
Foss has been here more’n ten times, an’ says it’s perfectly gorgeous.”

Josiah made haste to purchase the tickets of admission, lest he should
miss some of the wonderful sights because of lack of time, and then
ushered his friends into what seemed like a place of enchantment.

On entering the main hall the first object which attracted his
attention was the fat lady; and he went directly up to her, regardless
of what his friends were doing.

Bob and Tom had stopped to look at some of the other attractions;
but Sadie kept very close to the boy from Berry’s Corner, for, since
through him she had enjoyed herself as never before, it was but natural
she should consider him a particular friend.

“She’s awful big, ain’t she?” Josiah said in what he intended should
be a whisper; but the lady referred to had no difficulty in hearing
the words, and smiled in a fat way upon the young visitor, in token of
appreciation.

“Yes she is, an’ I do wonder how she can get ’round the streets. Ain’t
her dress perfectly splendid? Do you s’pose that lace is real gold?”

“I reckon so; folks as big as she is must make a power of money showin’
theirselves.”

Again the fat lady smiled, and adjusted her red-silk robe, the skirt of
which came nearly to the top of a pair of silvered boots, in order that
the visitors might see the fabric more clearly.

“She’s bigger’n that woman down on Chatham Square,” Sadie suggested;
but in this Josiah could not agree with her.

“I don’t think so,” he said as he viewed the mountain of flesh
critically; and, from some unexplained cause, the great woman began to
frown. “I oughter know somethin’ ’bout such things, ’cause last fall I
guessed within four pounds on the weight of Deacon Parson’s hog, an’
that was two pounds nearer than anybody else could come. She’s a good
bit smaller than that other woman.”

“Little boy, are you talking about Madame Fragile, who is exhibiting
on Chatham Square?” the fat lady asked, inclining her gigantic head as
near Josiah as the pillow-like shoulders would permit.

The boy from Berry’s Corner was so surprised at hearing her speak, that
it was impossible to make any answer; and not until the question had
been repeated, did even Sadie venture to reply, when she said:--

“Yes’m, I guess that’s the one we mean; she’s in the Palace of Wonders
down there.”

“Then don’t make any mistake about the size, for I am nearly ten pounds
heavier than she is, and three-quarters of an inch larger around the
waist. She isn’t such a wonderful fat woman, and it has been conceded
by the best judges in the country that I am one of the greatest marvels
of the age.”

Then the lady balanced her head squarely on her shoulders once more,
gave an extra flirt to the short skirt in order to display the
embroidery to better advantage, and Josiah was awed.

That he had incurred the anger of such an enormous woman was very sad,
or, at least, he thought so; and his sorrow at having ventured an
opinion was increased when he saw her talking, as if on terms of the
greatest intimacy, with the giant.

Sadie understood that her friend was ill at ease; and she led him to
the platform occupied by the Circassian beauty, where he soon forgot
the injury to his feelings as he gazed in wonder and surprise at the
pink eyes and white hair of the alleged lovely “Zerlina.”

This time he was careful to make his comments in a tone so low that
the object of them could not by any possibility hear the words; but
he would have been treated with greater consideration had he spoken
plainly, since for her he had nothing but praise.

“Say, we mustn’t hang ’round here too long,” Bob said decidedly, as he
and Tom approached after having taken a hasty survey of all the marvels
in the room, “’cause the show will begin pretty soon, an’ we won’t get
any kind of seats if we don’t hurry.”

“But I haven’t looked at half the things here,” Josiah replied. “How’d
you finish so soon?”

“Oh, we’ve seen sich stuff so many times that there ain’t much fun in
it.”

“I’d rather have a good look at what’s here than to see a show like you
took me to the other evenin’.”

“But this’ll be different, ’cause there’s singin’ an’ dancin’, an’ all
that sort of thing.”

“It’ll be more’n an hour before I’d want to leave here.”

“The show’ll be done by that time,” Bob said in a tone of
disappointment.

“Why don’t you two go in, an’ leave Josiah an’ me here?” Sadie asked.
“I’ll take care he ain’t lost; an’ if we can’t get through in time to
see what’s on the stage, we’ll meet you outside.”

“That’s a good idea,” Tom said approvingly; “but you mustn’t stay too
long, ’cause the fellers’ll be waitin’ for us to go over to the dinner.”

“We’ll be through as soon as you are,” the match-girl said decidedly;
and, satisfied that there would be no delay, Tom and Bob hurried away.

“Now take just as much time as you want to see everything,” Sadie said
when the boys had left them. “They rush right through without lookin’
at half the things.”

“Why can’t they come here after the show is over?”

“’Cause when you go down them stairs, there’s no chance to get back.
You see, if it wasn’t so, folks could stay in here the whole day
without payin’ but once.”

Satisfied that he would not be interrupted, Josiah enjoyed himself
thoroughly, looking at the many odd things; but he took good care not
to go very near the platform on which was seated the fat lady, lest she
might have some more remarks to make about a boy who could not guess
nearer a lady’s weight than to suppose she was less of a curiosity than
Madame Fragile.

He gave no heed to the flight of time; and when Sadie suggested that
their friends might be waiting, he felt quite certain no more than half
an hour had elapsed since Tom and Bob left them.

“I know it’s been longer,” the match-girl replied, “’cause the doors
are open for another show, an’ that wouldn’t be done if the first one
hadn’t been finished.”

“I guess it’s the same crowd that was goin’ in a while ago,” Josiah
replied carelessly; and just then it was possible to hear, above the
noise of the street, a series of yells which apparently came from the
foot of the staircase by which they had entered this portion of the
building.

“That’s them, an’ they’ll be awful mad if we don’t go right down,”
Sadie whispered as she pulled her companion toward the door.

“Josiah! Josiah-ah-ah-ah!”

There was no mistaking the name, nor the voice which uttered it; and
the boy from Berry’s Corner made all haste to reach the street, for the
call was so imperative that he felt positive some accident had befallen
one of his friends.



CHAPTER XIII.

THE FEAST.


When Josiah and Sadie emerged from the building, one of the _attachés_
of the museum had just succeeded in driving Tom and Bob from the
entrance, to the street, and was standing on the sidewalk, shaking his
fist at them in a menacing manner.

“I’ll break every bone in your body if you come near this place agin!”
the man cried angrily; and Bob, dancing to and fro in front of him like
a marionette, the wires of which have been unskilfully pulled, replied
derisively:--

“Why don’t you come here an’ see what you can do? We’ve been inter your
old show, an’ paid our money for it like little men. Now there’s a chum
of ours inside, an’ we’re goin’ to get him out if it breaks the whole
thing up.”

“I’ll have a policeman here before you can wink.”

“Go ahead an’ try it! How do we know but you’ve got the feller shut up
in a cage, an’ are goin’ to pass him off for a wild man?”

“I wish I had you there for about a minute and a half!” and the man
made another unsuccessful effort to catch his tormentor.

“I’m all right!” Josiah cried, as he ran out on the sidewalk, fearing
lest his hosts might get into serious trouble on his account.

Just at that moment Bob failed to hear or see him, because he was
busily engaged trying to keep away from the angry man; and the result
was that in another instant Sadie and Josiah took part in what might
have been a case for the police, but for the fact that Tom chanced to
recognize them.

“It’s all right now, Bob!” he cried. “Come along, Josiah;” and he
started down the Bowery, while the employee of the museum, satisfied
that there would be no further disturbance, re-entered the building.

“What made you stay so long?” Bob asked when the four had put a safe
distance between themselves and the collection of wonders.

“It didn’t seem to me as if I’d been there half an hour when we heard
you shoutin’.”

“Well, it’s all right now, I reckon; but we must get on lively, or the
fellers will be tired of waitin’.”

“How long had you been hollerin’?”

“Not a great while. Jest as soon as we begun, that big chump come
out to drive us off; but if you hadn’t showed up we’d yelled a spell
longer, whether he liked it or not.”

“Don’t stop to chin now,” Tom said impatiently. “We can’t ’ford to fool
’round a great while, an’ a swell dinner waitin’ for us to eat it.
Where’s Sadie goin’?”

“I’ll stop off at the old corner,” the match-girl replied quickly. “I
s’pose you’ll pass it?”

“Yes, it’s jest ’bout as near. Now keep close to us, for we don’t want
any more funny business of gettin’ lost.”

Josiah and his companion were careful to remain immediately in the rear
of Bob and Tom, although at times it was necessary almost to run, so
rapidly did the two merchants walk.

“I wish you was goin’ with us, Sadie,” the young gentleman said, when
a throng on the sidewalk forced the leaders to come to a partial halt.

“So do I; but of course there’s no chance for anything of that kind.
Yesterday oughter be enough to last me a year. I never had such a
splendid time in all my life, even if we did get lost.”

“P’rhaps you’ll see a good many like that before long,” Josiah replied,
and then checked himself suddenly, as if he had been on the point of
saying something which should be kept a secret.

“That’s a big p’rhaps,” Sadie said with a laugh which was very like a
sob. “There ain’t many in this city what think of givin’ a girl like me
a good time, an’ you’re goin’ off so soon that I won’t even so much as
hear of dime museums or restaurants with fifteen-cent dinners.”

“You mustn’t go to feelin’ bad, ’cause things’ll come ’round right
somehow.”

“Of course they will, an’ even if they don’t, I’ve been to Coney
Island, an’ all them places, so when it ain’t very jolly, I’ll think of
what I have had, ’an there’ll be a heap of satisfaction in that.”

Now the party had arrived at the corner where Sadie spent her time
trying to sell matches, and Josiah cried:--

“If we get back before dark, I’ll see you to-night.”

“There ain’t much chance of that; but I’ll be here in the mornin’.”

“Come on!” Bob shouted, “I reckon them fellers are jest ’bout wild
’cause we didn’t get there before.”

Josiah was forced to run now in good earnest, and Sadie was left on the
corner looking after them very seriously until they were lost to view
in the distance.

Tom and Bob continued on at a rapid pace, slackening the speed only
when it was absolutely necessary, and on arriving at the rendezvous
found eight of Tom’s and Bob’s friends, who had been waiting with every
evidence of impatience.

Bill Foss was among the number, as was very proper since he had been
selected to fill the responsible position of Master of Ceremonies, and
Josiah fancied his unusual show of good-humor and friendship arose from
the fact that he was ashamed of his behavior on the previous day.

He greeted the country boy with a warmth which was hardly warranted
in view of the fact that they had been acquainted such a short time,
and introduced him in the most friendly manner to each of the young
gentlemen who had done their share toward buying materials for the
feast.

“Where’s Saunder’s boat layin’?” Bob asked, as he saw that every boy
had a package under his arm, thus showing he was ready to proceed to
the meeting place.

“Down here by the dock,” Bill replied. “We would have had her ready
before this; but Sim Jones an’ his gang are ’round there, an’ we didn’t
want ’em to see where we was goin’.”

“You ain’t ’fraid of them, are you?” Tom asked quickly.

“Indeed we ain’t; but you see there’s no need of gettin’ up a row
now, ’cause we haven’t any more time than we want to spend in the
canal-boat. I’ve jest come over from there, an’ I’ll tell you she’s
fixed great! We’ve bought a lot of candles, so needn’t come back till
we get ready.”

At this point Jimmy Skip went out to reconnoitre, and on his return
reported that Sim Jones and his friends were no longer to be seen,
consequently there was nothing to cause the would-be feasters any
further delay.

The boat which had been borrowed did not appear to be very staunch, and
certainly was not cleanly.

She was about one-third full of water, and it was necessary this should
be removed before the party went on board, otherwise the craft would
have been swamped by the additional cargo, therefore, with two tomato
cans as bailing dishes, Jimmy and Bill went to work.

Ten minutes later everything was ready for the departure.

Bill brought a pair of oars from its hiding-place on the dock, and the
boys clambered on board with the greatest care in seating themselves
that every inch of space might be economized.

The merry-makers had worked silently to prevent the possibility of
being overheard by any of Sim’s party, and in perfect silence they
pushed out past the pier, Bob and Tom plying the oars when they were
once in the stream.

It was not an eventful, but rather a long voyage to the Erie Basin,
where the craft which was to serve as banquet-hall was lying.

Built after the fashion of other canal-boats, there was nothing
particularly prepossessing in appearance as viewed from the outside,
and Josiah thought they had taken a great amount of trouble in order to
reach an undesirable place for the festivities.

“Wait till you see the cabin,” Bill said, much as if he read by the
expression on their guest’s face the misgivings in his mind. “I have
fixed her in great shape, an’ after we get inside, with the boat pulled
under the pier, Sim Foss can sneak ’round all he wants to without
findin’ where we are.”

Josiah soon learned that at least a portion of Bill’s statement was
correct, although he failed to see any evidences of the “fixin’.”

The cabin was apparently as the owners of the boat had left it, save
for four empty bottles in one corner; and these, Master Foss explained,
had been brought to serve as candlesticks.

That they would be free from the scrutiny of any one who chanced to
pass that way seemed positive, when the hatch was drawn, and the
interior of the stuffy cabin shrouded in darkness.

Jimmy took from his pocket a fragment of candle, and lighting it,
placed it in one of the bottles, after which he awaited the coming of
Bill, who had remained behind in order to hide the boat from view.

Josiah seated himself on the locker which ran across one end of the
tiny apartment, and looked around wondering how the arrangements for
any very elaborate feast could be made in that place.

It did not seem to him that the cabin was as appropriate an apartment
for a gathering such as it was intended this should be, as many others
which might have been selected.

The odor of bilge-water from the hold; the dust which covered every
portion of the wood-work to the depth of at least half an inch; and the
general air of decay everywhere apparent, caused him to feel gloomy
rather than happy.

The remainder of the party, however, were not troubled with any such
sentiments.

According to their ideas this was the jolliest kind of a place in which
to spend a few hours, and Jimmy Skip regretted that the scheme had not
been devised sufficiently early to admit of their making arrangements
to remain at least one night in such a snug hiding-place.

“We could have done it jest as easy as not,” he said, “if we’d started
in yesterday mornin’. Then when you fellers got back from Coney Island
you mighter come right here, an’ we’d had supper ready. I wonder if
your father wouldn’t stay over a day, Josiah, so’s to give us a chance
of tryin’ the snap?”

“I don’t believe he would,” was the prompt reply, for Master Shindle
had no desire to remain where he was any longer than should be
absolutely necessary.

At the expiration of ten minutes Bill Foss returned, and announced with
the air of one who brings important news:--

“I’ve got the boat now where she can’t be seen, no matter how many
people are foolin’ ’round, an’ do you know I believe Sim an’ his gang
are jest comin’ across! There’s a crowd leavin’ Pier Eight, an’ I’ll
bet it’s them.”

“Well, let ’em come,” Bob said carelessly. “If you’ve hid our boat,
they won’t make much by snoopin’ round here; an’ we’ve only got to
keep still so’s folks can’t hear us. Now, what are you goin’ to do
with the things?”

“The stuff to eat, do you mean?”

“Yes; where you goin’ to put it?”

“Right over where Josiah’s settin’. We can spread all the papers down,
an’ they’ll be jest as good as a table-cloth. Now come on, fellers,
let’s see what you’ve brought;” and Billy proceeded to further
illuminate the cabin by placing a lighted candle in the neck of each of
the remaining bottles.

In a very few moments the delicacies were spread on the locker, ready
for the feasters to begin operations.

There was no reason to complain of lack of quantity or variety.

Jimmy Skip had brought two pounds of bologna, cut in substantial
slices; Bill Foss, in addition to the candles, contributed a large
number of crullers and a quart of peanuts; Tim Murray added to the
collection three dozen pickled sheep’s tongues; and, by consulting with
his friends, each fellow had been able to secure some dainty different
from the others, therefore the assortment was as great as there were
members of the party.

“It looks as if you fellers was feelin’ pretty hungry,” Josiah said, as
he surveyed the ample supply of food.

“We didn’t have any dinner to-day, you see, ’cause we was kinder
waitin’ for this thing; an’ I reckon that stuff’ll look sick by the
time we get through with it,” Bill said, as he began to arrange the
eatables in what he intended should be a most appetizing manner.

He had hardly commenced his work when a noise was heard from the deck,
as if several persons had leaped suddenly down from the pier; and the
would-be feasters looked at each other in surprise, not unmixed with
alarm.

“We’ve got to keep mighty still,” Bill whispered, “’cause somebody’s
down here, an’ we must find out who it is.”

“But s’posen they’re gettin’ ready to haul the boat away?” Tom
suggested in the same cautious tone. “We should be in a fine fix if we
got towed up the river ten or fifteen miles, wouldn’t we?”

This was a contingency for which Master Foss had made no provision; and
as the possibility of such a change of location presented itself, he
in turn began to grow alarmed.

“We’ll have to find out who’s there,” he said, after a brief pause.
“You fellers keep quiet, an’ I’ll see if I can peek through the cracks
in the hatch.”

Bill soon learned that this was an impossibility; and, since the noise
was not repeated, he believed it safe to venture out.

“There isn’t anybody up here,” he said, after gazing around an instant.

“They must be out on the dock: you wanter look careful, ’cause if Sim
Jones’s crowd should be anywhere ’round they might make trouble.”

As Bob spoke he ascended the companion-way, followed by the others;
and during ten minutes the feasters remained on deck, while Bill and
Jimmy scoured the immediate vicinity in a fruitless search for possible
mischief-makers.

While the investigation was being made on shore, every one was so
intent on satisfying himself the work was done in a thorough manner,
that no attention was paid to a slight noise from the cabin, as if the
stern windows had been raised.

Therefore it was without question of any mischief having been done,
that Bill led the way below once more, convinced they were in no danger
of an interruption.

Hardly had he gained the cabin when a cry of dismay burst from his
lips; and, as if unable to speak, he stood pointing toward the locker,
on which, but a few moments previous, had been placed the materials for
the proposed dinner.

“Where’s the stuff gone?” Bob cried in astonishment, pressing forward
as if thinking the wrappings, which was all that had been left behind,
might give some clew to the whereabouts of the provisions.

“What’s the matter?” Josiah asked from the top of the companion-way, it
not having yet been possible for him to descend because of the crowd at
the foot of the stairs.

“Matter!” Bob wailed; “why, somebody’s gone an’ stole everything while
we was on deck; an’ how they coulder got away is what puzzles me! There
ain’t so much as a single peanut left!”

Josiah was so unnerved by the sad tidings that in attempting to descend
he fell the entire length of the stairs; and when the confusion
attendant upon the accident had subsided, the boys began a thorough
search for the missing dainties.

“While we were on deck somebody crawled through that window,” Tom said,
as he pointed to the footprints which could be seen in the dust from
the ledge to the locker.

“It’s Sim Jones, that’s who it is!” Bill cried, as he ran on deck;
and an instant later his suspicions were verified by seeing the young
gentleman in question, together with four of his friends, rowing
hurriedly out of the basin.



CHAPTER XIV.

THE PURSUIT.


The first impulse of the angry givers of the feast was to start in
pursuit of the thieves; and Bill Foss had begun to clamber out on the
dock in order to get the boat, when Bob stopped him by saying:--

“Hold on! It’s no use to do that! We couldn’t catch ’em now with only
one pair of oars, for they’ve got too much of a start. The best way
will be to lay for ’em to-night over on the other side.”

“But they’ve stole all our grub!” Bill replied angrily as he halted,
“an’ if we wait two or three hours there’ll never be a chance of
gettin’ it back.”

“There’s no show of catchin’ them anyhow, so what’s the use of pullin’
all ’round the river for nothin’?”

By this time Bill began to realize that pursuit would be useless, and
he came back to where his companions were standing as if dazed by the
bold outrage.

“I knew it was Sim Jones gettin’ into that boat on the other side jest
before I came below; but what beats me is, how he found out where we
was? He must have follered me this afternoon.”

“I don’t reckon there was any need of that,” Tom added. “They could see
us all the time while we were comin’ over, an’ after you got inside I
reckon they rowed mighty hard. It wouldn’t be a great job to sneak up
under the stern of this boat, an’ then, while one of the fellers made
a noise on deck, the others crawled in through the windows. That’s the
way of it.”

There was but little satisfaction in thus settling the method of the
robbery; and Bill asked impatiently as he looked at each of his friends
in turn:--

“What’er we goin’ to do ’bout it? Seems pretty tough to let them
fellers break our good time up when we’ve counted on stayin’ here all
the afternoon an’ evenin’. There won’t be any fun loafin’ ’round with
nothin’ to eat.”

“S’posen all hands of us go ashore an’ buy somethin’ more?” Jimmy
suggested. “We ain’t got the cash to get so much as we had before; but
what we can scare up’ll be better’n nothin’.”

Bob and Tom looked at each other in dismay.

They had spent all their surplus money on the trip to Coney Island, and
had no more than enough to buy their supply of papers when Josiah’s
visit should have come to an end and they resumed work once more.

Therefore it was impossible for them to act upon Jimmy’s suggestion,
and at the same time they felt decidedly awkward in refusing.

It seemed as if Master Skip could read their thoughts, for he added
almost immediately:--

“We don’t expect you two fellers to buy anything. We started to get up
a reg’lar dinner here, an’ are goin’ to do it ourselves, or go without
any.”

“Bob an’ I would like to chip in our share if we had the cash; but we
was flyin’ kinder high yesterday, an’ are mighty nigh broke now.”

This remark served as a reminder to Bill Foss that he accepted the
hospitality of these two on the previous day, and at the same time had
acted decidedly disagreeable. Therefore, in order to make amends, he
very quickly adopted Jimmy’s plan.

“Come along,” he said as he clambered on the dock once more. “If we’re
goin’ to do the thing there’s no use foolin’ ’round, an’ after we’ve
had our time out, all hands of us’ll go for Sim Jones an’ his crowd.”

The other subscribers to the feast followed him without delay, and the
young gentlemen from Baker’s Court were left to “keep ship” until their
companions returned.

“It’s kinder tough for them to put out all the money,” Tom said
reflectively; “but I don’t see how we can help it.”

“I mighter done my share,” Josiah replied thoughtfully; “but I wanted
to save what I had to get presents for father an’ mother, an’ I’d
rather do that than have anything to eat.”

“There’s no use talkin’ about it,” Tom said, more than willing to put
the very unpleasant subject from his mind. “If them fellers invited us
here, it was ’cause they wanted us, an’ now they can go ahead an’ do
as they please. Some other time we’ll get even with ’em. I wish I’d
thumped Sim Jones when I had a chance this mornin’. It seemed to me
that I oughter done it.”

“Why, what was he doin’?” Josiah asked.

“Nothin’, only kinder lookin’ as if he was tryin’ some mischief. He
acted too sweet, that’s what’s the matter with him; an’ when Sim gets
on such a face you wanter watch out for him.”

“Do you s’pose the other fellers will catch him?” Josiah asked.

“Course they will! I’d agree to set up all night rather’n lose the
chance of payin’ him off for what he’s done,” and Bob shook his fist in
impotent rage toward that point where the thieves had last been seen.

Then the hosts returned, each carrying a parcel, and once more the
locker was covered with a varied collection of dainties.

“There!” Bill said, when he had arranged the provision on the impromptu
table to his entire satisfaction. “We won’t leave this place agin with
so much stuff spread out, if every feller in Jersey jumps on the deck.
They sha’n’t fool us twice in the same way. I reckon Sim was mad ’cause
we didn’t invite him to chip in with us, an’ that’s why he got away
with the dinner.”

There was no delay in beginning the feast after it had been made ready.

Bill invited the guests to commence, by saying, with a majestic wave of
his hand toward the locker:--

“Pitch right in, fellers, an’ fill yourselves up. This ain’t no
twenty-five cent chowder at Coney Island; but I’ll bet you’ll feel a
good deal better when you get through with it than we did down there
yesterday.”

During the next fifteen minutes but little conversation was indulged
in, for every boy seemed to think it his solemn duty to eat as fast and
as much as possible.

Josiah was the first to retire from what seemed very like a contest,
and then one by one the others fell out until the feast had come to an
end.

Bill added to the illumination of the cabin by lighting the entire
stock of candles, and then, as a fitting finale to the festival,
produced a package of cigarettes.

“Don’t you smoke?” he asked, as Josiah refused the proffered tobacco.

“I promised mother I wouldn’t, so you see I can’t,” the boy from
Berry’s Corner replied, and the other guests looked at each other as
if they thought there was something comical in the reply; but no one
ventured to laugh.

Josiah was the only member of the party who did not indulge in smoking;
and the result was that in a short time the cabin, closed as it had
been to prevent intrusion, was filled with the pungent odor, greatly to
the annoyance of the boy from the country.

He did his best to hold out against the noisome vapor, lest by making
a complaint he should bring the party, arranged in his honor, to
an untimely end; but when the hosts lighted their second supply of
cigarettes, it was impossible for him to remain silent.

“I guess while you fellers are smokin’ I’ll go up on deck, an’ look
’round. I never saw a canal-boat before, an’ this is a good chance.”

“Don’t feel sick, do you?” Tom asked solicitously.

“No, not exactly; but I’d rather go up-stairs.”

“Too much smoke here, that’s what’s the matter,” Bill Foss said
pityingly, as if pained because the boy for whom the feast had been
particularly prepared was not sufficiently hearty to indulge in the
alleged pleasures of men of the world like himself.

Josiah did not venture into the cabin again, but, after filling his
lungs with fresh air, seated himself at the head of the stairs where he
could hear what was being said by his friends below, and also take part
in the conversation.

It seemed to him a very long while before the young gentlemen were
willing to leave the scene of the festivities; and they might have
remained much longer, to his discomfort and disquietude, had there been
a larger stock of cigarettes on hand.

As it was, however, when the tobacco was exhausted, the cabin of the
craft had no further attraction for the merry-makers; and Bill said as
he rose to his feet:--

“Come on, fellers, we might as well start for Sim Jones now. It won’t
do to wait too long, for fear he’ll sneak off home.”

The chase for the boy who had robbed them offered quite as many
inducements in the way of pleasure as an additional supply of
cigarettes would have done, therefore no objection was made to the
proposition; and, five minutes later, all the party were on board the
leaking boat, pulling rapidly toward the New York side of the river,
leaving behind them only the fragments of candle and the offensive odor
of tobacco.

As a starting-point for the search, it was decided to go directly to
the pier from which Bill believed he had seen Sim leave for the Jersey
shore; and there was found the boat in which he had probably rowed
across to the basin, but with her ended all clew to the direction taken
by the thieves.

Master Foss was too good a general to allow anything of this kind to
distress him. In fact, he rather prided himself on his abilities as an
amateur detective, and lost no time in making what he believed to be a
proper disposal of his party.

Two of the boys were sent toward the Battery, two more in the opposite
direction, and the remainder ordered to proceed toward City Hall Square.

Bill’s instructions to his subordinates could hardly be mistaken, so
simple and expressive were they.

“Keep right on huntin’ till you find ’em, an’ then come down to Dick
Murray’s stand where I’ll be waitin’. Don’t let them know you wanter
get hold of ’em; but scoot back so’s all hands of us can do the rest
of the job. We need the whole crowd, ’cause there ain’t less’n five in
their gang.”

Being unacquainted with the city, Josiah was allowed to remain with the
leader of the forces; and when the scouts had set out, Bill conducted
the boy from Berry’s Corner to the rendezvous.

Dick Murray, who had arrived at the dignity of owning a newsstand only
a few months previous, was a friend of all those who were so eagerly
searching for Sim Jones, and at once made the new-comers welcome by
inviting them into the tiny apartment which he occupied during very
cold weather.

“Sim Jones is goin’ to get hisself inter trouble some of these fine
days,” Dick said, shaking his head sagely. “That feller’s actin’
altogether too smart.”

“In case we catch him to-night, he’ll be in trouble mighty soon,” Bill
replied with a show of anger. “If he thinks he can steal things the
way he did this afternoon, an’ then get off without a thump, he’s
mistaken. I ain’t got much time to hunt ’round for sich as him; but I
sha’n’t go to sellin’ papers agin till this thing is squared.”

“The trouble is, Bill, he’s got his gang with him, an’ you know it
won’t do to have a row on the street, ’cause you wouldn’t wanter get
locked up.”

“I’d like to see the cop what could catch me, if I knew he was comin’,”
Master Foss replied.

Then he proceeded to tell a long yarn about an encounter he once had
with some newsboys from Brooklyn, which was interrupted by the police,
when only his legs saved him from arrest.

By the time this story, in which Master Foss posed as a hero of the
first water, was concluded, Tom arrived, breathless from rapid running.

“All that crowd are down by the Vesey Street Market now, an’ they’ve
got a good deal of the stuff with ’em. If our fellers would only come
in this minute, it wouldn’t take us a great while to clean out the
whole gang.”

Bill was immediately plunged into a state of the greatest excitement,
and but for the fact that Sim’s party numbered five, he would have
insisted on making the captures single-handed.

“We’ll have to wait, I reckon,” he said with a sigh, “an’ it’ll be jest
our luck to find ’em gone when we get there.”

If “luck” had any part in this evening’s doings, then it certainly
favored Master Foss; for in less than five minutes from the time Tom
arrived, every member of the party returned to report his inability to
find the boy who had attempted to destroy their pleasure.

Bill did not wait to give the new-comers any particulars regarding the
information brought by Tom; but simply commanded them to “foller the
best they knew how,” and set off at a rapid pace with Tom and Josiah by
his side.

Upon reaching a point a short distance from where the evil-disposed
crowd was supposed to be, the leader of the force halted, and thus
mapped out the plan of battle:--

“We’ll sneak right up on ’em, so’s they won’t hear a thing, an’ then
make a rush. I’d like to tie their hands, an’ leave ’em on the sidewalk
till most mornin’. I reckon that would serve ’em out for stealin’ the
grub. Now come on!”

The attack was successful so far as surprising the enemy was concerned,
but the captures were not made as readily as Bill had fancied.

Sim and his friends, knowing full well the possibility of pursuit and
an attempt at punishment, were prepared for just such an onslaught;
and the result was that instantly Bill’s force appeared, each of the
plunderers was ready to defend himself to the utmost.

As a matter of course, a pitched and exciting battle ensued.

Josiah, to whom no orders had been given, save in a general way when
Master Foss instructed all the party on their duties, felt it incumbent
upon himself to assist his friends, and the first blow had hardly been
delivered when he was in the thickest of the fray, receiving more in
the way of punishment than it was possible for him to return.

It appeared as if Sim and his friends had some especial cause for
complaint against this boy from the country, and were doing their
utmost to pummel him, while they paid but little attention to the
others.

It was just at the moment when Josiah began to realize he had placed
himself in a very awkward position, that the fight was stopped as if by
magic, at the cry:--

“Cops! Cops!”

It was Jimmy Skip who gave the alarm; being too small to make much of
a show as a belligerent, he had assumed the part of sentinel to guard
against just such a danger.

“Come on!” Tom shouted; and Josiah, not a little bewildered by the
suddenness with which his friends departed, each in a different
direction, stood motionless, unable to so much as take a single step.

He heard Tom and Bob shouting from a distance, and yet paid no
attention to anything until a heavy hand was laid upon his shoulder,
and, looking around quickly, discovered that he was in the clutch of a
burly policeman who appeared far from friendly.



CHAPTER XV.

THE ARREST.


Josiah’s bewilderment was soon turned to alarm.

Although never having been in the city before, he understood thoroughly
well that he was under arrest; and the idea of being taken to jail was
to him something so terrible, that he trembled as if with an ague fit.

“Why is it you little rascals can’t get along without fighting?” the
officer asked, shaking the boy from Berry’s Corner, as if to render his
words more emphatic.

“I didn’t mean to fight; leastways it didn’t seem as though I was doin’
it, till all the crowd got together,” Josiah replied in a tremulous
tone.

“Oh, you didn’t, eh? I s’pose you wanter make out that somebody wound
you up, and you couldn’t help yourself? I’ve had my eye on you, young
feller, for a good many weeks, and don’t believe you’ll trouble me any
more.”

“It couldn’t have been so long as that,” Josiah replied almost boldly,
now that his presence of mind was returning. “I didn’t get inter the
city till last Monday, so I reckon you must have made a mistake.
Besides, I’m goin’ home to-morrow.”

“I hardly believe you will. If you don’t get a chance in the
Reformatory this time, it’ll be odd. You can’t play off that old dodge
’bout not livin’ in the city, with me; I’ve known you too long.”

“But it’s the truth, all the same;” and fancying he was mistaken for
some other boy, Josiah’s alarm increased once more.

The word “reformatory” had an ugly sound to him; and instantly it had
been uttered there came into his mind a picture of a horrible dungeon
which he, loaded with chains, would occupy for an indefinite time.

Even had he been disposed to say anything more, there was no
opportunity for him to do so.

[Illustration]

The man pulled him roughly along by the coat collar in such a manner as
to cause him considerable discomfort and no little pain, and he felt
that it would be many weeks, perhaps years, before he again saw Berry’s
Corner.

The officer and his prisoner had hardly got a dozen yards from the
battle-field when Josiah’s friends came in sight, taking good care,
however, to remain at a respectful distance from the policeman, who
made several attempts as if to capture them.

“Don’t be afraid, we’ll see you out of the scrape,” Josiah heard Bob
cry; and from that time until they reached the station-house, he was
followed by similar injunctions from different members of the party,
each of whom seemed to consider the words necessary, in order that the
prisoner might not lose courage.

Nothing short of absolute liberty could have revived Master Shindle’s
spirits while he was in the embrace of the strong arm of the law.

Although both Tom and Bob assured him they would “see him through all
right,” he had a clear idea that their influence must be very slight in
the premises.

At the entrance to the station-house, Bob motioned for his friends to
halt as the prisoner and his captor disappeared behind the heavy door,
and then said in a low but earnest tone:--

“See here, fellers, it won’t do to let Josiah stay there, even if all
of us has to go down to the Island for a month. His father would be
pretty nigh crazy if he knew his son was arrested, an’ we’ve got to get
him out somehow.”

“How you goin’ to do it?” Tom asked anxiously.

“S’posen we wait till that cop comes out, an’ then all hands sneak in
and tell the officer in charge jest how it happened? If we agree to
take Josiah’s place, he oughter let him go.”

“What do you wait till the policeman leaves for? Why wouldn’t it be
better to do the talkin’ now?”

“’Cause that feller’s down on the boys what hang ’round the market, an’
jest as like’s not he’d take us all in.”

It was not necessary they should wait very long for the officer. He
had made the charge, and then, his responsibility having ceased, was
returning to his beat as soon as possible.

The boys were careful not to impede his progress, and when he emerged
from the station-house they were hidden from view; but three minutes
later, when the sound of his retreating footsteps told that he had
turned the corner, all re-appeared once more, ready to rescue their
unfortunate companion, if it could be done with no other weapons than
their tongues.

Master Foss did not attempt to longer act the part of leader.

The situation was so grave that he understood he was not competent to
deal with it in a proper manner, and to Bob was given the management of
the entire affair.

Master Green entered the station-house, his friends following close
behind, with a more subdued air than he had worn when explaining what
might be done. The very atmosphere of the place seemed to oppress him,
and it was an exceedingly humble boy who presented himself to the
sergeant at the desk, trying to render his voice steady as he said
hesitatingly:--

“Look here, Mister, that cop just brought in a feller from the country
what wasn’t doin’ any harm, an’ we’ve come to see if we can’t get him
out.”

“Oh, wasn’t doin’ any harm, eh? The officer brought him here just
because of that?”

“That’s the truth of it,” Bob replied firmly. “Us fellers got into a
row with Sim Jones’ crowd ’cause they stole our grub, an’ Josiah was
along, so he pitched in, of course. It wasn’t his fight; but he was
helpin’ his friends, do you see?”

“Yes, I see. He was fighting, and so were you, according to your story.”

“That’s it, that’s jest it,” Bob said eagerly; and now Tom came forward
by his partner’s side, as if thinking it might strengthen the cause.
“We’re the ones what made all the trouble, an’ you oughter ’rest us
instead of him. Why, look here, Mister, that feller’s father’s comin’
here to-morrow mornin’ to take him home, an’ what kind of a scrape will
the old man be in when he finds his boy locked up in jail?”

“His boy should avoid making trouble for his father, by not fighting.”

“I’ve jest told you it didn’t happen that way. We started the row, an’
I s’pose he couldn’t help hisself, so he got into the fuss. You see, he
didn’t seem to know what was meant when we hollered ‘cops!’; but stood
still like a chump till the officer had him by the back of the neck. If
he’d belonged in the city, that big feller never’d caught him; but he
was green, an’ now we want you to let him go.”

It was evident the sergeant was interested; but whether because of
Josiah’s unfortunate position, or the earnestness of the boy before
him, it would have been difficult to say.

At all events, instead of dismissing the young pleader, as probably
would have been done under other circumstances, he condescended to
argue with him.

“Do you think when an arrest has been made that we can let the prisoner
go, or keep him here, just as we please?”

“What’s to hinder?”

“The station-house is only intended for the reception of prisoners
during the night, until they can be taken to court; and when a person
is committed, it is necessary for us to show him up in the morning, or
get ourselves into trouble.”

“But what’s the sense of keepin’ Josiah when he oughter go home?”

“Because we must have a prisoner to answer to his name.”

“Then we can fix that easy enough,” and Bob looked decidedly relieved.
“You let him go, an’ I’ll go back in his place. When I come inter court
termorrer mornin’, it’ll take more’n one cop to find out my name ain’t
Josiah Shindle.”

“In other words, you want me to assist in the escape of a prisoner?”

“No, I don’t. Jest make a swap, that’s all. What’s the sense of
sendin’ a boy like him down to the Island? He’s so green he couldn’t
do anything; but they’d get a pile of work outer me, an’ it would be
better all ’round. Besides, if one ain’t enough, the whole of us’ll go
in, won’t we, fellers?”

At this appeal, the entire party ranged themselves in front of the
sergeant.

Then each in turn announced his willingness to submit to imprisonment
for any indefinite period, provided the boy from Berry’s Corner was
allowed to go free.

The sergeant looked at them scrutinizingly, and called for the turnkey,
saying as that functionary appeared:--

“You can lock these boys up, and let the youngster you just carried
down-stairs go. They want to make a swap. It seems to be a good trade
when we’re getting ten for one.”

The turnkey did not appear to understand the matter, and while he stood
in the door-way hesitatingly, Josiah’s substitutes marched boldly
toward him.

Before they reached the door, however, the sergeant called them back,
and asked his subordinate:--

“Did you lock that boy up who was brought in a few moments ago?”

“Not yet, sir. Your orders were to let him run loose.”

“Very well. Bring him here. I didn’t enter his name on the books, so I
don’t fancy there’ll be any trouble in making the exchange for which
these young gentlemen are so anxious.”

A few moments later Josiah, looking very pale and thoroughly
frightened, was ushered into the room.

A cry of surprise and joy burst from his lips as he saw his friends.

“You can take him away with you,” the sergeant said, “and I don’t fancy
it will be necessary for any of the party to stay in his place; but
remember this: If either of you are brought here within the next six
months on a charge of fighting, I shall do all I can to have it go hard
with the offender. I want you to promise to keep away from the Vesey
Street Market, unless it should be necessary to visit that place on
business.”

It can readily be understood how gladly Josiah’s friends promised to do
as the officer wished, and in the shortest possible time afterward they
took their departure, each mentally congratulating himself that he was
not to spend the night in a cell in the station-house.

“Now, that’s what I call doin’ the thing in great shape,” Bill Foss
said when they were on the sidewalk once more. “It looked one time as
if Josiah was goin’ to see more of New York than he wanted.”

“I guess it would jest about have killed father if he’d found me in
jail when he came,” the boy from the country said half to himself; “an’
I’m glad he’ll be here to-morrow mornin’, cause I’ve got all the city I
need.”

“Now, don’t let a little thing like that trouble you,” Bob said
soothingly. “It doesn’t ’mount to anything.”

“But I reckon it would if it hadn’t been for you,” Bill Foss replied
emphatically.

“I didn’t cut much of a figger in it, an’ if I did, it wasn’t any
more’n Josiah would ’a done for me; so what’s the use of makin’ all
this talk?”

Then Bob changed the conversation by asking if any of the party
had noticed in which direction Sim and his friends fled; and in a
few moments all, with the exception of Josiah, were deeply engaged
discussing the probability of their being able, at some future time,
to mete out the proper amount of punishment to those who attempted to
destroy the pleasure of the afternoon.

Josiah took no part in the conversation because of his mental troubles.
Although he had escaped from a prison cell so readily, he was fully
alive to the fact of what his fate might have been but for his friends;
and it seemed now as if he was in danger of being re-arrested every
moment he remained in the city, until the arrival of his father.

It is more than probable he would have returned home without waiting
for the morning, had such a thing been possible; but since that could
not be, the only place of refuge was Baker’s Court, which point he
wished to gain at the earliest convenient hour.

So impatient was he that it seemed a long while before his friends were
ready to separate for the night; and once alone with Tom and Bob, he
urged them to make all speed toward the court.

“Why, it looks like as if you was still ’fraid of bein’ ’rested,” Tom
said laughingly.

“Well, I am,” was the candid reply. “You see, I never thought anything
like that could happen, an’ now I’ve had such good proof, it don’t seem
safe to stay out on the street. Besides, I’m tired, an’ the sooner we
go back the sooner we’ll get to bed.”

Bob and Tom did not delay after understanding how their friend felt;
and, half an hour later, the three were in the tiny chamber at Baker’s
Court, Josiah congratulating himself over and over again upon the fact
that this was the last night he would be obliged to remain in the city.



CHAPTER XVI.

THE COUPON.


Mrs. Bartlett had not yet called the boys to breakfast, when Master
Foss and his companions of the previous day arrived at the court to
escort Josiah to the ferry where he was to meet his father.

“You see, I was ’fraid you fellers might take Josiah off where we
couldn’t find you, if we waited much longer,” Bill said when Tom
explained why he could not invite the party into the house.

“But he ain’t thinkin’ of goin’ home till night,” Master Bartlett
replied in surprise.

“I know that; but we wanter go down to the ferry with him. You know a
lot of us are countin’ on visitin’ his farm next summer, an’ it won’t
do any harm if we see the old man.”

“But look here, Bill, you mustn’t foller us ’round all day, for I
don’t b’lieve Mr. Shindle would like it.”

“Oh, we don’t ’low to do that. Jest wanter get ’quainted with the
farmer. We’ll take a sneak when you come ’cross the ferry.”

“All right. Wait here, an’ as soon’s breakfast is over we’ll be down.”

Then Tom re-entered the house without telling Josiah of the escort
which had arrived.

The boy from Berry’s Corner was deeply engaged in packing the well-worn
valise, and counting his money in order to see how much he might spend
in purchasing the presents for his father and mother.

He was happier now than he had been on the Monday morning previous;
for, although charmed to a certain degree with the city, he preferred
to live in the country, and was decidedly impatient to be at Berry’s
Corner again, where there would be no danger of another arrest.

Life in New York no longer had any charms for him. He had seen Bob and
Tom at work, and felt certain that next summer when called upon to
weed the long rows of carrots, the task would seem less laborious as
compared with theirs, and decidedly more pleasant.

The city was so big, the throngs of people on the street so intent on
their own business without apparently being able to bestow a thought
upon others, and the noise so wearying and bewildering, that it would
be very pleasant to stand once more by the side of the long, dusty road
which stretched away in the distance, like a yellow ribbon between the
green and nodding trees.

Fishing for chubs in the laughing, sparkling brook was much more
delightful than peering through the shop windows at things which he
wanted but could not purchase, and romping in the back pasture with
Towser was more like sport than an hour spent on the street in the
vicinity of Baker’s Court.

In addition to his desire to be at home once more, was the fact that
when his father arrived a certain scheme, to which he had given no
slight amount of thought, might possibly be put into execution.

Therefore his heart was very light when, with valise in hand, he
entered the stuffy kitchen of Mrs. Bartlett’s home for the last time.

After the meal came to an end, Bob said laughingly, as he went toward
the window:--

“Look out here.”

Josiah obeyed, and saw ranged either side of the court, in true
military precision, ten boys headed by Master Foss, all of them
standing with their eyes fixed upon the door of the building.

“What are they doin’ here?” Josiah asked in surprise. “Bill don’t think
that we’ve got time to go anywhere with him, does he?”

“Oh, no, he’s only come to ’scort you down to the ferry in style.”

Josiah looked distressed.

Since his experience in the station-house he did not wish to attract
any more attention than was absolutely necessary, and was eager only to
meet his father in the quietest possible manner.

“I think it would be a good deal better if we should go alone,” he said
after a long pause.

“So do I; but there don’t seem to be any way out of it. Bill is
reckonin’ on doin’ this thing in great shape, an’ I s’pose we’ll have
to let him run it, ’less you’re willin’ to tell him right up an’ up
that we oughter go alone.”

“I wouldn’t like to do that,” Josiah replied slowly.

“Neither would I.”

“What’er we goin’ to do ’bout it?”

“You’d better go down, an’ see what he’s got to say. P’rhaps there’ll
be some way outer it.”

Josiah, followed by Tom and Bob, descended to the court, and instantly
the former appeared, a loud shout went up from the escort, thus showing
what they were prepared to do when Mr. Shindle should arrive.

“Well, what do you think of it?” Bill asked proudly, as he approached
Josiah.

“Think of what?”

“This crowd. I reckon your father’ll be ’bout tickled to death when we
give three cheers the minute he steps off the cars. Folks’ll think he’s
the Governor by the time we get through yellin’.”

“But I don’t b’lieve the people at the station will want you screechin’
’round there.”

“They’ll have to be mighty smart if they can stop us after we once get
started. I’ve figgered the whole thing out, same’s it’s done when a
politician comes inter town, an’ you needn’t be ’fraid but we’ll do it
right up in style.”

“See here, Bill, what makes you do so?” Josiah asked almost piteously,
not feeling exactly at liberty to put a decided veto upon the scheme.

“What makes me? Why, we’re countin’ on comin’ up to your farm next
summer, an’ wanter make it lively now for your father, so’s he’ll be
glad to see us when we get there.”

“I’m ’fraid mother hasn’t got beds enough for all hands.”

“That don’t make a mite of difference; we’re willin’ to sleep on the
hay, or anywhere. Tom acted as if he thought we counted on follerin’
you ’round town; but of course we wouldn’t do a thing like that. We’ll
jest start the old man in right, an’ then he an’ you can go wherever
you wanter; but we’re bound to see him first.”

It surely seemed as if this settled the matter, so far as Master
Shindle was concerned. If Bill was “bound” to carry out the programme
he had arranged, then it would be but a waste of words to remonstrate
with him, and Josiah remained silent.

“You’ll have to let ’em go,” Bob whispered, and the young gentleman
from Berry’s Corner nodded his head with an air of resignation.

“I don’t think you’d better do any yellin’,” Tom said after a pause.
“You see, Bill, some of them fellers at the station might kick up a
fuss, an’ it wouldn’t look well if you should get ’rested the very
minute Mr. Shindle struck the city, ’cause then there wouldn’t be any
chance of gettin’ ’quainted with him.”

“I’ll risk their catchin’ me,” Master Foss replied boldly; but it was
evident that the suggestion had aroused a certain train of thought
which might result in the abandonment of at least a portion of the
reception ceremonies.

By this time the escort had cast aside their martial bearing, and all
were clustered around Josiah, urging him to leave the court as soon as
possible.

“You see, there may be a block down on Broadway, an’ it’ll take us
quite a while to get along, ’cause we’re goin’ to march reg’lar,
same’s soldiers do,” one of the party suggested, and the visitor felt
decidedly embarrassed at being made thus conspicuous.

“I reckon it’ll have to be done, an’ we might as well have it over
with at once,” Tom whispered, and the company set out in the order
prescribed by Master Foss.

Josiah walked arm in arm with Tom and Bob, while on either side were
five of the escort, with Bill leading, and turning now and then to make
certain his men were in proper line.

It had been the intention of the Master of Ceremonies to conduct his
party through the streets; but before they had proceeded two blocks,
its military formation was broken up, owing to the recklessness of the
driver of a dray, and then he concluded it would be quite as well to
march on the sidewalk, even though the pedestrians were inconvenienced
thereby.

Josiah did not enjoy what Bill had arranged as a triumphal procession
for the boy whose guest he intended to be during the following summer;
but when seeing that they attracted no slight amount of attention, Tom
and Bob concluded Master Foss’s idea was a thoroughly good one.

That Bill did not intend to do things in any slipshod fashion, was
shown by the fact that he bought ferry tickets for the entire party,
regardless of the expense, and once on the Jersey City side of the
river, ranged his followers in two ranks in front of the gate through
which Mr. Shindle must emerge.

Fully an hour did Josiah and his many friends remain at the station;
and after this long, weary time of waiting, Farmer Shindle, dressed in
his best clothes, and looking as radiant as a boy with a ticket for the
circus, stepped from the cars to be greeted more than warmly by his son.

“Well, well, well, and are you ready to go home?” the farmer asked, as
if in surprise that the heir of the Shindle estate should show so much
joy when his visit was about to come to an end.

“Yes indeed, father.”

“Why, what’s the matter? Haven’t you had a tolerably good time?”

“Splendid! I’ve seen everything I ever heard about, an’ a good deal
more; but I ain’t sorry to go back to you, an’ mother, an’ the calf,
an’ Towser.”

“Well, well, well, now I’m glad to hear that,” and Farmer Shindle
laid his hand affectionately on Josiah’s shoulder. “I feered you’d be
wantin’ to stay all winter, an’ that would have pretty nigh broke
me up. But here’s Tom and Bob,” and the good man turned to shake
hands with the representatives of Baker’s Court as he looked at them
critically, and added, “You’ve lost that healthy coat of tan you got
out to Berry’s Corner last summer, boys. Next year I reckon we’ll
have to make farmers of both you little rascals, an’ then you won’t
be layin’ ’round this dreadful wicked city lookin’ as peaked as sick
chickens. But say, Josiah, does all this crowd belong to you?”

On hearing himself thus referred to, Bill Foss stepped quickly forward,
and Josiah introduced him by saying:--

“This is a friend of Tom’s and Bob’s, father. He’s been ’round with us
a good deal, an’ come down so’s to make it kinder lively for you.”

“Yes, sir, an’ I brought them fellers with me,” Bill said as he pointed
to the escort. “You see, we didn’t want you to land here without there
was a reg’lar delegation to take care of you.”

“Bless my soul!” the farmer exclaimed, as he looked at the two lines
of boys, who were standing stiff as statues now they were being
inspected. “There wasn’t any need of makin’ a splurge for me, ’cause
you see I’m only a plain old farmer, an’ wouldn’t know how to act if
there was too much goin’ on.”

“But this thing had to be done,” Bill explained, scowling furiously at
a boy in the escort who chanced to step out of the line for an instant
in order to save himself from being run over by a dray. “We’re comin’
out to see you next summer, you know, an’ it seems like we oughter get
’quainted first.”

“Comin’ out to the farm, eh?”

“That’s what we ’low to do,” Bill replied decidedly.

“The whole crowd?”

“Yes sir’ee; we’ve ’greed to save up cash enough to buy tickets for all
hands.”

“Well,” Farmer Shindle said hesitatingly, “there’ll be plenty of room
for you daytimes, an’ I reckon we’ll manage to have all you can eat;
but I don’t know as to stowin’ you away at night. We’ll have to talk
with mother ’bout that.”

“Don’t you worry for us,” Bill replied without hesitation. “We’ll fix
ourselves, an’ all you’ve got to do is to have the farm right where it
was when Tom an’ Bob was out there.”

“Did you invite all these boys to visit with you, Josiah?” the farmer
asked in a whisper; and, in the fewest possible words, his son
explained the situation of affairs.

“Oh, that’s it, eh? Well, I wouldn’t like to begrudge anything to these
poor children who don’t ever have a chance to get a breath of pure air;
but at the same time, I ain’t sure as it would be treatin’ mother jest
right to have all of ’em pilin’ in on her in such a load.”

Bill waited until the whispered conversation had come to an end, and
then said in a confidential tone to Josiah:--

“I reckon you had better go now, ’cause you’ll wanter see your father;
but we’ll meet you agin before the train leaves.”

“I guess that would be the best way,” the boy replied, thoroughly
relieved at the prospect of parting with the escort.

“We ain’t goin’ to lose sight of you, Mr. Shindle,” Bill said to the
farmer; “but we’ve got a little business over on this side of the
river, an’ will turn up agin to-night. You’ll get along without us,
’cause Tom and Bob can put you ’round.”

“I reckon we shall get through all right,” the farmer replied with a
laugh, and Bill gave the word of command to take up the line of march
in a very loud voice.

Josiah was more than willing to part with these acquaintances; and
after watching Bill and his friends until they had passed through the
gate to the street, he turned to his father.

It was some moments before Mr. Shindle was ready to go on board
the ferry-boat, because of the questions which Tom and Bob thought
necessary to ask concerning the farm, and when they were seated on the
steamer where Josiah could talk unreservedly, owing to the fact that
his friends were, perforce, some distance away, he asked seriously:--

“Does it cost much to keep a boy or a girl about my age?”

“Well, now, that depends,” the farmer replied as he rubbed his chin
reflectively; “if they were to be kept the year ’round, I reckon what
they’d take from the table wouldn’t be missed; but when it comes to
fillin’ ’em up for a week, they get away with an amazin’ power of
vittles--not that I begrudge what a person eats at our house, though,”
he added quickly.

“Would it cost a great deal to keep a child like me?”

“That depends. You never was a careful boy with shoe-leather, Josiah,
an’ don’t take so kindly to work as I wish you did. Now, them Berry
youngsters will stay in the field all day long with never a whimper;
but you no sooner weed two or three rows than you’re done, and want to
skylark in the woods, catchin’ turtles, or somethin’ like that. There’s
a good many times that a boy’s a heap of trouble, even if you don’t
count the expense.”

“I’m talkin’ of a girl, father.”

Up to this moment Farmer Shindle probably thought the questions were
asked from motives of curiosity; and now the good man turned squarely
around in his seat as he looked at the boy earnestly, and asked:--

“What have you got in your head, Josiah?”

This was not exactly the time when Master Shindle intended to present
the story of the match-girl. He had expected to bring his father
gradually up to the point where he could propose, without exciting too
much astonishment, that she be invited to the farm for a long visit.

It was not possible to further prepare him for what was coming,
however, and he plunged boldly into the matter by telling all he knew
about the child who sold matches on Chatham Square.

Very pathetically he described her lonely life and home, with no one
but a drunken woman to care for her; the pinched, wan face, and the
hardships necessarily endured while trying to earn a livelihood on the
streets during the winter season, until, from the varying expression of
his father’s features, Josiah knew he had excited sympathy, if nothing
more.

The good man wiped his forehead vigorously as if excessively warm, and
said in a tone of mingled bewilderment and regret:--

“I wish you hadn’t told me this, Josiah, till you had talked with
mother. I was countin’ on seein’ a good bit of the city to-day; but
somehow your story has taken all the fun outer me.”

“Why not carry her home with us, father? If mother isn’t willin’ she
needn’t stay any longer’n Tom an’ Bob did, an’ the poor little thing
will be jest so much the better for havin’ a chance to live two or
three days like decent folks.”

“But there’s the expense of takin’ her back an’ forth, ’Siah. Don’t
forget that, for your mother won’t.”

“I’ve got enough to pay for the ticket. I was goin’ to buy you an’
mother somethin’; but I know you’d be willin’ to get along without the
presents for the sake of givin’ her a good time.”

Farmer Shindle was so deeply engaged with his thoughts that he made
no reply to this last suggestion of his son’s, until the ferry-boat
touched the slip with a shock which caused him considerable alarm, and
as the young gentlemen from Baker’s Court led the way to the street, he
said:--

“Let’s go right up an’ see that girl. If she wants to go out to the
farm for a week, an’ you’re willin’ to pay the fares, I don’t see as
there’s any reason for sayin’ no. Mother can’t be very much opposed
to it, ’cause the harvestin’s over, the apples are dried, an’ she’s
through preservin’. I’ll risk it anyhow.”

This was as much as Josiah had dared to hope for, and now had come the
time when he could tell Tom and Bob of the plan.

“Well, that’s what I call a big thing,” Master Green said in a tone of
approbation. “It’s goin’ to be tough on Sadie to stay out-doors all
winter jest to earn what little she needs, an’ if you folks take care
of her, she’ll be mighty lucky.”

Both the boys were as excited and delighted by the information as if it
had been a scheme devised for their especial benefit.

They led the way to Chatham Square at a rapid pace, hurrying Farmer
Shindle across the street amid the press of vehicles, until the poor
man was almost certain he would never live to reach the desired spot,
owing to the recklessness of his guides.

There was no difficulty in finding Sadie.

She was standing where Josiah first saw her, and this time he did not
hesitate to approach.

“Say, wouldn’t you like to go out to Berry’s Corner an’ live with
father, an’ mother, an’ me?” he cried eagerly, as he halted in front of
her, while Tom and Bob pressed close behind to hear every word of the
conversation. “I’m goin’ home to-night, an’ we’ll take you for a week,
anyhow; then perhaps mother’ll let you stay a good while longer. It’s
ever so much nicer out there than it is in the city.”

The child was bewildered by Josiah’s impetuous manner, as well as by
the proposition so hastily made, and appeared wholly at a loss for an
answer.

Then Tom, who fancied some recommendation from him might be necessary,
described the Shindle farm, told of his visit of the previous year, and
painted so eloquently in words a picture of the life at Berry’s Corner,
that soon Sadie was as excited as any of the party.

At this point Mr. Shindle took part in the conversation.

The child had aroused his sympathies, and he now felt as eager to take
her home as did Josiah.

“We haven’t got any little girl out to our house,” he said, holding the
tiny hand in his hard palm, “an’ I know mother would take you right
into her heart. She’s a bit close-fisted at times, ’cause we have to
count every cent to make both ends meet; but in five minutes after you
strike the house she’ll be as if you was her own. The good Book says
there ain’t a sparrow falls without the Father’s notice, an’ He counts
on our doin’ all we can to prevent the fallin’, so I reckon it’ll be
layin’ up treasure for the hereafter to take you home.”

Sadie did not exactly understand what the old gentleman was saying so
earnestly; but she knew it all meant an invitation to visit the farm,
and little persuasion was needed to gain her consent.

Just then Master Bartlett took charge of the matter by adding:--

“I’ll go down to Mother Hunter’s with her, an see that she’s ready to
leave with you an’ Josiah, Mr. Shindle. When it’s time to start, we’ll
be waitin’ for you at the court.”



CHAPTER XVII.

AT HOME.


This arrangement was immediately carried into effect, because Tom did
not wait for an expression of opinion regarding it.

He led Sadie across the square, and the other members of the party were
left alone, Farmer Shindle saying, when the child was hidden from view
by the throng of pedestrians:--

“You’ve done a good deed, ’Siah, no matter what mother says. It’s a
burnin’ shame for that poor little thing to have to earn her livin’
sellin’ matches on the street. I’ll pay for the railroad tickets,
an’ you can spend your money as you like.” Then, conscious of having
obeyed a kindly impulse, and feeling better because of it, the farmer
bethought himself of the plans he had made for enjoying this brief
visit, and asked, “Ain’t there a wax figger show somewhere ’round
here?”

“Yes, sir,” Bob replied. “I know of a big one way up town; but it costs
fifty cents to go in.”

“I don’t care if they tax six shillings apiece, we’re goin’ with the
whole crowd. It’s the first time I’ve been in the city with nothin’ to
do, for more’n two years. I’ve begun by agreein’ to pay that little
girl’s way out home, an’ I guess I can stand three or four dollars
more. Show us where it is, Bob, an’ I’ll buy the tickets.”

Under Master Green’s guidance the party walked toward Broadway until
Farmer Shindle remembered that Tom was in danger of losing his share of
the sight-seeing, and suddenly halted as he said:--

“Now look here, I don’t like to cheat that Bartlett boy outer the fun
while he’s helpin’ the little girl. S’pose you run after him, Bob?
’Siah an’ me’ll see enough right here on this corner to keep us amused
till you get back, for it ain’t often we have sich a chance.”

Bob, who had been regretting his partner’s absence, was more than
willing to act upon the suggestion, and set out at full speed, in order
to economize time.

So intent was Josiah and his father on the scenes around them, that it
hardly seemed more than five minutes before the boys returned, both
looking radiantly happy because of the good fortune in store for Sadie.

Although Mr. Shindle’s destination was the “wax figure show” on
Twenty-Third street, considerable time was occupied in reaching the
place, for he found it necessary to stop here and there, and look about
him quite as often as had Josiah.

Tom and Bob piloted the party directly up Broadway, doing the utmost
to keep their guests in motion; for now that his father was with him,
it seemed as if Josiah’s exclamations of delight were louder and more
frequent than before.

The pedestrians enjoyed the odd antics of these Berry Corner
pleasure-seekers to such an extent, that before the party had reached
Bleecker street the attention which they received was even more
apparent than Bob and Tom fancied desirable.

“We’ll have to hurry the old man along faster’n this,” the former said
in a whisper, “else we’ll have the whole city taggin’ after us. He’s
actin’ worse’n Josiah ever dared to, an’ how it’ll be when we get up
among the swell stores, I don’t know.”

“I reckon it would be a good idea to holler fire, when he gets so much
of a crowd ’round him,” Tom suggested. “Perhaps if we did that we could
run him pretty near all the way up.”

“I don’t b’lieve it would work, ’cause he’d soon find out there wasn’t
anything the matter, an’ we don’t want to make the old man mad. He was
too good last summer for us to play any funny business.”

“Then tell him if we don’t get there pretty soon, the show’ll be
closed. That’ll settle it.”

Bob did as his friend suggested; and the possibility that he might lose
the opportunity of seeing this exhibition, of which he had read and
heard so much, caused Mr. Shindle to accelerate his pace, greatly to
the delight of his guides.

The old gentleman walked rapidly several moments, and then they had
arrived in front of a toy-store.

Here he came to a full halt; and it is questionable if even a genuine
alarm of fire would have caused him to move on, unless, by chance, the
engine had passed within sight.

He appeared to take as much pleasure in looking at the toy soldiers,
dolls, and miniature base-ball outfits as did Josiah; and the two
flattened their noses against the window in blissful ignorance of the
amusement they were affording the spectators.

Mr. Shindle compared the toys with such as he had owned when he was a
child, and speculated with Josiah as to what he would buy for Sadie
if he was possessed of unlimited means, until one would have found it
difficult, judging simply from the conversation, to say which was the
elder of the two.

“I reckon your mother would go jest about wild if she was to see a
thing like this,” Mr. Shindle said, when Bob had tried in vain several
moments to induce him to continue the journey up town.

“I wish you’d brought her with you,” Josiah replied. “You can’t think
how many things I’ve seen that I knew both she an’ you’d like, since
I’ve been here, an’ it seemed too bad we couldn’t all have been
together.”

“I did ask her if she wouldn’t come down; but she’s forever thinkin’
about how much the railroad ticket costs; an’ while I don’t want to
make any complaint against your mother, Josiah, I must say she’s a
master hand at figgerin’ how many cents there are in a dollar, so I
don’t know as we’ve got any call to blame her. You see, for a good many
years we had an up-hill row to hoe, an’ she’s buckled down to it so
long, that now when we’re a little fore-handed, she can’t get free of
them ways of scrimpin’.”

In due course of time, Bob’s and Tom’s efforts were rewarded with
success, and the little party moved on, slowly to be sure, but, as Bob
said, they were “headin’ the right way,” and it was only a question of
an hour or more when they would arrive at their destination.

Bill Foss could not have been more jaunty in his manner, even when
making his best efforts to do honor to Josiah in order to pave the way
for the summer’s visit, than was Mr. Shindle when he stepped in front
of the ticket-office at the “wax-figure show,” and purchased the cards
of admission.

“It’s a good deal of money to pay out for two or three hour’s fun,” he
said in a confidential tone to the gentleman in the box-office, as the
latter returned three dollars in change for a five, accompanying them
with four bits of pasteboard which would pass the party by the Cerberus
at the door; “but you see when a man don’t come down to the city more’n
once in two years, I reckon he can afford it.”

This explanation of his almost criminal prodigality had the effect
of soothing the farmer’s mind, so far as the expenditure of two
dollars was concerned, and the four entered the museum in open-mouthed
astonishment.

This was a place which neither Tom nor Bob had ever visited before,
owing to the high price of admission; and they were quite as much
delighted as were their country friends, although both took especial
care to prevent giving such palpable evidences of their enjoyment.

In a very few moments the young gentlemen of Newspaper Row were wearied
with looking at the figures of celebrities, and Bob said confidently to
his companion:--

“I don’t understand how it is they charge half a dollar jest to come
in here and see these people. I can find a good many more on Broadway
any day;” and it is very likely they would have voted this particular
exhibition a failure, when taken in connection with the amount charged
for admission, had it not been that Josiah accidentally found his way
down the staircase to the Chamber of Horrors.

He came back swiftly, his eyes gleaming with astonishment, his face
almost pale, and exclaimed in a voice trembling with surprise and
emotion:--

“Come down here quick! They’re murderin’ folks, an’ hangin’ ’em, an’
everything else! It’s awful nice!”

Tom and Bob had nothing more to say about the entrance fee, for here
was an opportunity to drink their fill of horrors.

During the next fifteen minutes not a single member of the party spoke,
as they walked from one scene to another in what was really like silent
fear.

“This is an awful wicked world,” Farmer Shindle said solemnly, when he
had fully understood the seven stages of the burglar’s life, “an’ if
ever the time comes when I get tired stayin’ out to Berry’s Corner,
I’ll come right down here. It’s enough to make a man wish there never
was such places as cities. Say, Bob, do you s’pose them figgers are all
wax, or are they reg’lar skins stuffed?”

Master Green should have acknowledged that he was unable to answer this
question, but it seemed hardly the proper thing for him to confess his
ignorance, and he replied gravely:--

“I reckon some of ’em’s wax, an’ some of ’em ain’t. I’m pretty certain
that feller what’s goin’ to have his head cut off is a reg’lar man
stuffed. I s’pose they glued him together after the choppin’ was over.”

This made the scene of the guillotine more realistic, and the little
party paused in front of the terrible picture until Mr. Shindle said
with a sigh:--

“It’s no use, boys, I’ve got enough of this sort of thing, even if
it did cost half a dollar apiece. I reckon we’d better go out on the
street where we can see somethin’ more lively. If there’s any chance
’round here to get a bite to eat, I wouldn’t mind payin’ for a cup of
coffee an’ a fried cake.”

“There’s lots of places like that,” Bob said quickly; for the idea of
having a lunch at an uptown restaurant was even more entrancing than
anything to be found in the museum.

Ten minutes later the four were seated at a marble-topped table, which
Mr. Shindle thought out of place in such an establishment, since, as he
said, “wood would have done jest as well so long as it was made strong
enough to hold the feed, an’ wouldn’t have come nearly so expensive.”

Josiah’s father generously allowed his guests to order what they
wished, and this was done without reference to the bill of fare.

A thoroughly enjoyable lunch it was until the check had been brought,
and then the amount caused even more consternation than had the one at
Coney Island among the chowder-eaters.

The farmer looked at it a moment in eloquent silence, and then said, as
he plunged his hand with a certain deliberation into his pocket:--

“I reckon it’s jest as well for me that I don’t come to the city very
often, ’cordin’ to the price we’re gettin’ for potatoes now. I don’t
groan over payin’ two dollars to go into a show like the one we jest
come out of; but when they can figger up a dollar and seventy-five
cents for two or three mouthfuls such as we’ve had, it strikes me we’re
goin’ it pretty strong, eh, Josiah?”

“Things are awful expensive in the city, father. I’ve found that out
since I’ve been here;” and then the heir of the Shindle estate told of
the amount spent at Coney Island, until his father began to look upon
Messrs. Green and Bartlett as capitalists, if they could afford to
entertain their guests in such a manner.

“It’s no use to cry over spilled milk, so I won’t say anything more
about it; but it’ll be a long day before I set down to a dollar and
seventy-five cent meal agin.”

Then it seemed as if the farmer put from his mind all idea of the value
of money, and from that hour until the day’s pleasuring had come to
an end, there was not a moment which had in it less than sixty full
seconds of perfect enjoyment.

Farmer Shindle not only invited the boys to several other places of
interest, but purchased peanuts and candy with the recklessness of a
spendthrift, until there was every probability the entire party would
need strong doses of Jamaica ginger before morning.

The inhabitants of Baker’s Court were in a ferment of excitement when
the amusement-seekers finally returned.

All were acquainted with the little match-girl, and more than once had
they discussed the possibility of doing something to aid her for whom
the battle of life had begun so early; but thus far nothing had been
accomplished.

Instantly word was brought of the farmer’s generous invitation,
however, every mother in the vicinity bent all her energies toward
replenishing Sadie’s scanty wardrobe; and when Mr. Shindle and the boys
arrived, she presented a much neater and more cleanly appearance than
ever since Tom had known her.

Josiah purchased for his mother a lace cap that he thought a marvel of
beauty because of the bright red ribbons with which it was tied. In
making the selection he was aided by his father, who told him, as if
it was a great secret, that when his mother was young she always wore
red, therefore there could be no mistake if he selected a head covering
plentifully bedecked with this color.

Fifty cents more of his rapidly diminishing capital had been invested
in a gaudily-painted but not very serviceable whip for his father, and
thus Josiah was to carry home gifts despite his charitable scheme.

Then the huge valise was brought down-stairs, and Farmer Shindle said,
as he seized it by the leathern handles:--

“We’ll take good care of the little girl, neighbors, an’ next summer,
if mother an’ me are spared, I reckon the crops will be big enough so’s
we can stand the feed of a dozen youngsters from ’round here, who I
allow don’t see a spear of grass from one year’s end to another.”

       *       *       *       *       *

One afternoon in December, when snow covered the brown earth with
a mantle of whiteness, as the sleek, well-fed cows and horses were
housed in the warm barn, munching contentedly the hay gathered for
their especial benefit, and all Nature was under the Ice King’s rule,
the Shindle family, with the match-girl in their midst, sat before a
roaring fire in the rag-carpeted kitchen, enjoying the genial warmth
all the more because of the intense cold outside.

During fully ten minutes not a word had been spoken; and then the
farmer said as he laid his hand on the head of the tiny girl, who was
sitting upon a footstool near Mrs. Shindle’s side, learning to knit:--

“It would have been pretty hard lines, mother, if this little thing
was obliged to walk the streets of that great, big city tryin’ to earn
money enough for her feed.”

“Indeed it would, father, and while we live she shall never again know
what it is to be homeless,” the good woman replied, as she stroked the
brown hair of the little head which had dropped into her lap to hide
the tears of gratitude.

Happy and contented as were all the inmates of the kitchen, there was a
certain huskiness in the farmer’s voice as he added:--

“After all, mother, it ain’t givin’ we are, it’s receivin’, because she
gives more’n she takes. I reckon when ’Siah an’ me lugged her away from
New York, it was cuttin’ a mighty big coupon from them five shares of
the fresh-air fund we invested in last summer.”


THE END.



Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious errors and omissions in punctuation have been fixed.

Page 42: “Owing to the excitment” changed to “Owing to the excitement”

Page 210: “owning a newstand” changed to “owning a newsstand”



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