The Project Gutenberg eBook of Nelson the Newsboy, by Horatio Alger, Jr.

"HE CAUGHT SIGHT OF THE BULLY NEWSBOY WHO HAD ROBBED
HIM."—Frontispiece.
Nelson the Newsboy.

NELSON THE
NEWSBOY

BY THE SAME AUTHOR

THE YOUNG BOOK AGENT;
Or, Frank Hardy's Road to Success.

FROM FARM TO FORTUNE;
Or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience.

LOST AT SEA;
Or, Robert Roscoe's Strange Cruise.

JERRY, THE BACKWOODS BOY;
Or, The Parkhurst Treasure.

NELSON, THE NEWSBOY;
Or, Afloat in New York.

YOUNG CAPTAIN JACK;
Or, The Son of a Soldier.

OUT FOR BUSINESS;
Or, Robert Frost's Strange Career.

FALLING IN WITH FORTUNE;
Or, The Experiences of a Young Secretary.

12mo, finely illustrated and bound. Price, per volume, 60 cents.

NEW YORK
STITT PUBLISHING COMPANY
1905

PREFACE.

"Nelson the Newsboy" relates the adventures of a wide-awake lad in the great metropolis. The youth is of unknown parentage and is thrown out upon his own resources at a tender age. He becomes at first a newsboy, and from that gradually works up to something better. He is often tempted to do wrong—the temptation becoming particularly hard on account of his extreme poverty—but there is that in his make-up which keeps him in the right path, and in the end he becomes a victor in more ways than one.

So much for the seamy side of life in New York, which, alas! is by far the greater side. On the other hand, there are those who are well-to-do and aristocratic who are interested in learning what has become of the boy, and these furnish a view of life in the upper society of the metropolis. How the youthful hero fares in the end is told in the pages which follow.

In its original form Mr. Alger intended this story of New York life for a semi-juvenile[Pg iv] drama. But it was not used in that shape, and when the gifted author of so many interesting stories for young people had laid aside his pen forever, this manuscript, with others, was placed in the hands of the present writer, to be made over into such a volume as might have met with the noted author's approval. The other books having proved successful, my one wish is that this may follow in their footsteps.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER I. INTRODUCING THE HERO.

"Herald, Times, Tribune! All the news of the day! Have a paper, sir? All about the terrible fire in Harlem! Two lives lost!"

High and clear above the din made by the cabs, trucks, and street cars a boyish voice could be heard. The speaker was but fifteen years of age, tall and thin, with a face that betokened a refinement unusual to such a station in life. But if the lad's look was above the average, his clothes were not, for they were in tatters, while the hat and shoes he wore had seen far better days.

"A fire in Harlem, eh?" queried a stout gentleman, as he stopped short in front of the newsboy.

"All about the same, sir. Better take 'em all, sir. Then you'll be sure to have all the news," added the newsboy shrewdly.

The words were scarcely uttered when the newsboy had the papers ready for him. Taking the several sheets, the stout man passed over a dime and started to cross the crowded thoroughfare.

"Thank you, sir!" The newsboy wheeled quickly. "Herald, Times, Tribune! Who'll have a paper? All the latest news! Extra!"

The stout man stepped from the curb into the gutter, and there halted to let a truck go by. As he waited he began to scan one of the newspapers he had purchased. Suddenly he gave a violent start.

"Fire in the Starmore apartment house!" he muttered. "The building I purchased only last month! What bad luck is this?"

Still staring at the newspaper, he passed onward behind the heavy truck. Another truck[Pg 3] and a street car were coming from the opposite direction, and both traveling at a good rate of speed.

"Hi! look out!" yelled the truck-driver, and the street-car bell clanged violently. But the stout man was too absorbed in the newspaper to heed the warnings.

The cry of the truck-driver reached the ears of the quick-witted newsboy, and in a flash he saw the danger.

"Oh, the gentleman will be run over!" he muttered, and throwing his papers on the pavement, he made a leap into the street and grabbed the man by the arm. Just as he drew the stout individual back the truck horse plunged forward, grazing the man's side. Had it not been for the newsboy, the stout gentleman would have collapsed in the gutter. But as it was each, in a moment more, gained the pavement in safety.

"Phew! that was a narrow escape," puffed the stout gentleman, as soon as he could get back some of the wind he had lost in his consternation.

"So it was," answered the newsboy, as he stepped about to pick up his scattering stock in trade.

The stout gentleman brought out a large[Pg 4] handkerchief and began to mop his face, for the excitement had put him into a perspiration.

"My lad, you've done me a great service," he went on, after the boy had collected his papers.

"That's all right, sir," was the ready reply. "Sorry you lost your papers. The truck cut 'em up, and they are all muddy, besides."

"Never mind the papers—you can sell me another set. But I want to thank you for what you did for me."

"If it hadn't been for you, I might have fallen under that horse and truck!" The stout man shuddered. "Here is pay for the papers and for your services to me."

"Why, it's two dollars!" cried the newsboy in astonishment. Then he added quickly, "I can't change it."

At this question the boy's face fell, and his mouth trembled a little as he gave his answer.

"What, you don't know what your name is?" cried the stout gentleman in astonishment.

"I live over on the East Side with an old sailor named Samuel Pepper. He keeps a lunch room."

"He calls himself my father—not my real father, you know; only he says he adopted me when I was a little kid. Everybody around there calls me Nelson, or Sam Pepper's boy."

"Sam don't like the schools. He says if I go I'll get too smart for him. He says I am almost too smart already."

"Too bad!" The stout gentleman was going[Pg 6] to say something more, but suddenly remembered about the fire in Harlem. "Perhaps I'll see you again, Nelson. I can't stop now. Do you know why I forgot myself in the street? It was because that fire proved to be in an apartment house that I purchased only a month ago."

"The place was insured, so I shall not expect to lose much. I must get up there at once and see see how it was those lives were lost."

In a moment more the stout gentleman was crossing the street again, but this time taking very good care that he should not be taken unawares.

Nelson started to sell more papers, when another boy, who had been selling papers further down the block, came hurrying toward him.

Now in truth Billy thought of nothing but to have a good time with the money, but he did not deem it prudent to tell Nelson so.

"I aint no woman, to use a needle. Come, hand over de dollar!" And Billy held out his dirty fingers.

He started to move on, but in a moment more Billy Darnley was beside him and had him clutched firmly by the arm.

CHAPTER II. A QUARREL OVER A DOLLAR.

As Nelson had said, he was of unknown parentage and practically alone in the world. As far back as he could remember he had lived with Sam Pepper, a shiftless, unprincipled man, who in the last ten years had followed the sea and a dozen other callings, and who was at present the proprietor of a lunch-room on the East Side—a place frequented by many persons of shady reputation.

Where he had come from, and what his real name was, were complete mysteries to Nelson, and it must be confessed that in the past he had paid scant attention to them; this being largely due to his immature years. Now, however, he was growing older, and he often found himself wondering how it was that he was living with Sam Pepper.

Once he had asked the man, but the only answer he received was a growl and a demand that he stop asking foolish questions. "You're only a kid yet," said Pepper. "Wait till you're old enough; maybe then you'll learn a thing or two."[Pg 10] And so Nelson waited, but did not cease to wonder.

Many of Sam Pepper's intimates were hard customers, and Nelson was of the opinion that Pepper himself was no better, although he was not in a position to prove it. The boy was driven out to earn his own living, and the only time that Pepper was liberal with him was when the man was in liquor.

More than once Nelson had thought to run away from the man and his evil associates, but found himself unable to do so. The main reason for his remaining was that he felt Pepper held the mystery of his past, and if he went away that mystery would remain forever unsolved.

As Nelson had said, he had gained a scanty education by attending night school. To this education he had added some useful reading, so he was advanced as far as most boys in much better circumstances. Learning appeared to come easy to him, showing that his mind was of the superior sort.

Nelson had started out that morning with a determination to sell all the papers possible, and keep on with his efforts until he had eight or ten dollars to his credit. With this amount he intended to invest in a suit which he had seen advertised for six dollars, a cap, and a cheap pair of[Pg 11] shoes. He did not know but what Pepper might find fault with him for "cutting such a swell," but he was willing to risk it.

Before meeting the stout gentleman Nelson's assets amounted to three dollars and forty cents. With the ten cents for papers and the two dollars extra, he now found himself with five dollars and half to his credit. This was not a fortune, but as Nelson had never before possessed more than three dollars at one time, it was, to his way of thinking, considerable.

The suggestion that he lend Billy Darnley a dollar did not appeal to him. In the first place he knew Billy to be both a bully and a spendthrift, who was more than likely to squander the money on pie, ice cream, cigarettes, and a ticket to some cheap burlesque show, and in the second place he was more than satisfied that Billy would never refund the loan, not having returned a quarter loaned him months before.

"Why can't yer let me have de dollar?" questioned Billy. "I'll make it right wid yer, Nelse; take me word on it."

Nelson had scarcely spoken when Billy Darnley made a sudden clutch for the pocket of his vest.

Much dilapidated, the pocket gave way easily; and in a twinkle the bully was running up the street with five dollars in bills and a bit of cloth clutched tightly in his dirty fist.

"Hi! stop!" cried Nelson, but instead of heeding the demand, the bully only ran the faster. Soon he passed around a corner and down a side street leading to the East River.

Nelson was an excellent runner, and, papers under his arm, he lost no time in making after the thief. Thus block after block was passed, until pursued and pursuer were but a short distance from one of the ferry entrances.

A boat was on the point of leaving, and without waiting to obtain a ferry ticket, Billy Darnley slipped in among the trucks going aboard. A gate-keeper tried in vain to catch him, and then[Pg 13] came back and shut the gate, just as Nelson reached it.

"Open the gate!" cried Nelson, so out of breath he could scarcely utter the words. "Open the gate, quick!"

"Go around to the other entrance," replied the gate-keeper, and then added, "Are you after that other newsboy?"

"Five dollars! That's a good one. You never had five dollars in your life. You can't get a free ride on any such fairy tale as that. You go around and buy a ticket, or I'll call a policeman."

In despair Nelson looked through the high, slatted gate and saw that the gates on the ferryboat were already down. A bell jangled, and the big paddle wheels began to revolve. In another moment the boat had left the slip and was on its way to Brooklyn.

"He's gone—and the five dollars is gone, too!" groaned Nelson, and his heart sank. He knew that it would be useless to attempt to follow the bully. Billy would keep out of sight so long as the money lasted. When it was spent he would re-appear in New York and deny everything, and to prove that he was a thief would be next to impossible, for, so far as Nelson knew, nobody had seen the money taken.

He had now but fifty cents left, and a stock of papers worth half a dollar more, if sold. With a heavy heart he walked away from the ferryhouse in the direction from whence he had come.

Nelson had scarcely taken his stand at the corner again when a young lady, very stylishly dressed, came out of a neighboring store, looked at him, and smiled.

"Why, I didn't think—that is, five dollars is a nice sum for a newsboy, isn't it?"

"And he got away from you? Too bad! I wish I could help you, but unfortunately I have spent all of my money but this." She held out a quarter. "Will you accept it?"

"You had better take the money," went on the young lady, whose name was Gertrude Horton. But Nelson would not listen to it, and so she had to place the piece in her purse again. Then she entered the coach standing near and was driven rapidly away. The newsboy gazed after the coach curiously.

"What a lot of money it must take to keep up such style!" he thought. "Those folks spend more in a week, I guess, than some folks on the East Side spend in a year. I don't wonder Sam is always growling about not being rich—after he's been out among the wealthy people he knows. I must say I'd like to be rich myself, just for once, to see how it feels."

Long before noon Nelson's stock of newspapers was exhausted. Without going to Sam Pepper's restaurant for lunch he stopped at a small stand on a side street, where he obtained several crullers and a cup of coffee for five cents. His scanty meal over he purchased a supply of evening papers and set to work to sell these, with the result, by nightfall, that all were gone, and he was thirty-five cents richer.

Sam Pepper's place on the East Side was half a dozen steps below the pavement, in a semi-basement, which was narrow and low and suffering greatly for a thorough cleaning. In the front[Pg 16] was a small show window, filled with pies and vegetables, and behind this eight or ten tables for diners. To one side was a lunch counter for those who were in a hurry, and at the back was a small bar. The cooking was done in a shed in the rear, and beside this shed were two rooms which Nelson and Sam Pepper called their home.

The whole place was so uninviting it is a wonder that Sam Pepper had any trade at all. But his prices were low, and this was a large attraction to those whose purses were slim. Besides this Sam never interfered with those who came to patronize him, and it may as well be stated here that many a crime was concocted at those tables, without the police of the metropolis being the wiser. To Sam it made no difference if his customer was the worst criminal on the East Side so long as he paid his way.

"We've all got to live," he would say. "The world owes every man a living, and if he can't git it one way he must git it in another."

The secret of Sam Pepper's looseness of morals was the fact that he had seen better days, and his coming down in the world had caused him to become more and more reckless. At the present time money was tight with him, and he was fast approaching that point when, as we shall soon see, he would be fit for any desperate deed.

CHAPTER III. SAM PEPPER'S RESORT.

"Well, how have you done to-day?" asked Sam Pepper, when Nelson entered the lunch-room and came to the rear, where Pepper stood mixing some liquors.

"That's more than I've made to-day," growled Pepper. "Business is growing worse and worse."

Nelson knew that he must have made more than a dollar, but he did not say anything on the point. He saw that Sam Pepper was in an ugly mood.

"It seems to me you ought to begin paying something for your keep," went on the lunch-room keeper, after he had returned from serving the drinks he had been mixing.

"All right, I'm willing," said Nelson readily. "But I don't get much from here now, remember."

"It's not my fault if you are not here at dinner time. Plenty of eating going to waste."

"I am not going to eat other folks' left-overs," said the newsboy, remembering the offer made to him several days before.

"Those left-overs are good enough for the likes of you, Nelson. Don't git high-toned before you can afford it."

"You ought to pay me at least five dollars a week," growled Sam Pepper, after a crafty look into the boy's face.

"Five dollars a week!" ejaculated Nelson in surprise. "Why, I don't make it, excepting when business is good."

"You won't go to no other place. You'll stay here, and if you make a dollar or more a day you'll pay me the five dollars."

"No, it's not. I was saving up to buy another suit, but Billy Darnley stole five dollars of the[Pg 19] savings from me this morning," went on Nelson bitterly.

"Then you ought to lose the money, seeing that you didn't pass it over to me," grumbled Sam Pepper. "After this, you let me save your money for you."

At this point some customers came in, and Sam had to wait on them. Seeing this, the newsboy passed around the bar and into the two rooms which he and Pepper called home. They were gloomy and foul-smelling, but the newsboy did not mind this, for he was used to the surroundings. Yet his heart was heavy, as he threw himself into a dilapidated chair and gave himself up to his thoughts.

The new suit of clothes seemed further off than ever, for, if he must pay Sam Pepper five dollars a week for his board, it would be utterly impossible for him to save a cent. The extra money would be needed to buy fresh papers each day.

"It isn't fair!" he muttered. "It isn't fair, and I won't stand it! I'll run away first; that's what I'll do!"

Running away was no new idea, but, as before, he thought of the past and of what Sam Pepper[Pg 20] might have locked up in his breast. No, it would not do to go away. He must unlock the mystery of the past first.

The resolve had hardly crossed his mind when Pepper opened the door with a bang, as it flew back against the wall.

"Come out here and help me," he snarled. "There is plenty of work to do. The kitchen woman has left me in the lurch. Throw off your coat and git into that dishpan, and be lively about it."

Without a word, Nelson did as bidden. He had washed dishes before, and though the pile beside him was by no means small, he soon made away with them. Then Pepper set him to polishing up the knives, forks, and spoons, and this task took until it was time to close for the night.

After the lunch-room had been locked up, and most of the lights put out, Sam Pepper went to the bar and mixed himself an extra-large glass of liquor. This was his "nightcap," as he called it, and usually, after drinking it, he would retire.

To-night, however, after consuming the liquor, he went into one of the back rooms and got out his best coat and his hat.

"All right," answered Nelson. He was disappointed at not being able to question Pepper, but saw there was no help for it. Soon the man was gone, and Nelson was left alone. Pepper had locked the street door and taken the key with him.

The day's work had made Nelson tired, but he was in no humor for sleeping, and tumbled and tossed for a long while after lying down upon his hard couch. He thought of the stout gentleman, of the big newsboy who had robbed him, and of the kind young lady who had offered him assistance. For some reason he could not get the young lady out of his mind, and he half wished he might see her again.

Then his thoughts came back to himself. Who was he, and how had he come into Sam Pepper's care? Surely the man must know all about the past. What could Pepper be hiding from him?

At last he fell asleep, and did not rouse up until early morning. Sam Pepper was just returning, and a glance showed that the man was more than half under the influence of liquor.

"It's a good game," muttered Pepper to himself, as he stumbled around, preparing to retire,[Pg 22] "A good game, and it will make me rich. And Nelson shall help me, too."

He pitched himself on his bed and was soon snoring lustily, and seeing this Nelson did not attempt to disturb him. He slept soundly for the rest of the night, and by six o'clock was outdoors and on his way to get his supply of morning papers.

Pepper had warned him to come back by eleven o'clock, to go at the dishes again, for the kitchen woman was not coming back. This made him cautious about investing in newspapers. However, trade proved brisk, and by ten o'clock he had sold out, and cleared sixty cents.

"I won't buy any more papers until after dinner," he said to himself. "I'll walk down to the ferry and see if I can find out anything about Billy Darnley."

At the ferry there was the usual rush of passengers, the noise of the heavy trucks coming and going, and the shrill cries of the newsboys. Nelson stopped near the ferryhouse to view the scene.

Hardly had he paused when his attention was[Pg 23] attracted to a quarrel between a large newsboy and a small one. The larger lad was shaking his fist in the face of the smaller.

"You keep away from dis corner, Paul Randall!" said the big newsboy. "If yer don't I'll fix yer, remember dat!"

"Yer aint got no right here at all!" blustered Len Snocks. "Dis is my spot, see?"

"Don't yer talk back ter me!" howled Len Snocks, and catching the little lad's stock of papers he threw them down in the mud of the street. "Now clear out, or I'll t'row you down de same way," he went on.

The scene made Nelson's blood boil. He recognized both boys, and knew that Paul Randall helped support a mother who was half blind. Len Snocks was a bully belonging to the crowd with whom Billy Darnley associated.

Rushing across the roadway, Nelson caught Len Snocks by the arm and held him tightly.

"Oh, Nelson, he has spoiled my papers!" sobbed Paul, running to save what was left of the stock.

In a twinkle Nelson placed one foot behind the bully. Then he gave the big newsboy a shove which landed him flat on his back. On the instant he was down on top of Len.

"Lemme up, or I'll kill you!" howled the bully, and struggled to arise. But Nelson was master of the situation. He continued to hold Len down, and did not let go until Paul had the papers he wished. Then he leaped up, squared off on the defensive, and awaited the outcome of the encounter. Paul lost no time in placing himself behind his newly found champion.

CHAPTER IV. DOWN AT THE FERRY.

Len Snocks' eyes flashed dangerously when he confronted Nelson. For a long time he had had matters all his own way around the ferryhouse, and the only boys who were allowed to sell papers there besides himself were such as would toady to him and help him sell his over-supply when trade was dull with him. Often he made the lads pay him five or ten cents for selling papers there, when trade was extra lively.

Paul Randall had no father, and his mother being half blind and quite feeble, the lad felt that every cent he earned must be brought home. Consequently he refused to give Len anything, and this made the big newsboy come to the conclusion that Paul must be driven to seek sales elsewhere. In matters of business newsboys are often as scheming and unfair as are certain men in higher walks of life. Money is everything to them, and they will do almost anything to obtain it.

"Wot do yer mean by t'rowin' me down?"[Pg 26] cried Len, as he doubled up his grimy fists, which had not seen soap or water for many a day.

"You know what I mean, Len Snocks," retorted Nelson. "Paul has as much right to sell papers here as you have."

"I've a good mind to give you a lickin' fer t'rowin' me down," blustered Len, but he made no effort to begin the chastisement.

"If you want to fight, I'm here now," answered Nelson calmly. He understood fully that Len was as much of a coward as he was of a bully.

Len looked around, to see if there was anybody at hand to give him assistance. But all the boys were small, and he felt they could not do much against Nelson, who was known to be strong.

"Yer want to make me lose me trade," he muttered. "I'll fight yer when de rush is over." And he moved toward the ferry entrance.

"All right, I'll be ready for you any time," called Nelson after him. "And, remember, leave Paul alone after this."

"Oh, Nelson, how good you are!" cried Paul[Pg 27] impulsively. "I don't know what he wouldn't have done to me if you hadn't come up."

"Not much. The landlord said she ought to go to the hospital and have her eyes operated on, but she doesn't want to go and leave me."

"Well, I'm willing, Nelson. But how is it you aint selling papers to-day?" went on Paul curiously.

"I've sold out. What have you got left?" Our hero surveyed the stock. "Phew! Eighteen! That's a lot."

"Len kept chasing me, so I couldn't sell much," answered the little boy, with a look of concern on his pale face.

"Give me ten of them," said Nelson, and took that number. "Now you go over there and I'll stay around here. We ought to get rid of 'em between us."

Soon both were at it, crying their wares with[Pg 28] the other boys. Len Snocks saw the move, and scowled more than ever, but did not dare to interfere. In half an hour the papers were all sold, and our hero turned the money over to Paul.

"Went to get some papers, I think. He stopped to talk to Len Snocks for a few minutes."

"I'm sorry I missed him. He stole five dollars from me yesterday—nearly all I had saved up."

"It wouldn't do any good. The police wouldn't believe me, and I haven't any witnesses, excepting a young lady I don't know."

Len Snocks was leaving the vicinity, and now[Pg 29] Nelson hastened after him. Soon he ranged up beside the big newsboy.

"Ha! has dat Paul Randall been a-blabbin'?" cried Len savagely. "I'll fix him, if he has!"

"You let Paul alone, or it will be the worse for you. Then you won't tell me where Billy went?"

Len Snocks would say no more, and satisfied that it would be time lost to question him further. Nelson hurried on and made his way back to the lunch-room.

He was somewhat late, and as soon as he entered Sam Pepper began to storm at him. The[Pg 30] man was in a worse humor than ever, and lashed our hero with his tongue every time he entered the kitchen.

"Here I am a-breaking my back to make a living, and everything going wrong!" he muttered. "You ought to have been here an hour ago. I wanted some more meat from the butcher shop and two dozen more of pies. I think I'll shut up the place at the end of the week. An honest man can't git along, no matter how hard he tries. Now look out, or you'll smash those plates and glasses, and that'll be more money out of my pocket. Hang the lunch business, anyway!"

But his troubles were not yet at an end. In his ill humor he served a customer with a steak that was both tough and half burnt. The customer refused to pay for the meat, and a quarrel ensued which ended in a fight. Two tables were overturned and the crockery smashed before the troublesome customer was ejected, and, in the meantime, several other customers slipped out without paying.

"It's no use, Nelson; I'm going to give it up," growled Sam Pepper, when it was after two o'clock, and the run of midday trade had come to an end. "There are easier ways to make a living than by running a lunch-room."

"Last night you spoke about a good game to[Pg 31] make you rich," answered Nelson curiously, "What did you mean by that?"

"I must have been a bit off in my head, Nelson. You see I met some old friends, and they treated to champagne—and I'm not used to that any more. They make an easy living, they do."

"Oh, they work on the principle that the world owes them a living, and they are bound to have it."

"Oh, a number of things! One runs a mail-order business. He is advertising two things just now. One is a steel engraving of Washington, indorsed by the government as a true picture of the first President, mounted on cardboard, all ready for framing, for fifty cents, and the other is a complete sewing machine for one dollar."

"When some fool sends on a dollar for the machine he sends him a needle, and when another fool sends fifty cents for the steel engraving he sends him a postage stamp picture of Washington stuck on a bit of cardboard."

"He's smart, and the law can't get hold of him," went on Sam Pepper. "Another of the men is selling tips on the races. If his customer wins he gets a percentage. He gets one fool to bet one way and another fool to bet the other way, and no matter which wins he gets his share of the prize."

"I should think he would have a job, looking for fools," said the newsboy. "Folks ought to know better."

"The world is full of people who want to get something for nothing, and these men know it.[Pg 33] But they don't make much of a pile. That's got to be made in another way."

"There are lots of ways, Nelson; some good and some bad. Ever been down in Wall Street?"

"Folks down there gamble in stocks and bonds, and such like. Sometimes they squeeze a poor man out of everything he's got, but they do it so as the law can't touch 'em—and there's where they have the advantage over an East Side gambler, who runs the risk of being arrested if his victim squeals. But Wall Street aint any better than the East Side, for all that."

"A high hat don't make an honest man, Nelson; you ought to know that by this time. They are all thieves and swindlers, and an honest man has no show against 'em. If you want to be rich, you've got to be like 'em!" went on Sam Pepper, bringing his fist down on the table at which he sat. "You can't make anything bein' honest."

To this the newsboy remained silent. He had heard such talk before, so he was not as much shocked as he might otherwise have been.

"I guess I'll go out and sell some evening[Pg 34] papers," he said, after a pause, during which Sam Pepper seemed to sink into deep thought.

"No, I don't want you to go out; I want to have a talk with you," answered Pepper. "There won't be no business for an hour or two, and I'll lock the door, so nobody can interrupt us. It's got to come sooner or later, and it might as well come now."

CHAPTER V. NELSON SPEAKS HIS MIND.

Locking the front door to the lunch-room, Pepper came to the rear of the place, poured himself a glass of liquor and tossed it off, and then sank in a chair by the last table.

The boy sat down and gazed curiously at the man before him. Instinctively he realized that a crisis in his life was approaching. He felt that the old life was speedily to become a thing of the past.

"To be sure I have!" cried the boy. "But you will never tell me anything," he added bitterly.

"When I came to New York and settled on the East Side I made up my mind to lead an honest[Pg 36] life and bring you up honestly. I did it, too; didn't I?"

"I did it, but it was hard scratching, and you know it. Many were the times I didn't know how to turn myself, and if it hadn't been for some friends helping me, I would have gone under. Those friends were the only ones I ever knew. They weren't honest, but—well, we'll let that pass. They helped me, and I aint going back on 'em."

"I'm coming to that, Nelson. As I said before, I wanted to bring you up honestly; for your mother was honest, even if your father wasn't."

"No, he wasn't, if you must know. He was a burglar, and made his living by taking from the rich what they didn't deserve to have. He was my friend, and he was one of the men who helped me when I lost all I had at the yacht races."

"Yes; he died when you was a little kid not more than three years old. We both lived in another city then—I won't tell you where. Your father was shot while entering a house to rob a man who had once robbed him when he was in business. Your father died in a hospital, and I was with him. Your mother was dead, and he didn't know what to do with you. I said I'd take you, and he made me promise to go to sea first and then to another city and bring you up the best I could. He didn't want you to know your name, and so I got to calling you Nelson after the English admiral, and you can sign yourself Nelson Pepper after this, if you want to."

"No; excepting that it was a good many miles from here. It wouldn't do any good to rake up old scores. If your father hadn't died of the shot, he would have been sent to prison for ten or fifteen years."

There was a pause, and the newsboy gave something like an inward groan. The revelation that Pepper had made was truly a shocking one, and the boy was so dazed and bewildered he could[Pg 38] scarcely think. His father a burglar, and shot down while in the act of committing a robbery! What a degradation!

"I've told you all this for a purpose," went on the man. "Now I've got some more to tell you, if you'll promise to keep your mouth shut."

"That's good. I know if you give your word you'll keep it. Now, I've got a plan in my head to square accounts, so to speak, and git rich at the same time."

"Well, you see, it's like this: There's a rich gent lives up near Central Park. I won't give you his name, but I don't mind telling you that he's a distant relative of the fellow who shot your father, and he used to help that other man in his dealings against your father. I don't know as he remembers your father now, but he's a man you ought to get square on, anyway."

"I'm coming to that, my boy. This man is old and feeble and has something of an office in his library at home. There is a safe in the library, but it's old-fashioned and can easily be opened. In that safe the old man keeps thousands of dollars all the time, for it's too much for him to go back and forth to the bank, and he aint the one to trust anybody else."

Sam Pepper paused suggestively and looked Nelson full in the eyes. Then he began to whistle softly to himself.

"It won't be stealing, exactly. That man owes you something. If it hadn't been for him and his relative your father might have been rich and never got into any burglary. I have looked the ground over, and the job will be dead easy. There is a back alley and an iron fence that both of us can climb over without half trying. Then I can git a diamond cutter for the window glass, and the rest will be just as easy as wink."

"We won't git caught, Nelson. The old man[Pg 40] has only a niece living with him, a girl of seventeen or eighteen, and an old housekeeper who is half deaf. The rest of the help comes in the morning and leaves after supper."

There was another pause. Nelson sank beside the table, with his face in his hands. Suddenly he looked at Sam Pepper again.

"Then perhaps my father wasn't a burglar, after all. Perhaps he was entering the house to get evidence against the man."

"I don't believe you, so there! You won't tell me my name, or where I came from, or anything, and you are only trying to make out my father was a thief so as to get me to turn thief, too."

"And I repeat I don't believe you. What is more, I won't help you in your plans of robbery. I've been honest so far, and I mean to remain honest. You ought to be ashamed of yourself for trying to make me a thief."

The newsboy had risen to his feet and, as he[Pg 41] spoke, his face glowed with earnestness. Now Sam Pepper sprang up, his features full of baffled passion.

"How dare you talk to me, you miserable pup?" he roared. "I've a good mind to thrash you well for this! Haven't I clothed and fed you for years? And this is what I git for it! I've told you the truth about yourself, only I didn't paint your father as black as I might, not wishing to hurt your feelings. He was a burglar, and before he was shot he served two sentences in prison."

"I don't believe it—and I never will," retorted Nelson, but with quivering lips. "Where was this? Tell me, and I'll soon find out if it is true."

"I'm going to give this place up soon, and of course the living rooms will go, too."

"You want to git out of paying me that five dollars a week, don't you?" sneered Pepper.

"I can't pay five dollars. But I'll pay what I can. How much do you think I owe you?"

"I won't steal—I'll starve first," returned Nelson, and taking up his hat, he unlocked the door, and walked away from the lunch-room.

CHAPTER VI. A BOOK AGENT'S TRIALS.

When Nelson left the lunch-room he scarcely knew what he was doing. The conversation which had occurred had been an important one, but his head was in such a whirl that just now he could make little or nothing out of it.

He had no desire to sell papers,—indeed, he had no desire to do anything,—and all he did was to walk up the street and keep on walking until he was well uptown. Then he began to cross the city in the direction of Broadway.

At last he began to "cool off" a bit, and then he went over all that had been said with care. As he did this he became more and more convinced that Sam Pepper had not told him the truth concerning his parent.

"He is holding something back," he told himself. "And he has some object in doing it. He shall never make me a thief, and some day I'll force him to tell his secret."

The question was asked by a young man who[Pg 44] carried a flat bag in his hand. The man was an agent for books, and the boy had met him many times before.

"Oh, I just came up for a walk," answered our hero. "How is business, Van Pelt?"

"Poor," answered George Van Pelt, as he set down his bag, which was heavy. "Haven't made but half a dollar so far to-day."

"I don't suppose it is, and you don't have to carry around such a bag as this, either. But I would have made more to-day if a customer hadn't tripped me up."

"There was a young gent living near Central Park named Homer Bulson, wanted me to get certain French books for him. I got the books, but when I went to deliver them he refused to take them, saying they were not what he had ordered."

"They were. I could make him take them, according to law, but to sue a man is expensive. But now I've got the books on my hands, and they cost me over three dollars."

"I hardly think so. You see, they are books on poisons, and there isn't much call for that sort of thing."

"He said when he ordered them, that he was studying to be a doctor, and was going to make poisons a specialty."

"So it is. I suppose I could make him take them, if I wanted to create a row. But I can't do that. I haven't the cheek."

"I'd make him take them, if I was in your place. Anyway, I'd tell him I was going to sue him if he didn't pay up. Perhaps that might scare him."

"I was thinking something of doing so. Do you really think it might make him come down?"

"I know some folks hate to think they are going to be sued. And if he lives in a fine house he must be pretty high-toned."

"Oh, he is! He's a young bachelor, and lives in fine style, directly opposite the home of his rich uncle."

"I will. Do you want to come along?" went on George Van Pelt, who hated a quarrel.

"Of course you haven't given up selling[Pg 46] papers?" went on George Van Pelt, as the two walked along.

"From seventy-five cents to a dollar and a quarter. Sometimes I make a dollar and a half, but that's not often."

"The books used to bring me in from three to five dollars a day. But the department stores cut the prices now, and soon the whole book-agent business will be ruined."

"I don't know. If I had the money I'd start a newsstand—for papers and books, too."

"That would pay, if you could get hold of the right corner," said our hero, with interest.

"I know of a good corner on Third Avenue. The man who keeps it now is old and wants to sell out."

"He averages seventy-five dollars a week. But it would be more, if he was able to get around and attend to it."

"A hundred dollars a week would mean about thirty dollars profit," said Nelson, who was quick at figures. "How much is the rent?"

"That would leave twenty-five dollars for the stand-keeper. Does he have a boy?"

"Maybe we could buy the stand together, Van Pelt. You know all about books, and I know about the newspapers. We ought to make a go of it."

"That's so, but——" The book agent looked rather dubiously at our hero's clothes. "How about the cash?"

"I expected to get it in a few days. But Billy Darnley robbed me of five dollars, so I've got to wait a bit."

"Well, if we could raise that money we might buy out the stand and try our luck," continued George Van Pelt, after a thoughtful pause. "I think we'd get along. How much have you."

"He said he might trust me for half the amount he asks, but fifty dollars would have to be a cash payment."

"We'll raise it somehow!" cried Nelson enthusiastically. The idea of owning a half interest in a regular stand appealed to him strongly. In his eyes the proprietor of such a stand was a regular man of business.

The pair hurried on, and at length reached the vicinity of Central Park, and Van Pelt pointed out the house in which the rich young man who had refused to take the books lived.

He hurried forward, followed by Nelson, and the pair met the young man on the steps of his bachelor abode.

Homer Bulson was a tall, slim young fellow, with light hair and blue eyes. His face was somewhat weak, but in his eyes was a look full of scheming cunning. He was faultlessly dressed in the latest fashion, wore a silk hat, and carried a gold-headed cane.

"Mr. Bulson, I must see you about these books," said George Van Pelt, coming to a halt on the steps of the stone porch.

"I told you before that I did not wish to be bothered," answered the young man coldly.

"I will not discuss the matter with you. Go away, and if you bother me again I shall call a policeman."

"My friend hasn't done anything wrong," put in Nelson boldly. "You ordered some books from him, and you ought to pay for 'em."

"What have you to do with this matter?" demanded the rich young man, staring harshly at our hero.

"That's it. You ordered some books on poisons from him, and now you don't want to pay for 'em. It's a swindle and an outrage. He's a poor man, and you haven't any right to treat him so."

"Boy, if you speak like that to me, I'll have you put under arrest," stormed Homer Bulson in a rage.

"You must take the books," put in George Van Pelt, growing braver through what Nelson was[Pg 50] saying. "If you won't take them, I'll sue you for the amount."

"And I'll put the reporters on the game," added the newsboy. "They like to get hold of society notes." And he grinned suggestively.

At this Homer Bulson's face became filled with horror. For more reasons than one he did not wish this affair to become public property.

"Or else your rich uncle will pay for you," said Nelson, never dreaming of how the shot would tell. Bulson grew very pale.

"I—I will take the books and pay for them," he stammered. "Not because I think I ought to take them, mind you," he added, "but because I wish no trouble in public. Where are the books?"

The books were passed over, and Homer Bulson drew from his vest pocket a small roll of bills. He handed over a five to George Van Pelt.

"Now begone with you," he said sourly. "And don't ever come near me again for another order."

"Don't worry, I won't come," answered the book agent. "You are too hard a customer to suit."

He pocketed the money and rejoined Nelson on the sidewalk. Then both started to walk away.

As they did so our hero glanced across the way and saw, in a window of the house opposite, the young lady who had offered her assistance after Billy Darnley had robbed him.

"A lady who once offered to help me," said Nelson. "She was in that house. She has left the window now."

"Mark Horton. I understood that he was once a rich merchant of Philadelphia. But he's a sickly old man now. I wanted to sell him some books, but they wouldn't let me see him."

"I hope that young lady isn't a relative to that Homer Bulson," mused Nelson. "If he is, he can't be very nice company for her."

"No, the gentleman was too sick to see me—at least that is what they said. But perhaps it was only a dodge to keep me out."

"I suppose they play all sorts of tricks on you—to keep you out of folks' houses," went on the newsboy thoughtfully.

"Yes, all of us have got to live. But lots of folks, especially those with money, won't reason that way. They'll set a dog on you, or do worse,[Pg 53] just to get rid of you. Why, once I had a man in Paterson accuse me of stealing."

"It was the first week I went out selling books. I was down on my luck and didn't have any clothes worth mentioning."

"If anything my clothes were worse. Well, I was traveling around Paterson when I struck a clothing shop on a side street. I went in and found the proprietor busy with a customer, and while I waited for him I picked up a cheap suit of clothes to examine it. All of a sudden the proprietor's clerk came rushing out of a back room and caught me by the arm.

"'I know petter,' he went on, and then he called the proprietor and both of them held me."

"I was, for I didn't know a soul in the town. I said I wasn't a thief, and had come in to sell books, and I showed them my samples. At first they wouldn't believe a word, and they talked a whole lot of German that I couldn't understand. Then one went out for a policeman."

"I didn't know what to do, and was studying the situation when the other man suddenly said I could go—that he didn't want any bother with going to court, and all that. Then I dusted away, and I never stopped until I was safe on the train and on my way back to New York."

CHAPTER VII. A HARSH ALTERNATIVE.

Homer Bulson was a fashionable man of the world. He had traveled a good deal and seen far more of a certain kind of "high life" than was good for him, either mentally or morally. He was fond of liquor and of gambling, and had almost run through the money which an indulgent parent had left him.

He was alone in the world, so far as immediate members of his family were concerned, but he had an uncle, Mark Horton, just mentioned, and also a cousin, Gertrude Horton, who was the ward of the retired merchant. This Gertrude Horton was the young lady who had offered to assist Nelson, and who had just recognized our hero from her seat at the window opposite.

In the fashionable world Homer Bulson cut a "wide swath," as it is commonly called, but he managed to keep his doings pretty well hidden from his uncle, who supposed him to be a model young man.

The young man's reason for this was, his uncle[Pg 56] was rich and at his death would leave a large property, and he wished to become heir to a large portion of what Mark Horton left behind him. He knew his uncle was a strict man, and would not countenance his high mode of living, should he hear of it.

Homer Bulson watched Nelson curiously, and then looked across the street to see if he could catch his cousin Gertrude's eye. But the young lady was now out of sight.

"How is it that she knows that street boy?" Bulson asked himself, as he walked into the house to stow away the books he had purchased. "I don't like it at all—seeing that he was with the man who sold me these books. I hope he doesn't ever tell her I've been buying books on poisons."

Entering one of his rooms—he occupied several—he locked the door and threw himself into an easy-chair. Soon he was looking over the books, and reading slowly, for his knowledge of French was decidedly limited.

"Oh, pshaw! I can't make anything out of this," he exclaimed at last. "That English book on poisons I picked up at the second-hand book store is good enough for me. I might as well put these in a fire." But instead he hid them away at the bottom of a trunk.

With the books on poisons out of his sight,[Pg 57] Homer Bulson turned to his wardrobe and made a new selection of a suit of light brown which his tailor had just brought to him.

Homer Bulson was behind four months in payments, and the agent was growing anxious for his money.

"Very sorry, Mr. Grodell, but I am just changing my clothes," said the spendthrift.

"Oh, pshaw! why does he bother me!" muttered Homer Bulson. "I haven't got any money for him."

"I know I did, but I was disappointed about a[Pg 58] remittance. I will surely have your money this coming Saturday."

"All right, Mr. Bulson. But I must have it then, or else take possession of the rooms." And with this parting shot the agent departed.

"The impudent fellow!" muttered Homer Bulson. "To talk to me in that fashion! He shall wait until I get good and ready to pay him!"

Nevertheless, the young man's pocketbook was very nearly empty, and this worried him not a little.

Several times he had thought of applying to his uncle for a loan, but each time had hesitated, being afraid that Mark Horton would suspect his extravagant mode of living.

The agent had really gone, and satisfied on this point Homer Bulson left the residence for a stroll on Fifth Avenue.

This occupied over an hour, and then he walked over to one of the clubs to which he was attached, where he dined in the best of style.

After dinner came a game or two of billiards,[Pg 59] and then he took a cab to his uncle's mansion near the Park.

He found Mark Horton seated in an invalid's chair in the library, and nearby was Gertrude trying her best to make the elderly man comfortable.

Evidently the elderly man was in a bad humor, for his eyes flashed angrily as the nephew entered.

The trouble was Mark Horton and his niece Gertrude had had something of a quarrel. The invalid wished Gertrude to marry her cousin Homer, and the girl did not desire the match, for she realized what a spendthrift and generally worthless fellow Bulson was.

Both knew that their uncle had made a will leaving his property divided equally between them, and Gertrude was almost certain that Bulson wished to marry her simply in order to gain control of everything.

The girl hated very much to displease her uncle, for she realized what troubles he had had in the past. A fearful railroad accident had deprived the man of his beloved wife years before, and shortly after this happening other trials had come to him, which had broken him down completely. What these trials were will be revealed as our story progresses.

"Uncle Mark had quite a bad attack about two hours ago," put in Gertrude Horton. "I had to send for the doctor."

"The doctor seems to do me small good," put in the invalid, in a feeble voice. "He doesn't seem to understand my case at all."

"I seem to be completely broken down," went on the invalid. "At times the strangest of sinking spells come over me. I feel very, very old."

There was a painful silence, and Gertrude rearranged the pillow behind the invalid's head.

"Did you see about those stocks to-day, Homer?" went on Mark Horton. "I had forgotten about them."

"Very well; do as he advises. Some day, when I am stronger, I must attend to many other business matters."

"Oh, Uncle Mark, don't worry about business," pleaded Gertrude, passing her arm around his neck.

There was another pause and Mark Horton gazed sharply at Gertrude. Then he turned to Homer Bulson.

"Well, I suppose she will do as she pleases," he remarked, somewhat sarcastically.

"I think I should be allowed to make my own choice," said Gertrude. She had already refused Bulson several times.

"I can't understand it," said the invalid. "To my mind you are just suited to each other."

"But I have!" cried the girl. "You go to the race-track, and drink, and gamble, and I do not like it."

A stormy scene followed, in which all three in the room took part. Strange to say, Mark Horton sided with his nephew, for he did not realize the blackness of Bulson's character.

"You are prejudiced and foolish," cried the invalid at last, turning to his niece. "You do not wish to please me in anything." And so speaking, he arose and tottered from the room. Homer Bulson made as if to follow him, then reconsidered the matter and sank back into a chair. Poor Gertrude burst into a flood of tears.

CHAPTER VIII. THE COMBINATION OF THE SAFE.

"Gertrude, you are making a great mistake," said Homer Bulson, after a pause broken only by the sobbing of the girl.

"Please don't speak to me, Homer," she answered. "I have heard enough for one day."

"It was not the truth. But let that pass. Why didn't you tell him you would marry me?"

"Oh, you aren't a saint!" he sneered. "I know why you are so loving to him—you thought to get all of his money. Now you are trying to blacken my character, so that you may get all of it, anyway. But the game won't work."

"I told him what I did simply to let him know why I didn't care to marry you, Cousin Homer."

"I do not like your ways. Isn't that enough? As for Uncle Mark's money, I trust he will live a long time to enjoy it himself."

"Uncle Mark can live but a short while longer. Anybody can see that. He is exceedingly feeble."

"I? No, indeed; I hope he does live. Haven't I done what I could for him—giving him wines and the like? And he has the best of doctors—on my recommendation."

"I don't think the wine you gave him is doing any good. He seems to become weaker after it, instead of stronger."

This was not the first time that Homer Bulson and herself had quarreled over the care their uncle should have. To the girl the retired merchant seemed to grow unexpectedly weak in spite of all she could do. The doctor, too, was baffled, and said he had never come across such a strange case before.

"If you won't marry me, you shall not turn Uncle Mark against me," went on Bulson sternly.[Pg 65] "If you try it, you will repent it as long as you live."

So speaking, he strode from the room and made after Mark Horton, who had gone to his private apartment on the second floor.

He found the retired merchant resting in an easy-chair by the window, his head bowed low.

"Cheer up, uncle," he said, placing his hand on the other's shoulder. "Let me pour you a glass of wine."

And he walked to a medicine closet in a corner and got out a bottle he had brought a few days before.

The wine was poured out and Mark Horton gulped it down. Homer Bulson watched him closely, and then turned away his face to hide a sinister smile.

"I cannot understand Gertrude," said Mark Horton. "I always thought she preferred you."

"I think she has another person in view," answered Bulson, struck with a certain idea.

"I cannot tell you his name. But he is a [Pg 66]common sort of person. He went past the house a while ago and she nodded and smiled to him."

"Oh, several months, I dare say. They meet in the evening on the sly. But please don't tell Gertrude that I spoke of this."

"I am not sure, but I think he is in the theatrical business, when he has an engagement—something on the variety stage."

"What! My Gertrude the wife of a variety actor? Never, Homer, never!" groaned Mark Horton. "This is too much! I will speak to her at once!"

"You'll be safe, Homer, never fear. But I won't have this—I'll cast her out first."

"Until after I am dead, so that she can use up my money on her actor husband," finished Mark Horton bitterly. He suddenly sprang to his feet. "But she shall marry you, Homer, and nobody else. That is final."

"Pray do not excite yourself too much, uncle. Let the matter rest for a few days."

"And if I should die in the meantime, what[Pg 67] then? No, Homer; delays are dangerous. I—I—feel as if I cannot last much longer. Who knows but what this night may prove my last?"

And Mark Horton sank back again in his chair and covered his face with his hands.

"Uncle, in case anything should happen to you, may I ask what you have done with your will?" asked Bulson, after a long pause. "Or, perhaps Gertrude knows about this?"

"Yes, she knows, but you must know, too. Both the old will and the new one are in the safe in the library, in the upper compartment on the right side. On the left side are two gold pieces which I brought home with me when I visited the mint in California."

"No, there is more gold than that—in a secret compartment at the bottom. There is a spring to open this compartment on the left side, a small gilded knob. It is right I should tell you of this, otherwise you might never find the secret compartment."

"The combination is 0, 4, 25, 12, 32, and once around to the left to 0 again. You had better put it down. I have it written on a slip in my pocketbook."

"Then it won't be necessary for me to put it down," answered the nephew, but he took good care to remember the combination, nevertheless.

It was now time for Mark Horton to retire, and, the wine having made him drowsy, he soon forgot his anger against Gertrude and went to sleep.

When Homer Bulson went below he paused in the hallway and glanced through the doorway into the library.

None of the servants were about, and the housekeeper, an elderly lady, was also nowhere to be seen.

"I wonder if I dare do it so soon?" he muttered to himself. Then he shut his teeth hard. "I must do something! I have used up my last dollar, and I can't go around empty-handed. Uncle Mark will never grow strong enough to know."

Going to the front door he opened it, then slammed it violently and made a noise as if he was descending the steps. Then he closed the door with care and stole back into the gloom of the library. It was now after midnight, a fitting time for the desperate deed this misguided young man had undertaken.

CHAPTER IX. A PAIR WELL MATCHED.

After leaving George Van Pelt Nelson felt more like working, and buying a large supply of evening papers he was soon hard at it, crying his wares as loudly as possible.

Business proved brisk, and by seven o'clock he had sold out. Then he went back to the lunch-room.

"Concluded to come back after all, eh?" he said. "Work piling up on me and nobody to help. Pitch in, quick, or I'll thrash you good; do you hear?"

The rest of the evening passed in almost utter silence between them. By ten o'clock the most of the lunch trade came to an end. At eleven Sam Pepper began to lock up.

"I'm going out," he said. "An old friend is sick. Maybe I won't be back till morning. Watch things good while I'm gone."

"None of your business. You mind what I[Pg 70] told you, and keep your mouth closed," growled the lunch-room keeper.

Nelson had noticed a heavy handbag lying in the corner of the back room, and now he saw Sam Pepper pick the bag up. As the man moved it, something inside struck together with a hard, metallic sound, as if the bag might contain tools.

When Sam Pepper went out he wore a big slouch hat and a coat which he had not donned for years. He usually wore a derby hat, and his general appearance surprised the newsboy not a little.

"He acts as if he wanted to be disguised," thought the boy. "Something is up, sure."

Then of a sudden he remembered the talk he had had with Pepper about robbing an old man—the man who had in some way been connected with his father's downfall, if Pepper's story was true. Was it possible Pepper was going to undertake the job that very night, and alone?

With the boy, to think was to act, and in a few minutes he was prepared to follow Sam Pepper. The man had locked the front door and taken the key with him. Nelson slipped out of a rear window and fastened the window from the outside by means of a nail shoved into a hole in a corner—a trick he had learned some time before.

When the boy came out on the street he ran up the thoroughfare for a couple of blocks, and was just in time to see Sam Pepper making his way up the stairs of the elevated railroad station. When the train came along Pepper entered the front car, and our hero took the car behind it. Nelson buttoned up his coat and pulled his hat far down over his eyes to escape recognition, but Sam Pepper never once looked around to see if he was being followed.

Leaving the Bowery, the elevated train continued up Third Avenue until Fifty-ninth Street was reached. Here Sam Pepper got off, and Nelson, who was on the watch, did the same. The man descended to the street and walked slowly toward Fifth Avenue. Our hero followed like a shadow. He was now certain that Pepper was bent on the robbery of the place he had mentioned that afternoon.

Mark Horton's residence stood on the avenue, but a few blocks below Central Park. As Sam Pepper had said, there was an alleyway in the rear, with a small iron fence. Beyond was a small courtyard, and here there was a balcony with an alcove window opening into the library. Over the window was a heavy curtain, which the retired merchant sometimes closed when at the safe, so that curious neighbors might not pry into his[Pg 72] affairs. But the neighbors were now away on a vacation in Europe—something which Sam Pepper had noted with considerable satisfaction.

It did not take the man long to climb over the iron fence and on to the little balcony. Noiselessly he tried the window, to find it locked. But the catch was an old-fashioned one, and he readily pushed it aside with a blade of his knife. Then he raised the window inch by inch. At last he had it high enough, and he stepped into the room, behind the heavy curtain before mentioned.

Sam Pepper was hardly in the room when something happened to give him a temporary shock. He heard the scratch of a match, and then a gas jet was lit and turned low in the room.

"I've put my foot into it," he groaned. "Maybe I had better git out as fast as I came in."

Cautiously he peeped from behind the curtain, and to his astonishment saw Homer Bulson approach the safe and kneel down before it. He also saw that Bulson was alone, and that the doors to the other parts of the mansion were tightly closed.

"Something is up that's not on the level," he told himself. "This man don't live here."

Scarcely daring to breathe, he watched Homer Bulson work at the combination of the safe. To get the strong box open was not easy, and soon[Pg 73] the fashionable young man uttered a low exclamation of impatience.

"I must have it wrong," Pepper heard him say. "Confound the luck! And I wanted that money to-night, too."

At last the safe came open, and Homer Bulson breathed a sigh of satisfaction. With trembling fingers he pulled open one of the upper drawers.

"Found!" he murmured. "I wonder if I have time to read them over, to make sure they are all right? Uncle is a queer stick and he may have made some mistake."

He brought some documents forth and began to unfold them. Then he reconsidered the matter and placed the papers on a chair beside the safe. In a moment more he had found the gilded knob, pressed upon it, and opened the secret compartment at the bottom of the strong box.

The sight that met his gaze caused his eyes to glisten. There were several stacks of ten- and twenty-dollar gold pieces—at least two thousand dollars in all. Without waiting he placed a large handful of the coins in the outer pocket of his coat.

"I won't take it all—it won't be safe," he murmured. "I can get more some other time—if I need it." Then he shut the compartment.

Sam Pepper had seen the gold, and it set his heart to thumping madly. Here was more wealth[Pg 74] than he had seen in many a day—right within his reach. Why had not the young man taken it all?

A second later a big fly, awakened by the swinging of the curtain and the light, buzzed close to Pepper's ear and caused him to start. At the same moment Homer Bulson glanced up and caught sight of the other's face.

"Hush!" cried Sam Pepper warningly. "Hush, unless you want to wake up the whole house."

"Never mind about that. Why didn't you take all of the gold from the safe while you were at it?"

"I—er—what do you know of the gold?" stammered Homer Bulson. He was pale and confused.

"Well, if I am a burglar, you won't give me away, for you are a burglar yourself."

"I reckon we might divide up on this job," went on Sam Pepper with a boldness that was astonishing.

"If you refuse, perhaps I'll make it mighty unpleasant for you. I know you. You are Homer Bulson, the fashionable nephew of Mark Horton, and the man who expects to come into a good share of his property when he dies."

"I am a man who used to be up in the world, but one who is now down on his luck. I want you to help me. If you will, I'll help you."

"If you aint, you aint any better," he growled. "Let me tell you I know a thing or two. I didn't[Pg 76] come here blindly. I know all about Mark Horton and his niece, and you—and I know a good deal more—about the past. You and that girl expect to get his property. Well, maybe you will, and then, again, maybe you won't."

"Hush! not so loud, or you'll have the rest of the house down on us," Sam Pepper leaned forward and whispered something into the young man's ear. "There, how do you like that?"

"It's true, I tell you, and I can prove it—if I want to. But I'm not his friend. Now are you willing to make a deal with me?"

"Yes! yes!" groaned the young man. "First, however, you must prove your words. But that can't be done here. Come to my bachelor apartment, across the way. There we will be perfectly safe."

"Well, you shall have some—as much as I took, but no more," concluded Homer Bulson, and opened the secret compartment again.

CHAPTER X. GERTRUDE LEAVES HER HOME.

Under ordinary circumstances he would have notified a policeman of what was going on. But he reflected that Pepper had done him many kindnesses in the past, and that it was barely possible the man was not doing as much of a wrong as he imagined.

"I'll wait a while and see what turns up," he soliloquized, and hid himself in a dark corner, where he could watch not only the library window, but also the side alleyway leading to the street in front of the mansion.

Slowly the minutes wore away until Nelson felt certain that Sam Pepper was going to remain inside all night.

"Perhaps something happened to him," he thought. "Maybe he got a fit, or somebody caught him."

He waited a while longer, then, impelled by[Pg 78] curiosity, approached the balcony, climbed up, and tried to look into the window of the library.

As he did this the curtain was suddenly thrust aside, and in the dim light he found himself face to face with Gertrude Horton!

He was so astonished that, for the moment, he did not know what to say or do. Gertrude was equally amazed. She quickly raised the window.

"What brought you here?" she questioned. "Did you make the noise I heard a while ago?"

"But I heard a noise. It was that which brought me downstairs. What are you doing here?"

"I saw nobody. But I heard a noise, as I said before. I guess I had better investigate. Did the man look like a thief?"

It must be confessed that our hero's head was in a whirl. What had become of Sam Pepper? Was it possible that he had robbed the mansion and made his escape without discovery? And if[Pg 79] he was gone, should he expose the man who, good or bad, had cared for him so many years?

Gertrude was looking around for a match, and now she lit the gas and turned it up full. She had scarcely done so when her eyes rested on a ten-dollar gold piece lying in front of the safe.

"Here is another, miss," returned Nelson, stepping into the room and picking it up from where it had rolled behind a footstool. "Twenty dollars! Gracious!"

The voice came from the hallway, and looking around the girl and our hero saw Mark Horton standing there, clad in his dressing gown and slippers. His face was filled with anger.

"So I have caught you, have I?" went on the retired merchant. He turned to our hero. "Who are you, young man?"

"Fine company you keep, Gertrude, I must say," sneered Mark Horton. "I would not have believed it, had I not seen it with my own eyes."

"Don't talk back to me. I know all about your doings. You wish——" The retired merchant broke off short. "What is that in your hand? A gold piece, as I live! And this young man has another! Ha! you have been at my safe!"

Pale with rage, Mark Horton tottered into the room and clutched Gertrude by the arm.

"To think it has come to this!" groaned the invalid. "My own niece turned robber! It is too much! Too much!" And he sank into an armchair, overcome.

"Silence, you shameful boy! I know her perhaps better than you do, even though you do come to see her on the sly."

"I know what I am saying. I will not argue with you. How much have you taken from the safe?"

"I will soon see." Mark Horton glanced at the window, which was still wide open. "Is anybody else outside?"

Arising with an effort, the retired merchant staggered to the safe and opened it. Then he opened the secret compartment.

"Gone! At least six hundred dollars stolen!" he muttered. He turned upon both of the others. "What have you done with that gold?"

"This is all I have, and I just picked that up," added our hero and flung the piece on the table, beside that which the girl had picked up.

"I will not believe it!" stormed Mark Horton, more in a rage than ever. He turned to Nelson. "You took that money away and then thought to come back for more. Or perhaps you came back to see Gertrude."

"You are a thief, and this girl is your accomplice. Stop, did you not go past the house this afternoon?"

"Oh, Uncle Mark! what are you saying?" sobbed Gertrude. Her heart was so full she could scarcely speak. She had always treated her uncle with every consideration, and to have him turn against her in this fashion cut her to the quick.

"What, going to throw her out of this house—out of her home!" ejaculated Nelson. "Sir, I don't know you, but I think you must be off in your mind."

"I am not so crazy as you imagine. I am sick—nay, I have one foot in the grave. But this shameless girl shall no longer hoodwink me. As soon as daylight comes she shall leave this house, and she shall never set foot in it again."

"I will waste no further words on you, young man. Out you go, or I will call a policeman at once."

"Oh, uncle, don't do that!" burst out Gertrude. "I will go away, if you insist upon it."

"I do insist upon it. Pack your things at once. If it were not night I would insist upon your leaving now."

"I'll not send for you," finished Mark Horton quickly. "I never want to see you again." He turned to our hero. "Are you going, or must I call an officer?" he added harshly.

"I will go," said Nelson. He paused as if wishing to say more, then leaped through the window and disappeared into the darkness of the alleyway.

As our hero left the library by the window, Gertrude left by the hall door. Slowly she mounted the steps to her own room. Once inside, she threw herself on the bed in a passionate fit of weeping. But this did not last long. Inside of half an hour she was packing a traveling case with such things as she absolutely needed.

"I will take nothing else," she told herself. "His money bought them and they shall remain here."

At last her preparations were complete, and she stole downstairs with her traveling case in her hand. She looked into the library, to see her uncle sitting in a heap in the armchair.

He would say no more, and she turned, opened[Pg 84] the door to the street, and passed outside. He listened as she hurried down the steps and along the silent street. When he could no longer hear her footsteps he sank back again into the armchair.

"Gone!" he muttered. "Gone, and I drove her away! What a miserable man I am! What a miserable man!" And then he threw himself down again. He remained in the armchair for the rest of the night, weaker than ever, and tortured by an anguish he could not put into words.

CHAPTER XI. AFLOAT IN NEW YORK.

Once out on the street again, Nelson did not know which way to turn or what to do. He was bewildered, for the scene between Gertrude and her uncle had been more than half a mystery to him.

"He suspects her of stealing, but I don't," he told himself bluntly. "Such a girl, with such eyes, would never steal. He wouldn't think so if he was in his right mind. I guess his sickness has turned his brain." And in the latter surmise our hero was partly correct.

Slowly he walked to the end of the block, then, struck by a sudden thought, came back. If the young lady did really come out, he meant to see her and have another talk with her.

The newsboy was still some distance from the mansion when, on looking across the way, he saw the door of the house in which Homer Bulson lived open, and a second later beheld Sam Pepper come out.

"Gracious—Sam!" he cried to himself, and lost no time in hiding behind a convenient stoop. Soon Pepper passed by, and our hero saw him continue on his way along Fifth Avenue until Fifty-ninth Street was reached.

"He's going home," thought Nelson. "I ought to get down there before him. What will he say if he finds me missing?"

He was now more perplexed than ever. What had Sam Pepper been doing in the house in which Homer Bulson lived? Had the man robbed that place, and had he himself made a mistake in regard to the Horton mansion?

"It's too deep for me," he mused. "I'll never get to the bottom of it. But that young lady—hullo, here she comes, sure enough!"

He stepped behind the stoop again and waited. In a moment Gertrude passed him. Evidently the darkness and the strange silence frightened her. When Nelson came out of his hiding place she started back.

"Yes. He is Mark Horton and I am Gertrude Horton, his dead brother's only child."

"My father was poor and Uncle Mark has taken care of me for years. He wanted me to marry my cousin, Homer Bulson, and it made him angry when I refused."

"I've met him. He tried to cheat a friend of mine out of a sale of some books. He acted the sneak."

"But that didn't give him the right to call you a thief," put in our hero warmly.

"I don't know what my real name is, Miss Gertrude. They all call me Nelson the Newsboy. I live with a man named Pepper. He keeps a lunch-room on the East Side, and I sell papers for a living. I don't know where I came from."

"It is too bad. But you are better off than I[Pg 88] am—you have a home," she added, her eyes filling again with tears.

"Don't you worry. I'll help you all I can," said Nelson sympathetically. "But about this affair of the safe—I can't make head or tail of that."

"Nor can I, Nelson. I came downstairs, having heard some strange noises. But everything seemed to be all right. Then I looked out of the window and saw you."

"I saw a man go into the alleyway, back of the house," answered our hero lamely. "I'll be real truthful with you and tell you that I know the man, and that he has done lots of good things for me. Well, I thought the man got into that library window, although it was pretty dark and I might have been mistaken."

"Then I must have made a mistake." And our hero drew a sigh of relief. Perhaps, after all, Sam Pepper was innocent.

"One thing is sure, some money was gone, and we found those gold pieces on the floor," went on Gertrude. "Who could have opened the safe?"

"Then that's what made it look black for you. The safe wasn't forced open, that's sure. Somebody opened it who knew the combination."

"The money might have been taken some time ago," said Gertrude. "Anyway, it is gone, and you and I are supposed to be the thieves." She smiled bitterly. "How strange! and we hardly know each other!"

"And I don't see any way of clearing ourselves," said the newsboy, with equal bitterness. "But let that drop. What are you going to do? Going to some friend's house?"

"I have no friends here. You see, we came from Philadelphia, and I am not much acquainted as yet."

"Then you'll go to Philadelphia? If you wish, I'll carry that bag and see you to the train."

"No, I'm not going to Philadelphia. I would rather remain in New York, near my uncle. He may need me some day."

"He's a hard-hearted man!" burst out the newsboy. "I don't see how he could treat you so mean!"

"It is his sickness makes him so, Nelson; he[Pg 90] was never so before." Gertrude heaved a long sigh. "I must say I really do not know what to do."

"Then I'll give you what I've got," answered Nelson promptly, and drew out what little money he possessed.

"It aint any robbery," he answered. "Come, you must take it." And he forced it into her hand. "I know an old lady who'll take you in," he continued suddenly. "Her name is Mrs. Kennedy. She's only a fruit and candy woman, but she's got a heart as big as a balloon. She's a nice, neat woman, too."

The matter was talked over for a few minutes, and Gertrude consented to go to the two rooms which Mrs. Kennedy called her home.

These were close to Third Avenue, and late as it was, they boarded a train and rode down. The[Pg 91] building was dark, and Nelson had some trouble in rousing the old woman.

"To be sure I'll take the lady in, Nelson," said Mrs. Kennedy, when the situation was partly explained. "Come in, miss, and welcome."

Gertrude was glad enough to enter and drop into a chair, and here our hero left her, and at once hurried down to the lunch-room with all speed.

Not wishing to arouse Sam Pepper if he was asleep, he went around to the rear window, opened that, and crawled through.

"I'm lucky, after all," he thought, and undressed with all speed. Hardly had he crawled into bed when Pepper came in. He lit the gas and looked at our hero, but Nelson snored and pretended to be fast asleep. Sam appeared relieved at this, and soon retired. His bag, which he had brought with him, he placed under his bed, in a corner next to the wall.

The newsboy could not sleep, and from the time he lay down until daylight appeared he turned and tossed on his cot, reviewing in a hundred ways all that had occurred. But he could reach no satisfactory conclusion. The one thing, however, which remained fixed in his mind was that Gertrude Horton was now homeless, and he felt that[Pg 92] he must, in some measure at least, look out for her.

"I don't suppose I can do much," he thought dismally. "But what I can do I will, that's certain."

Long before Sam Pepper was stirring Nelson was up and dressed. As he was going out Pepper roused up.

"I've got to hustle, if I want to make any money." And so speaking, Nelson left the place.

He was soon down at "Newspaper Row," as it is commonly called, that part of Park Row and Nassau Street where are congregated the offices of nearly all of the metropolitan dailies. He had not a cent in his pocket, but this did not bother him. He soon found Paul Randall, who was being shoved right and left in the big crowd of boys who all wanted to get papers at once.

"And I'd like to borrow a dollar, Paul," he went on. "I had to give up every cent I had."

"That's too bad, Nelson," replied Paul. "I[Pg 93] can't loan you a dollar. All I've got extra is sixty-five cents. You can have that."

He took all of Paul's money and started into the crowd, to get papers for his friend and himself.

He was struggling to get to the front when, on chancing to look to one side, he caught sight of Billy Darnley, the newsboy bully who had robbed him of the five dollars.

CHAPTER XII. NELSON RECOVERS SOME MONEY.

The bully saw Nelson and instantly ducked his head. He, too, was after newspapers, but now thought it best to quit the scene.

"I didn't t'ink he'd be here so early," he muttered, and pushed to the rear of the crowd. Once in the open, he took to his heels and dashed down Frankfort Street in the direction of the Brooklyn Bridge arches.

But Nelson was not to be "lost" so readily, and he was out of the crowd almost as soon as the bully.

There now ensued a race which was highly exciting, even if not of long duration. Darnley was swift of foot, and the fear of what might follow lent speed to his flying feet. But Nelson was also a good runner.

At the corner of Rose Street were a number of[Pg 95] heavy trucks. Darnley managed to pass these, but it took time. When our hero came up, the trucks blocked the street completely.

In and out Nelson dodged among the trucks, between the wheels and under the very hoofs of the heavy horses. In a twinkle he was clear of the mass and again making after Darnley, who was now flying toward Vandewater Street.

At this point there is a large archway under the approach to the Brooklyn Bridge, and toward this archway the bully directed his footsteps. But Nelson was now close at hand, and underneath the archway he succeeded in reaching the big newsboy, catching him firmly by the arm.

Instead of complying our hero grasped the bully by the throat and ran him up against the stonework of the arch.

The bully struggled fiercely, and so did Nelson. Down went both on the pavement and rolled over and over. But our hero's blood was up, and he put forth every ounce of strength he possessed. At last he had Darnley flat on his back, and then he sat astride of the bully.

"This aint a fight," said Nelson loudly. "He's a thief, and stole five dollars from me. He's got to give it up."

He caught Darnley by the throat again, and now the bully was only too glad to give in.

"Now I'm going to search you," went on Nelson, in as determined a voice as ever.

"No, no!" pleaded Darnley in alarm. He did not like the crowd that was gathering.

"That's right, search him," put in another newsboy, named Wilson. "I think he stole something from me last week."

There were brought to light another dollar, which our hero also pocketed, a pearl-handled pocket-knife, a silver badge, and half a dozen other articles.

"So it is, Nat," said Frank Wilson. "And this is my badge—the one I won in the newsboys' competition last month."

The boys took the things, and then gathered around Billy Darnley with clenched fists. Nelson slipped outside of the crowd, and Paul went with him.

In vain Billy Darnley tried to clear himself of the other lads. He struck one boy down, but the others pounced upon him front and rear, and soon had him again on his back. It looked like a [Pg 98]football scrimmage, but the ball in this case seemed to be the bully's head. For ten minutes the tussle went on, and when at last the cry of "Cop! cop! run for it!" arose, Darnley found himself with his nose bleeding, two teeth loose, and his left eye all but closed. Moreover, his coat was torn to shreds.

"He's a thief!" exclaimed one of the other boys, but from a safe distance. "He stole something from three of the boys, he did. He didn't git nuthin' but what was comin' to him, officer."

"That's right; he ought to be locked up," put in another boy, also from a safe distance.

"Begone with you!" said the policeman sternly, and gave Darnley a shove. "If I see any more fighting I'll run you all in," and he walked away, twirling his club as he did so.

"Oh, me eye!" groaned Darnley, and limped away, a sadder if not a wiser youth. It was many a day before he dared to show himself in Newspaper Row again.

"Well, I got back three dollars and ten cents," remarked Nelson, as he and Paul walked up Frankfort Street, "so I won't need your loan.[Pg 99] But, just the same, I am much obliged." And he passed over the money.

"I wish you had gotten it all, Nelson," said Paul earnestly. "Oh, but didn't they just pitch into Billy! And it served him right, too."

He soon had the papers he and Paul wanted, and then the pair separated, and our hero hurried over to his old stand on Broadway.

His clothing had suffered considerably from the encounter with the bully and, though he brushed himself off as best he could, he felt that he made far from a handsome appearance.

"I must look better than this before I call on Miss Horton," he mused. "If I don't, she'll take me for a regular tramp."

He wondered if there would be anything in the newspapers about the robbery in Fifth Avenue, and snatched a few moments to scan several sheets. But not a word appeared.

"I guess they are too high-toned to let it get into print," he reasoned. "Well, it's a good thing. I guess it would almost kill Miss Gertrude to see it in the papers."

When Nelson got back to the lunch-room he found business was poor, and he expected to see Sam Pepper ill-humored in consequence. On the[Pg 100] contrary, however, Pepper was all smiles, and even hummed a tune to himself as he waited on his customers.

"Something has happened to tickle him," thought the boy. "Or else he's got a new plan on hand."

"Much better, Nelson. And what do you think? He's loaned me money to turn this place into a first-class café. Don't you think that will pay better than a common lunch-room?"

"Rip out that old show window and put in a new and elegant glass front, and put in a new bar and buffet. It will be as fine as anything around here when it's finished."

"So there is." Sam Pepper mused for a moment. "Maybe my friend will advance enough for that, too."

The two were in the kitchen at the time, and Sam Pepper had a frying pan in his hand.

"See here, Nelson, I'll whack you over the head with this, if you talk like that!" exclaimed the man, flying into a rage.

"You talk as if you knew something," went on Pepper, growing suddenly suspicious.

"Perhaps I do know something," replied the newsboy, and then hurried into the dining room to wait on a customer who had just entered.

"I'll have it out with you later," muttered Pepper savagely. "If you know too much, I'll find a way to keep your mouth closed."

CHAPTER XIII. A QUESTION OF BUSINESS.

Sam Pepper got no chance to talk to Nelson further that day. As soon as the noon trade was over, our hero hurried off to sell afternoon papers. This time he went up the Bowery, to where Mrs. Kennedy kept her fruit-and-candy stand. It was a small stand, and the entire stock was not worth over ten dollars, but the old woman made enough to keep the wolf from the door, and she was content.

"I was after thinking you'd come," she said, smiling broadly. "I knew you'd want to know about the young lady."

"I left her this morning, sorrowful enough, I can tell ye that, Nelson. She don't know how to turn. She thinks she might take in sewing, or something like that, but, bless ye! how much would she make at that? Why, thim Jews that work night and day hardly make enough to keep 'em from starving!"

"Yes, I know it, and it's a shame," said the[Pg 103] boy. "They get about five cents for a pair of pants and ten cents for a coat, and some of 'em make shirts for three and four cents apiece. I don't see how they stand it. No, she wouldn't earn anything at that."

"I was a-telling her of Gladys Summers, who sells flowers up on Fourteenth Street and at the theater doors, but she said she didn't want to go out on the street. She's afraid some of her friends would see her, I suppose."

"She hasn't any friends—'cepting you and me, Mrs. Kennedy. We've got to do for her."

"It's little I can offer, Nelson; ye know that well enough. She can stay under my roof, but to board her——"

"I'll pay her board, until she finds something to do. I'll give you three dollars a week for keeping her."

"Will ye now? Nelson, you're more than kind-hearted. But where will ye be after getting the money?"

"I'll earn it," he answered resolutely. "I earn a dollar and over a day now, and I know I can make it more, if I try real hard."

He soon left the fruit-and-candy stand and started in to sell papers. He felt that he had a new responsibility on his shoulders, and he determined to do his best. Soon his efforts began to[Pg 104] tell, and by five o'clock he was sold out, and the day's earnings amounted to a dollar and thirty-two cents.

"Half for Miss Horton and half for myself," he murmured. "That's the way it's got to be, after this."

He was soon on his way to the tenement house in which Mrs. Kennedy's rooms were located. Ascending two flights of stairs, he knocked on one of the doors.

A glance at the girl's face told the boy that she had been crying. More than this he saw she was far from well, and the hand she gave him was as hot as fire.

She sank down on a dilapidated lounge, and he took a kitchen chair. He saw that she trembled from head to foot, and that she had been worrying ever since he had left her.

"You mustn't worry too much," he said, as kindly as he could. "Mrs. Kennedy says you can stay here as long as you feel like it."

"But she is poor, Nelson, and I—I haven't any money, excepting what you gave me, and you must take that back—you need it."

"No, I don't need it, Miss Gertrude. See, I've got a lot of money now. I collared that thief and made him give up what he had left, over three dollars—and I've earned the rest selling papers. That's why I didn't come before. I've fixed it up with Mrs. Kennedy, and you can stay just as long as you please."

"And you are going to pay her?" cried the girl warmly. "Oh, Nelson! you are indeed good-hearted. But, no; I must support myself."

"Well, you needn't hurry about it. I can earn enough for both of us just now—and that's what I am going to do. Why shouldn't I? It was my fault that your uncle put you out."

"No, Nelson; the fault, if it was a fault, was my own. The matter was of long standing. Homer Bulson had wished to marry me for a long time, but I have constantly refused him. Now he has gotten my uncle to side with him. They expect to bring me to terms, I suppose. More than likely my uncle thought I would come back to-day, to do as he wishes."

"I shall not. I have made up my mind fully. I will support myself, and Homer Bulson can have[Pg 106] Uncle Mark's whole estate, if he wishes it. Surely, in such a big city as this there is something I can do."

"You might get a position in a store. Or maybe you know how to play the piano?" went on our hero suddenly.

"I do know how to play. I took instructions for several years, and have played at private concerts, in Philadelphia."

"We'll advertise in the papers," went on the newsboy, with some importance. "I know an advertising man down on the Row. He says anybody can do business by advertising. I'll ask him about it. Of course you'll want to give lessons at folks' houses—being as you haven't a piano of your own."

"Yes," answered Gertrude, and her face brightened greatly. "I could do that, and I would go cheaply first, to get a start."

"No, have the letters sent to the newspaper offices, and sign the advertisement——" Gertrude paused in thought.

"It might be too grand for the folks we wish to reach," said Gertrude. "Sign it 'Earnest.'"

"Then I'll tell the advertising man that. Oh, he's a dandy to write the ads up—makes 'em look like regular bargains!" added the boy enthusiastically.

Nelson remained at the rooms a while longer, and then hurried to Sam Pepper's place. To his surprise Pepper had locked up, and on the window was the sign:

"He hasn't lost any time in going ahead," thought our hero. "I wonder where he is?"

"Sam's out of town," called out a bootblack who had some chairs close by. "Told me to give you this." And he passed over an envelope, containing a sheet of paper and the store key. On the sheet was written:

"Gone away for two or three days," thought Nelson. "I wonder what he is up to now?"

He went inside, and saw at once that many of the old fixtures had been removed, and that the little kitchen in the rear had been turned almost inside out. The living apartment, however, was as it had been, excepting that Sam Pepper had used it for packing purposes, and the floor was strewn with bits of paper and some excelsior.

"If I'm to stay here, I might as well clean up," thought our hero, and set to work with a broom. "And then I'll take an hour off and clean and mend my clothes."

In cleaning up Nelson came across several letters, which were old and mussed. Whether Sam Pepper had thought to throw them away or not, he did not know. To make sure, he picked the letters up and looked them over.

The letters were addressed to Pepperill Sampson and were signed Mark Horton. The majority of them concerned some orders for dry goods to be shipped to various Western cities, but[Pg 109] there was one which was not of that nature. This ran in part as follows:

The letter was dated twelve years back, and had been sent to Pepperill Sampson while he was stopping in Cleveland. Nelson read the communication twice before he put it away.

Who was Pepperill Sampson? The name[Pg 110] sounded as if it might belong to Sam Pepper. Were the two one and the same person?

"They must be the same," thought Nelson. "Sam was once a commercial traveler after he gave up the sea, and I've heard him speak of Cleveland and other Western towns. But to think he once worked for Mark Horton!" He scratched his head reflectively. "Let me see, what did Sam say about the man he wanted me to rob? That he had helped the man who had shot my father. Is there really something in this? And if there is, what can Mark Horton know about the past?"

CHAPTER XIV. BULSON RECEIVES A SETBACK.

The mystery was too much for Nelson, and at last he put the letters on a shelf and finished the cleaning. Then he sat down to mend his clothing, and never did a seamstress work more faithfully than did this newsboy. The garments mended, he brushed them carefully.

"There, they look a little better, anyway," he told himself. "And sooner or later I'll have a new suit."

Having finished his toilet, he walked down to Newspaper Row. The tall buildings were now a blaze of lights, and many men of business were departing for their homes. But the newsboy found his friend in his office, a little box of a place on an upper floor of the World building.

The advertising man had always taken an interest in our hero, and he readily consented to transact the business gratis. The advertisements were written out to the boy's satisfaction, and Nelson paid two dollars to have them inserted in several papers the next day and that following.

"If the young lady is a good teacher, I might[Pg 112] get her to give my little girl lessons," said Mr. Lamson, as Nelson was leaving.

"I know she's all right, sir," answered the boy. "Just give her a trial and see. She's a real lady, too, even if she is down on her luck."

"Then let her call on my wife to-morrow morning. I'll speak to my wife about it to-night."

"I will, sir, and thank you very much, Mr. Lamson." And our hero went off, greatly pleased. Late as it was, he walked up to Mrs. Kennedy's rooms again. This time the old Irishwoman herself let him in.

"I've got good news, Miss Gertrude," he said, on entering. "I put the advertisements in the papers through Mr. Lamson, and he told me that you might call on his wife to-morrow morning about giving his little girl lessons."

"Hear that now!" exclaimed Mrs. Kennedy proudly. "Sure, and it takes Nelson to do things, so it does! It meself wishes I had such a b'y."

"Yes, here it is, on the back of his business card. I know you'll like the place, and maybe they can put you in the way of other places."

"Av course," said Mrs. Kennedy. "Before I had rheumatism I wint out washing, and wan place always brought me another, from some rilative or friend of the family."

"I will go directly after breakfast," said Gertrude. "And I hope I shall prove satisfactory."

Knowing the girl must be tired, Nelson did not stay long, and as soon as he had departed Mrs. Kennedy made Gertrude retire. Happily for the girl her headache was now much better, and she slept soundly.

In the morning she helped Mrs. Kennedy prepare their frugal repast. As the old Irishwoman had said, she was troubled with rheumatism, and could not get around very well. So Gertrude insisted upon clearing the table and washing the dishes.

"But, sure, and a lady like you aint used to this work," remonstrated Mrs. Kennedy.

"I mean to get used to it," answered Gertrude. "I mean to fight my way through and put up with what comes."

Mr. Lamson's home was over a mile away, but not wishing to spend the carfare Gertrude walked the distance.

She was expected, and found Mrs. Lamson a nice lady, who occupied a flat of half a dozen[Pg 114] rooms on a quiet and respectable side street. She played several selections, two from sight, which the lady of the house produced.

"That is very good indeed, Miss Horton," said Mrs. Lamson. "You read music well. Little Ruth can begin at once, and you can give her a lesson once a week. Ruth, this is Miss Horton, your new music-teacher."

A girl of nine came shyly forward and shook hands. Soon Gertrude was giving her first lesson in music. It was rather long, but Ruth did not mind it. Then Mrs. Lamson paid the fifty cents, and Gertrude went away.

"She is certainly a lady," was Mrs. Lamson's comment. "It is easy to see that by her breeding."

A new look shone in Gertrude's eyes as she hurried down the street. In her pocket was the first money she had ever earned in her life. She felt a spirit of independence that was as delightful as it was novel.

She had already seen her advertisements in two of the papers, and she trusted they would bring her enough pupils to fill her time. She felt that she could easily give five or six lessons a day. If she could get ten or twelve pupils, that would[Pg 115] mean five or six dollars per week, and if she could get twenty pupils it would mean ten dollars.

"I wish I could get the twenty. Then I could help Nelson. He is so very kind, I would like to do something in return for him," was her thought.

The weather was so pleasant she decided to take a little walk. She did not know much about the lower portion of the city, and walked westward until she reached Broadway, not far from where our hero was in the habit of selling morning papers.

Gertrude was looking into the show window of a store, admiring some pretty pictures, when she felt a tap on her shoulder, and turning, found herself face to face with Homer Bulson.

"Gertrude!" exclaimed the young man. "I have been looking high and low for you! Where have you been keeping yourself?"

"I haven't made any trouble—you made that yourself," he answered, somewhat ruffled by her tone.

"No, I can't say that," answered Homer Bulson smoothly. "But he doesn't want you to suffer. He said, if I saw you, I should give you some money."

"About as usual. You must have upset him very much. Of course I don't believe you took any money out of his safe," went on Bulson. "I guess the guilty party was that young rascal who called on you."

"Thank you for that, Miss Gertrude," came from behind the pair, and our hero stepped up. "Mr. Bulson, you haven't any right to call me a thief," he went on, confronting the fashionable young man.

"Go away, boy; I want nothing to do with you," answered Bulson. Nevertheless, he looked curiously at our hero.

"Yes, you. You tried to swindle a friend of mine out of the sale of some books you had ordered from him. I call that downright mean."

"Boy, don't dare to talk to me in this fashion!" stormed the young man. "If you do, I'll—I'll hand you over to the police."

"No, you won't. You just leave me alone and I'll leave you alone," answered the newsboy. "And you leave Miss Gertrude alone, too," he added warmly.

"Then you won't accept my protection?" said Bulson, turning his back on our hero.

"No. If Uncle Mark wishes to write to me he can address me in care of the General Post Office," answered Gertrude.

"All right; then I'll bid you good-day," said Homer Bulson, and tipping his silk hat, he hurried on and was soon lost to sight on the crowded thoroughfare.

"I both hate and fear him," answered Gertrude. "I am afraid he intends to cause me a great deal of trouble."

CHAPTER XV. BUYING OUT A NEWS STAND.

After the above incident several weeks slipped by without anything out of the ordinary happening.

In the meantime Sam Pepper's place was thoroughly remodeled and became a leading café on the East Side—a resort for many characters whose careers would not stand investigation. The man seemed wrapped up in his business, but his head was busy with schemes of far greater importance.

He had said but little to Nelson, who spent a good part of his time at Mrs. Kennedy's rooms with Gertrude. Sam had found the letters and put them in a safe place without a word, and the boy had not dared to question him about them. Nor had Pepper questioned Nelson concerning what the lad knew or suspected.

The results of Gertrude's advertising were not as gratifying as anticipated; still the girl obtained seven pupils, which brought her in three dollars[Pg 120] and a half weekly. Most of the lessons had to be given on Saturdays, when her pupils were home from school, and this made it necessary that she ride from house to house, so that thirty-five cents of the money went for carfare.

"Never mind," said the newsboy; "it's better than nothing, and you'll get more pupils, sooner or later."

The boy himself worked as never before, getting up before sunrise and keeping at it with "sporting extras" until almost midnight. In this manner he managed to earn sometimes as high as ten dollars per week. He no longer helped Pepper around his resort, and the pair compromised on three dollars per week board money from Nelson. The rest of the money our hero either saved or offered to Gertrude. All he spent on himself was for the suit, shoes, and hat he had had so long in his mind.

"I declare, you look like another person!" cried the girl, when he presented himself in his new outfit, and with his hair neatly trimmed, and his face and hands thoroughly scrubbed. "Nelson, I am proud of you!" And she said this so heartily that he blushed furiously. Her gentle influence was beginning to have its effect, and our hero was resolved to make a man of himself in the best meaning of that term.

"Eight dollars. I wish we could buy out that news stand. I am sick of tramping around trying to sell books," went on George Van Pelt. "Last week I was over in Jersey City, and one woman set her dog on me."

"The owner says he's going to sell out sure by next week. He told me he would take ninety dollars cash. He's going away and don't want a mortgage now."

"That makes fifty-five dollars. We'll want thirty-five more. How can we get that amount?"

"The man won't wait. There's a party will give him seventy-five dollars cash right away. He's going to take that if he can't get ninety."

At that moment Nelson caught sight of the familiar figure of a stout gentleman crossing the street toward him, and ran out to meet the party.

"Hullo! you're the boy that saved me from being run over a few weeks ago," returned the stout gentleman.

"I'll have a Sun and a Journal, and you can give me a Times, too. How is business?"

"I was in a hurry that day, or I would have stopped to reward you," went on the gentleman.

"Did I? I had forgotten. You see, that fire in Harlem was in a house of mine. I was terribly upset. But the matter is all straightened out now."

"No, the loss went to the insurance companies." The stout gentleman paused. "My[Pg 123] lad, I would like to do something for you," he went on seriously.

"I mean one of those gentlemen that loan money out on business? I've heard of 'em, down in Wall Street."

"Then I'd like to borrow thirty-five dollars." Nelson beckoned to George Van Pelt, who had moved off a short distance. "You see, it's this way," he went on, and then told about the news stand that was for sale, and what he and the book agent wished to do.

"We'll work hard and build it up," said our hero. "I know that neighborhood well. Old Maxwell never 'tended to business. I'll go[Pg 124] around and get twice as large a paper route as he ever had. And we can keep plenty of ten-cent paper-covered books, and all that."

"And we can keep things for school children, too," put in George Van Pelt. "There is a school near by, and many of the children pass the stand four times a day."

"Well, I'll give you fifty dollars, Nelson," said Mr. Barrow. "That will help you to buy the stand and give you fifteen dollars working capital."

"But why won't you let me give it to you?" laughed the stout gentleman. "Isn't my life worth that?"

"Never mind the mortgage. I believe I can read faces, and I'll take the boy's word," answered Mr. Barrow.

Hauling out a fat pocketbook, he counted out five new ten-dollar bills and passed them over to our hero.

"There you are," he said. "I would rather[Pg 125] you would keep them. But if not, you can pay the amount back whenever it is convenient." And he passed over his business card. A few minutes later he hurried on.

"All right," answered Nelson. "But I want to get rid of my morning papers first."

"Well, I have several books to deliver. I'll do that, and then we can meet at the stand after dinner."

Business continued good with our hero, and by eleven o'clock he had sold out. Anxious to look the stand over, he hurried off in that direction.

He found old Maxwell sitting on a soap-box, reading a sporting paper. The stand was full of dust and the stock much disarranged. Evidently the owner had lost interest in it.

A bill of sale was drawn up, and Nelson paid the fifty dollars on account. Then he went off for lunch; first, however, taking an account of the stock on hand.

CHAPTER XVI. NELSON AND PEPPER PART.

Nelson remained on watch, and as soon as he saw George Van Pelt coming he headed him off and took him around the corner.

"Yes. I had a talk with old Maxwell, offered him eighty cash, and he took me up. So we've saved ten dollars."

So it was arranged, and Nelson went to the stand and closed the deal. Old Maxwell had taken in thirty-two cents, and this was passed over to the boy.

"Oh, that's it, is it?" exclaimed old Maxwell. "I thought he wanted the stand himself."

Nelson beckoned to Van Pelt, and soon both were hard at work cleaning up the stand. They talked the matter over and agreed to give old Maxwell a dollar more, if he would come around for two mornings and explain whatever proved strange to them.

"Sure, I'll do it," said Maxwell. "I want you to get the best of the man up on the elevated station and the man on the next block. They are both mean fellows and don't deserve any trade."

It must be confessed that he felt very proud of his situation. He was no longer a mere newsboy, but a business man, and he felt, somehow, as if he had grown several inches taller.

"We must have a sign," said Van Pelt. "What will we make it—Van Pelt & Pepper, Newsdealers?"

"I don't like the name Pepper—for a last name, I mean," said our hero, scratching his curly head. "Better make it Van Pelt & Company, for the present." And the next day an oilcloth sign was tacked up proclaiming the new firm, and notifying[Pg 129] all that they dealt in newspapers, magazines, books, and school supplies. While Nelson tended the stand George Van Pelt went downtown to a jobbing house and bought some extra stock. In a few days business was in full blast and prospects looked very bright.

"I am glad to see you doing well," said Gertrude, on visiting the stand one Saturday, after giving her music lessons. "It looks quite like a place of business. It won't be long before you'll have a store."

He wanted the girl to stay a little while, but she could not, for Mrs. Kennedy was down with rheumatism and was next to helpless.

"She has been very kind to me and I wish to do what I can for her," said Gertrude.

"No, Gladys Summers is running it for her. She has put her flowers in with the other stock."

"Going into business with George Van Pelt, eh?" he observed, when Nelson came home that night.

"I'm paying all it's worth now. I get no more meals, remember—I only use this place to sleep in."

"Why not? There is nothing to keep me here. I don't want anything to do with your saloon."

"I can't help it. I hate the saloon, and it's too[Pg 131] far to come down here just to sleep; especially when I have to leave so early in the morning."

"You're a nice son, I must say," went on Sam Pepper. "This is what I git for raising you."

"I am not your son, Sam Pepper. As for what you've done for me, I'm willing to pay you for that. You let me leave without any fuss and I'll give you two dollars a week until the debt is paid."

"I never did care for you, and you know it. I don't like drinking people and the other kind that hang around here. I want to become respectable and make something of myself."

"Aint I respectable?" roared Pepper, raising his fist in anger. "Say that again, and I'll knock you down."

"I said that I didn't like the crowd that hangs around here. I'm going to get out, whether you take up my offer or not."

"Then clear out—and the sooner the better. It's a pity I didn't kick you out," growled Sam[Pg 132] Pepper, walking the floor savagely. "Go! go to-night!"

No more was said, and the boy tied up what little clothing he had in a newspaper. He was soon ready to depart, and then he faced Pepper again.

"You've missed it by turning against me," said Pepper, with a strange look in his eyes. "I might have made you rich."

"Never mind now. You can go your way, and I'll go mine. I don't want to shake hands. Go!" And he turned his back on the newsboy.

"One word more, before I leave," said our hero. "Will you tell me my right name?"

"I won't tell you anything. If Nelson Pepper aint good enough for you, you can make the name what you please."

It was so late he knew not where to look for a room that night, so trudged back to the stand. It was entirely inclosed with wooden shutters, and large enough inside for him to make himself fairly comfortable, and there he remained until daylight.

"I'm glad to hear you've left Pepper," said George Van Pelt, when he heard the news. "He's a bad fellow, and getting worse. If you want, you can get a room in the house next to where I live."

The place was but three blocks away from the stand, and Nelson made the necessary arrangements that afternoon, during the time when trade was dull.

Nelson wondered what Pepper had meant by saying he had missed it in turning against the man. Did Pepper refer to the past, or did he have in mind what he could leave when he died?

"I don't want a cent of his money," our hero told himself; "but I would like to solve the mystery of my birth and parentage."

CHAPTER XVII. A BOLD MOVE.

On the night following Nelson's leave-taking from Sam Pepper's establishment the keeper of the resort stood behind his bar, doing business as usual. The place now glistened with glasses and mirrors, but its so-called beauty was lost to view in the tobacco smoke which filled every nook and corner.

The lunch tables had given place to little round affairs where the patrons might drink and play cards, and several of the tables were filled by a noisy crowd.

Sam Pepper had just gotten rid of two tramps who wished drinks without paying for them, when he was surprised to see the door open slowly, and Homer Bulson showed himself.

"Please don't talk so loud," replied the young man, as he came in and walked to the rear end of the polished bar.

"I don't know about that. Don't you know that Gertrude Horton and Nelson the Newsboy are friends?"

"I met her on Broadway one day, and he came up and wouldn't give me a chance to talk to her. Do you know where she is now?"

"I will—when he comes. He doesn't live with me any longer, you must remember."

"Yesterday. He and a man have bought out a news stand, and he's going to live near by."

"If you hear anything of Gertrude, let me know at once. If you can help me, I'll pay you well."

"I'm your man and I'll remember," answered Sam Pepper, and thereupon Homer Bulson finished his liquor, threw down a quarter dollar, and started to leave.

"Generally at the Broxton Club," answered Bulson. "You know where that is, near Union Square." And as Pepper nodded, he opened the door and walked away.

After this, business continued brisk for half an hour, when Sam Pepper found it necessary to go to a back room for some bottles.

Hardly had he left the saloon when the door was opened, and much to the astonishment of the men at the round tables a young lady, plainly dressed, stepped in. It was Gertrude.

"I say, that's a fine girl," remarked one of the men, a rounder named Worden. "She's a new one around here, aint she?"

"Yes, here he comes now," answered Con Worden, and fell back to the table again, followed by his companion.

"You are Mr. Sam Pepper?" said Gertrude timidly. The general appearance of the place frightened her.

"Well—er—he aint here yet," answered Pepper, hardly knowing what to say. "But if you'll sit down he may come soon."

"I—I guess I had better remain outside," said Gertrude, looking around with much disgust. "You are quite sure he'll come soon? I wish to see him about Mrs. Kennedy. She has been taken dangerously ill, and I do not know what to do. Could you send him over to her place when he comes?"

"Better wait for him, Miss Horton. Come,[Pg 138] I'll show you into our sitting room. It's not a grand place, but it's clean and quiet. Come."

He pointed to one of the back rooms, now fixed up as a sitting room. She hesitated, but before she could resist he caught her by the arm.

"Nobody shall disturb you here," he half whispered. And before she knew it she was in the sitting room. The gas was turned down, but he turned it up. Then he went out, closing the door after him. "Nelson must come in soon," he said.

Gertrude sank down on a chair. Her mind was concerned entirely over the serious sickness which had suddenly overtaken good Mrs. Kennedy, and consequently she thought little of herself. But when she heard some shutters to the window of the sitting room slam from the outside she leaped to her feet.

"What can that mean?" she cried, and ran to the window. Trying the shutters, she found them fastened from the outside. At once she crossed over to the door, to find it locked.

"He has made me a prisoner!" she moaned. Then she knocked loudly on the door, but nobody came to answer her summons.

In the meantime Sam Pepper, having locked the door and fastened the window shutters, called Con Worden to him.

"You saw that gentleman who was here a while ago—him with the silk hat and gold-headed cane."

"Go over to the Broxton Club, near Union Square, and see if he is there. Call for Mr. Bulson. If you find him, tell him to come at once."

CHAPTER XVIII. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY.

The Broxton Club was a fashionable resort for young gentlemen who usually had more money than brains. It was located near the upper side of Union Square, and the club apartments consisted of a parlor, a dining and wine room, and a room for card-playing. In the latter apartment gambling went on at nearly all hours of the day and night.

Reaching the club Homer Bulson found several congenial companions, and presently sat down to a game of cards. Bets were made, first at a dollar, then at five, and then at ten and twenty. Bulson had no luck, and soon lost forty dollars.

"I'm on the wrong side to-night," was his dismal comment, and he went to the wine room to forget his losses in the flowing bowl.

"A man at the door to see you, sir," said the servant. "Says he has a private message for you."

Wondering who the messenger could be,[Pg 141] Homer Bulson hurried below and found Con Worden awaiting him.

"You want to see me?" he questioned sharply. He did not like the dilapidated appearance of the hanger-on.

Homer Bulson expected Worden to make off at once, but the hanger-on did not budge.

In a few minutes Homer Bulson followed the man, and it did not take him long to reach Sam Pepper's resort once more.

As he entered he found Pepper in the act of clearing out all the hangers-on, including Worden, who had just received the quarter promised to him.

"I will," returned Bulson eagerly. "Perhaps you've got her in your power already," he went on hastily.

"But I can't understand it, Pepper. How did you get her here, and so soon? You didn't have her when I was here before, did you?"

"Of course not. Right after you went away she came in, looking for Nelson, because the woman she lives with is very sick. I told her to wait in the sitting room, and then I locked the door and the window on her."

As if in reply to the young man's question there was a loud knock on the sitting-room door.

"She has knocked several times," said Pepper. "But I didn't mind that. I'm thankful she hasn't begun to kick and scream."

"I must have a talk with her. Now that she finds she is in our power, perhaps she'll come to terms."

"Watch the door, if you don't want her to get away," whispered Sam Pepper, and the young man winked one eye knowingly.

"I don't know, and I don't care. I don't see how you can interest yourself in that young ruffian."

"You are truly complimentary, Gertrude. But you do not know your own mind, nor what is best for you. This running away has upset your judgment."

"Always the same thing!" she cried, bursting into tears. "I will not listen. Let me go."

"I live among poor people, it is true, but they are not low, as you understand the word."

"Always that boy! You make me angry with your foolishness. Why don't you come back? I want to share Uncle Mark's fortune with you."

"I am making an honest living. Thousands can do no more. Now I demand that you let me go."

"I will stand aside—when we have come to terms," he answered, setting his teeth. "You shall not leave this house until you have promised to do as I and your uncle desire."

CHAPTER XIX. NELSON TO THE RESCUE.

On the same evening that Gertrude visited Sam Pepper's establishment, Nelson, after closing up, determined to run down and call upon the girl and tell her about the stand and how well they had done that day.

"She'll be pleased, I know," he told himself. "She wants me to make a man of myself."

Arriving at the tenement house, he ascended the stairs to Mrs. Kennedy's rooms and knocked upon the back door. To his surprise Gladys Summers, the flower girl, let him in.

"Oh, Nelson! I thought it was Gertrude," answered the flower girl. "Did you bring her along?"

"She went over to Sam Pepper's place to bring you here. Mrs. Kennedy is very sick, and we didn't know what to do."

"I haven't been to Sam's place. I left there[Pg 148] yesterday for good. What's the matter with the old lady?"

"Her rheumatism has got up around her heart, and she's very bad. I think she ought to have a doctor."

"No, she was going to get you to do that. She doesn't know anything of doctors down here, so she said."

"I'll have one here in a little while," said our hero, and ran down the stairs, two steps at a time.

Two blocks below the house there was a drug store, and a doctor had his office upstairs. The physician was in, and listened to what Nelson had to say.

The pair were soon at Mrs. Kennedy's bedside, and after an examination the doctor wrote out a prescription and Nelson had it filled at the drug store. The physician said he would call again the following afternoon.

"She's in a bad state," he said. "She has[Pg 149] likely had this rheumatism for years, and her age is against her."

"No, she shall stay home, if she wants to," said Nelson. "I guess I and the rest can take care of her. She was always good to me and the others."

After the medicine had been administered and Mrs. Kennedy was a trifle easier, Nelson began to grow impatient that Gertrude had not yet returned.

"I guess I'll go out and hunt her up," he said to Gladys Summers. "Will you stay here?"

Our hero was soon in the street again and making his way rapidly over to the East Side in the direction of Sam Pepper's resort. It was now late, but this part of the city was still bustling with life. Yet to our hero's surprise, when he reached Pepper's place he found it locked up.

He stood for a moment on the pavement, then went and rapped loudly on the glass of the door.

For a minute there was no response, then, as he rapped again, Sam Pepper appeared. His face fell when he lifted a door shade and saw our hero.

"What do you want now?" he growled, as he opened the door for a space of several inches.

"I didn't feel very well and thought I'd go to bed and sleep it off," answered Pepper smoothly. "I'm going back again. Good-night!"

"Haven't I told you so before? Now, don't disturb me again." And with this Sam Pepper slammed the door shut and locked it.

Nelson was nonplused, not so much by what Pepper had said as by the man's manner.

"He wanted to get rid of me in a hurry," he mused. "Somehow, this affair doesn't look right to me."

While our hero was standing near the curb, speculating upon where next to look for Gertrude,[Pg 151] he was surprised to see Paul Randall come down the street.

"Got stuck on some sporting extras and was bound to sell 'em," answered Paul. "Say, I hear you've bought out a stand."

"I won't forget you, Paul. We have a boy now who delivers papers for us. He talks of leaving. If he does, I'll let you know. But, I say, have you been around here long?"

"Yes. Gladys Summers calls her 'the angel,'" answered Paul readily. "She's a real lady, aint she, Nelson?"

"You did! I was going to ask you if you had seen her. You haven't made any mistake?"

"Yes; and I kept my eye on the door for almost an hour. I thought you might be with her."

"No; Sam Pepper and I have parted for good, Paul. I've got a room uptown, near the stand. I'd like to know what became of the young lady."

Paul knew that his mother, who was now getting better, would be anxious about him, so, without waiting longer, he hurried on. Nelson remained on the sidewalk, in deep thought.

Presently, as he was looking toward Sam Pepper's resort, he saw a corner of a curtain lifted and saw the man peer out at him. Then the curtain was dropped again.

"He's watching me," thought the newsboy. "Something is wrong here, and I know it. He and that Homer Bulson are friends, and Bulson is bound to make Miss Gertrude marry him. Perhaps they have hatched up some game against Miss Gertrude."

Not to make Sam Pepper more suspicious, Nelson walked briskly away, up the street. But at the first corner he turned, sped down the side[Pg 153] street, and then into the alleyway connecting with the rear of Pepper's resort.

It took him but a minute to ascertain that the shutters to the rear room were tightly closed, and held together by a wire bound from one catch to the other.

The shutters were solid, but near the tops were several round holes, put there for ventilating purposes.

Looking around our hero discovered an empty barrel, and standing on this he managed to look through one of the holes into the apartment.

He saw Gertrude sitting on a chair, the picture of misery. The hot tears were flowing down her cheeks.

The sight went straight to his heart, and without waiting to think of results, he leaped from the barrel, pulled away the wire, and flung the shutters open. Then he lifted the window, which had been pulled down, but not fastened.

Gertrude heard the noise and leaped up in fresh alarm. But when she saw our hero she gave a cry of joy.

"Certainly I'll help you, Miss Gertrude," he answered. "What are they doing—keeping you a prisoner here?"

"Something like that. Mr. Bulson was here[Pg 154] and went out to get a coach, so that he could take me away. Mr. Pepper is on guard in his saloon."

Gertrude came to the window, and Nelson helped her into the alleyway. Just as she leaped from the window Sam Pepper unlocked the door and opened it.

"Don't stop!" said Nelson, and caught Gertrude by the hand. Dark as it was, the boy knew the narrow and dirty thoroughfare well, and soon led his companion to the street beyond. Pepper came as far as the window, and called after them once more, but did not dare to follow further.

CHAPTER XX. THE HOME IN THE TENEMENT.

"Oh, how thankful I am that you came!" exclaimed Gertrude, when she felt safe once more.

"I'm glad myself," answered Nelson heartily. "But how was it Pepper made you a prisoner?"

"I went there to find you, because Mrs. Kennedy is so sick. I must get back to her at once."

"There is no need to hurry." And Nelson told of what he and Gladys had done for the patient.

Then Gertrude related her story and told how Homer Bulson had said she must marry him.

"He was going to take me to some place in New Jersey," Gertrude continued. "I heard him and Sam Pepper talk it over."

"The both of them are a big pair of rascals!" burst out Nelson. "Oh, I wish I was a man! I'd teach them a lesson!" And he shook his head determinedly.

"I am afraid Mr. Bulson will find out that I am living with Mrs. Kennedy, and he'll watch his chance to make more trouble for me," said the girl[Pg 156] despondently. "Oh, why can't he let me alone? He can have my uncle's money, and welcome."

"We'll all be on guard," answered Nelson. "If he tries to harm you, call a policeman. Perhaps that will scare him."

Gertrude returned to her home with Mrs. Kennedy, and satisfied that Homer Bulson would do nothing further that night, the newsboy started to walk uptown.

But presently he changed his mind and turned his footsteps toward the East Side. When he reached the vicinity of Sam Pepper's resort he saw a coach drawn up in front of the place.

"You're a fine rascal!" cried the boy boldly. "For two pins I'd have you locked up."

"Here he is now!" exclaimed Bulson. "Pepper, you ought to take him in hand for his impudence."

"Sam Pepper won't touch me, and you won't touch me, either," cried our hero, with flashing eyes. "You thought you were smart, Mr. Homer Bulson, but your game didn't work. And let me tell you something. If you trouble Miss Horton in the future, she and I are going to put the police on your track."

"What is that girl to you? If you'd only stand in with us, it would be money in your pocket."

"Mr. Bulson wants to do well by her. She don't know how to work. If she marries him, she'll have it easy for the rest of her life."

"But she don't want him, and that's the end of it. I've given you warning now. If anything happens to her I'll call in the police, and I'll tell all I know, and that's more than either of you dream of," concluded our hero, and walked off.

"I wonder how much he knows?" said Pepper, in alarm. "It was always a mystery to me how he and the girl fell in with each other."

"He can't know very much, for she doesn't know a great deal, Pepper. He's only talking to scare us," said Bulson. His uncle had not told him of the meeting in the library.

"Better wait till this affair blows over. Then Gertrude will be off her guard," concluded Homer Bulson.

After that several weeks slipped by without anything unusual happening. Gertrude kept on her guard when going out to give piano lessons, but neither Bulson nor Pepper showed himself.

Gertrude, Gladys, and Nelson all took turns in caring for Mrs. Kennedy, and the old lady speedily recovered from the severe attack of rheumatism she had experienced. She was anxious to get back to her fruit-and-candy stand.

"It's meself as can't afford to be idle at all," she declared. "Sure an' I must owe yez all a whole lot av money."

Business with the firm was steadily increasing. The boy who had carried the paper route had left, and Paul Randall was now filling the place and doing his best to bring in new trade.

"We'll soon be on our way to opening a regular store," said George Van Pelt, one day. "We really need the room already."

"Let us go slow," said Nelson. "I know a fellow who had a stand near the Fulton ferry. He swelled up and got a big store at fifty dollars[Pg 159] a month, and then he busted up in less than half a year. I want to be sure of what I am doing." And Van Pelt agreed with him that that was best.

Of course some newsboys were jealous of our hero's success, and among these were Billy Darnley and Len Snocks. Both came up to the stand while Nelson was in sole charge one afternoon, and began to chaff him.

"T'ink yer big, don't yer?" said Darnley. "I could have a stand like dis, if I wanted it."

"Perhaps you could, if you could steal the money to buy it," replied our hero suggestively.

"Dis aint no good spot fer business," put in Len Snocks. "Why didn't yer git furder downtown?"

"This is good enough for me," said our hero calmly. "If you don't like the stand, you don't have to patronize me."

"Yer don't catch me buyin' nuthin here," burst out Snocks. "We know better where to spend our money; don't we, Billy?"

"Perhaps you called to pay up that balance you owe me," said Nelson to Billy Darnley. "There is a dollar and ninety cents still coming my way."

"Ah, go on wid yer!" growled Billy Darnley, with a sour look. "I wouldn't have de stand, if yer give it to me. Come on, Len!" And he hauled his companion away.

Our hero felt that he could afford to laugh at the pair. "I guess it's a case of sour grapes," he said to himself. "They'd think they were millionaires if they owned a place like this."

Both Darnley and Snocks were out of money, and hungry, and they were prowling along the street, ready to pick up anything which came to hand.

"It's a shame Nelse's got dat stand," said Darnley. "He don't deserve it no more'n I do."

"No more dan me," added Snocks. "It beats all how some fellers strike it lucky, eh?"

"Say, dat would be just de t'ing," burst out the larger boy. "Nobody is around, and it would be easy to break open de lock. If only we had a push-cart, we could make a big haul."

So a plan was arranged to get the push-cart that night, after the news stand was locked up and Nelson and Van Pelt had gone away. Billy[Pg 161] Darnley had a bunch of keys in his pocket, and he felt fairly certain that one or another would fit the lock to the stand.

"Won't Nelse be surprised when he finds de t'ings gone?" said Snocks. "But it will serve him right, won't it?"

"To be sure," added Darnley. "He's gittin' too high-toned. He wants to come down out of de clouds."

CHAPTER XXI. NELSON MAKES A PRESENT.

In some manner of her own Mrs. Kennedy had found out that that day was Gertrude's birthday, and she had concocted a scheme with Nelson and Gladys to give her a surprise.

"Sure an' the poor dear deserves a bit av pleasure," said the old Irishwoman. "This humdrum life is almost a-killin' av her. We'll buy her a few things, and have a bit av a party supper."

"She shall have my best bouquet," said the flower girl. She loved Gertrude dearly.

Nelson was in a great state of perplexity concerning what to give Gertrude. One after another, different things were considered and rejected.

"You see, she's a regular lady," he said to George Van Pelt, "and I want to give her something that just suits. Now a common girl would like most anything, but she's—well, she's different; that's all."

"It won't do. Her dresses and her hat are better than I could buy. Besides, I want to give her something she can keep."

"I saw a new book advertised—a choice collection of poems. It's really something fine—far better than most collections. How would that suit?"

"Two dollars and a half, but we, as dealers, can get it for a dollar and seventy-five cents."

"Then that's what I'll get. And I'll write in it, 'To Miss Gertrude Horton, from her true friend Nelson,'" said the boy.

The book was duly purchased, and our hero spent the best part of half an hour in writing in it to his satisfaction. That night he closed up a little early and walked down to the Kennedy home with the volume under his arm.

"Oh, what a splendid book!" cried Gertrude, on receiving it. Then she read the inscription on the fly-leaf. "Nelson, you are more than kind, and I shall never forget you!" And she squeezed his hand warmly.

Gladys had brought her largest bouquet and also a nice potted plant, and Mrs. Kennedy had[Pg 164] presented a sensible present in the shape of a much-needed pair of rubbers.

"Winter will soon be here," said the old woman. "And then it's not our Miss Gertrude is going to git wet feet, at all!"

The girl was taken quite by surprise, and even more so when Mrs. Kennedy brought in a substantial supper, which had been cooking on the stove of a neighbor. To this Nelson added a quart of ice cream from a near-by confectioner's, and the birthday party was voted a great success by all who participated.

"You have all been so kind to me," said Gertrude, when they broke up, "you make me forget what I had to give up."

"Don't ye be after worryin', dear," said Mrs. Kennedy. "'Twill all come out right in the end."

"I trust so, Mrs. Kennedy. But I ask for nothing more than that I can earn my own living and keep the friends I have made," answered the girl.

"Sixteen is not bad," said our hero, who knew that that meant eight dollars a week for the teacher.

It was after midnight when the party broke up,[Pg 165] and Nelson had to take Gladys to her home, several blocks away. The flower girl lived with a bachelor brother, who supported himself and paid the rent. The rest Gladys had to supply herself.

"I wish I had a regular stand for flowers," she said to Nelson. "I could make a good deal more, then."

"I'll help you buy a stand some day, Gladys," he replied. "I know a good place up in your neighborhood."

That was Nelson, helping everybody he could, and that is why he is the hero of this tale of New York street life.

"If you'll help me I'll pay you back," said the flower girl earnestly. "You know flowers keep so much better when they are in a glass case," she explained.

A light rain was falling when the newsboy at last started for the house where he roomed. He buttoned his coat up around his throat and pulled his hat far down over his eyes.

He was almost to his room when, on turning a corner, he saw two big boys shoving a push-cart along, piled high with goods concealed under some potato sacking. As the boys passed in the glare of an electric light he recognized Billy Darnley and Len Snocks.

"Hullo, this is queer!" he murmured.[Pg 166] "Where are they going with that push-cart? I didn't know either of 'em was in the peddling business."

The pair soon passed out of sight, and Nelson continued on his way. Quarter of an hour later he was in bed and in the land of dreams.

It was George Van Pelt's turn to open up the stand on the following morning, our hero being entitled to sleep an hour longer than otherwise in consequence. But hardly had the time for opening arrived when George Van Pelt came rushing around to our hero's room in high excitement.

"Yes, everything—papers, books, pens, pencils, writing pads, ink, mucilage, everything. It's a clean sweep. Do you know anything about it?"

"No, I don't," answered Nelson, and now he was as wide awake as his partner. "When did it happen?"

"I don't know—some time before I got there. One of the padlocks was broken and the other unlocked. The rascals even took the money drawer," went on Van Pelt bitterly.

"That had fifteen cents in it," said Nelson.[Pg 167] "I took it in after I made up the cash for the day."

"Well, we're in a pickle now," groaned Van Pelt. "And just think, we were insured only day before yesterday."

"But not against burglars," groaned Nelson in return. "If we can't trace up the stuff, we'll have to lose it."

"But we can't afford to lose the stuff. It was worth sixty dollars if it was worth a penny."

"Nearer seventy dollars, for I bought some new pads and paper-bound books yesterday, and they cost seven dollars and a quarter. We must find the robbers." The newsboy hit his washstand with his fist. "By jinks, I've got it! I know who robbed us!"

"Len Snocks and Billy Darnley, those newsboys I told you about. I saw them eying the stand pretty closely, and last night, when I came home from the party, I saw them on the block below here with a push-cart full of goods. I thought it funny at the time. They had the stuff covered with old sacks. I never saw either of them with a push-cart before."

"Yes, I told the officer on the beat as I came[Pg 168] along. He's going to send in a report. But if you think those fellows are guilty we had better go after them without delay. Otherwise they'll sell the stuff and clear out."

He was soon into his clothing, and he and Van Pelt hurried to the stand, where they found Paul selling such papers as had come in for the morning trade.

"It's awful," said the small boy. "Such thieves ought to be placed behind the bars."

It was decided that Paul should run his route and then tend the stand, while Nelson and his partner went on a hunt down the Bowery and on the East Side for Darnley and Snocks.

"I can't say when we'll be back, Paul," said Van Pelt. "But until we return you must do the best you can." And this the little lad promised.

Our hero knew that Darnley and Snocks lived not far from each other on a street running toward the East River, and thither he led the way.

"Saw 'em go into the ferryhouse. They must have gone over," answered the newsboy.

A few words more followed, and Nelson and Van Pelt hurried to the ferry and soon found themselves on Fulton Street, one of the main thoroughfares of Brooklyn.

CHAPTER XXII. A DISAPPOINTMENT.

"How shall we strike out?" asked George Van Pelt, as he and our hero came to a halt under the elevated railroad.

"It's more than likely they'll try to sell those things to some stationer or at a second-hand store," answered Nelson. "And the chances are that they'll sell 'em as quick as possible."

"You are right there," answered his partner. "Supposing you take one side of the street and I'll take the other, and we'll ask at the different stores."

"It's no use," he thought, and then entered a sixth establishment, kept by an old man.

"Yes, I saw them," said the old man. "They were here early this morning, and wanted to sell me the things dog-cheap. But I was suspicious of them, so I didn't buy."

The old man described both Darnley and Snocks, and also some of the goods offered, so there could not possibly be any mistake.

"Thank you," said Nelson, and left him one of the business cards he and Van Pelt had had printed.

On the corner he beckoned to his partner and told Van Pelt of what he had learned.

"That is so," said George Van Pelt, as he and[Pg 172] our hero walked away. "Nelson, I am afraid we are stumped."

"I hardly know, George. I hate to give up. The stuff we lost cost too much money."

The matter was talked over for several minutes, and it was finally agreed that Nelson should visit the homes of the two boys while George Van Pelt returned to the news stand to relieve Paul.

Billy Darnley lived on the fourth floor of a large rear tenement on one of the dirtiest streets of the East Side. To get to the place our hero had to pass through an alleyway filled with rubbish and teeming with neglected children. Hardened as he was to the rougher side of city life he could not help but shudder at the sight.

At a corner of the alleyway he ran across a small girl and one several years older. The little girl was a cripple, and the larger girl was making fun of her deformity.

"Limpy leg! Limpy leg!" she cried shrilly. "Limpy leg, aint you ugly!" At this the cripple began to cry.

"Stop that!" called out Nelson. "You ought to be ashamed of yourself. This little girl can't help being a cripple. Perhaps some day you'll be a cripple yourself, and then you won't want anybody to make fun of you." And at this the big girl fell back abashed.

Nelson asked the girl where Billy Darnley lived, and the girl pointed out the rooms. Soon the newsboy was knocking on one of the doors to the apartment.

"Come in," said a rough voice, and Nelson entered, to find himself confronted by a burly man slightly the worse for the rum he had been drinking.

"I want to recover some things he stole from my news stand," answered our hero stoutly.

Nelson did as requested. Before he had finished Darnley senior gave a long yawn.

"Hang that boy!" he observed. "He's going from bad to worse. He will end up on the gallows if he aint careful."

To console himself he got out a black bottle and took a deep drink. Evidently he was not deeply impressed.

"No. He'll keep shady, I suppose. I can't help you. Go to the police. If he gets hung some day it will be his own fault."

The man turned his back on Nelson as if to[Pg 175] end the interview. In a minute more our hero was in the street again.

"A fine father for any boy to have," was his thought. "I reckon one is about as bad as the other, and perhaps both will end up in the electric chair."

CHAPTER XXIII. AN UNSUCCESSFUL QUEST.

From the tenement where Billy Darnley lived Nelson made his way to where Len Snocks resided.

This home in the tenements was in strong contrast to that of the Darnleys. There were but three rooms, but each was as clean and bright as hard work could make them.

A small, trim-looking woman carrying a baby in her arms answered his knock. This proved to be Mrs. Snocks. In the rooms were several other children of various ages.

"No, I haven't seen Len since last night," she said, in reply to our hero's question. "He went off with another boy named Billy Darnley."

"He did not. I am anxious about him, too. He never stayed away all night before. What do you want of him?"

"Too bad!" cried the woman, and, dropping on a kitchen chair, she covered her face with her apron.

"It's that Darnley boy," she said presently. "He is a bad egg and is leading our Len astray. My husband and I have warned Len time and time again to let Billy alone; but he won't mind, and Billy leads him into all kinds of mischief."

Mrs. Snocks went to a rear window and called to somebody in the courtyard below. Soon Mr.[Pg 178] Snocks appeared. He was an iron molder, but looked far from healthy.

"Stole from your stand," he said, after listening to his wife and Nelson. "This is the worst yet."

"He hasn't any business to go with Billy, Mary. That rascal will lead him to prison."

"I don't know what to do," went on Mr. Snocks, to Nelson. "I'd square this up, only I'm out of work, and haven't more than two or three dollars to my name."

"We have three dollars and twenty-five cents," said the wife. "You can have that." And she brought out a well-worn pocketbook.

"No, I won't take your last cent," he said. "You'll need it for yourself and the children. Only if you see Len, try to get back the goods or the money he got for them."

"We'll do that—don't fear," said Mr. Snocks. "And I'll thrash him everlastingly in the bargain."

No more could be accomplished at the Snockses' home, and soon Nelson was on his way back to the stand.

"Not much," he answered, and told his story. "We'll never hear from old Darnley," he added. "But perhaps we'll get something from the Snockses."

"I'm glad you didn't take that woman's last dollar," said Van Pelt. "We're not as hard up as all that, even if we have been almost cleaned out."

Fortunately for the partners they had paid all bills promptly since taking charge of the stand, so their credit was good. On the following morning Van Pelt went around and explained the situation to several wholesale dealers, and also to the news company, and succeeded in getting a fresh supply of goods on thirty and sixty days' time.

"Well, I'm in the business to hustle," answered Nelson, with a grim smile. "I never yet was idle, as far back as I can remember."

"Mostly. Once in a while I blacked boots and carried baggage, but not very often."

"He has and again he hasn't. He told me some things that I don't believe are true, George."

"I don't trust him at all, since the time he tried to help Mr. Bulson against Miss Gertrude."

"It's queer that Bulson is so possessed to marry Miss Horton, when she doesn't care for him."

"I guess the reason is that Bulson is afraid Mr. Horton will relent and take Miss Gertrude back, and then she'll come in for half the money, after all. He is so piggish that he wants to get it all."

"Miss Gertrude says he is a strange man and won't believe what anybody says about his nephew."

"He must be strange, or he wouldn't turn such a nice young lady as Miss Horton out of doors," said Van Pelt feelingly. He had met Gertrude several times and was much interested in her.

On the week following Mrs. Kennedy was served with a notice to quit her apartments, as the tenement was to be torn down. She and Gertrude hunted up other rooms, not far from Nelson's stand. These were bright and cheerful and a very great improvement over those vacated.

"And I will feel safer," said Gertrude. "For I fancy Homer Bulson knew the other home and often watched me going in and coming out."

Gertrude was right in her surmise. Homer Bulson was watching her very closely and laying his plans to make her his own, in spite of herself.

But when everything was in readiness to make a move, he found to his chagrin that the rooms were empty and the building was being torn down.

"Hang the luck, anyhow!" he muttered sulkily. "Now where in the world shall I look for her?"

He questioned several people in the neighborhood, but nobody seemed to be able to give him any information.

The truth of the matter was Mrs. Kennedy had requested her friends to say nothing to a gentleman in a silk hat who asked about [Pg 182]Gertrude, and for this reason they were accordingly mum.

"Never mind, I'll find her sooner or later," Bulson told himself. "And then my next move will surely surprise her."

CHAPTER XXIV. A DECOY LETTER.

One day Nelson was folding some evening papers at the stand when, on glancing up, he saw Homer Bulson standing not far away eyeing him sharply.

Bulson waited until several customers had received papers and departed, and then came closer.

"I presume you do better with the stand than you did selling papers on the street."

To this Nelson made no reply, for he felt certain that Homer Bulson was playing the part of a hypocrite.

"If she wouldn't be so headstrong she might have a comfortable home without working."

"She intends to do as she pleases," replied Nelson sharply. "And she doesn't ask you for advice."

"You're right there," grinned Nelson. "We won't let you. The best you can do is to leave her alone. If you don't somebody will get hurt."

Everything seemed to be against the young man, but two days later his luck—if such it can be called—changed.

He was walking along a fashionable side street, when on chancing to look ahead he saw Gertrude leave a house and hurry to the corner.

He started to follow her, but before he could reach her she had boarded a street car and was out of his reach.

"Good-afternoon," he said politely. "Am I right about seeing Miss Horton just coming from here?"

"Oh, so she gives music lessons here. Does she teach anybody else in the neighborhood?"

"Yes; she teaches on the block above here and around on the avenue." And the girl gave the names and addresses.

Homer Bulson made a note of the names and addresses and walked off in high satisfaction.

Two days later he left New York and took a train at Jersey City for Lakewood, down in New Jersey.

At the fashionable resort he managed to find a house on the outskirts of the town. It was owned and kept by an old woman, who was more than half deaf.

To this old woman, whose name was Sarah Higgins, Bulson told a long story of a cousin who was a little crazy and who wanted absolute rest.

"She is harmless, excepting for her tongue," said Bulson. "I would like to bring her here for several months. If you will take her, I will give you twenty-five dollars a week for your trouble."

Sarah Higgins was a natural-born miser, and she readily consented to take the young lady and watch her.

"I've taken care of them as is out of their mind before," she said. "I know how to treat 'em."

Homer Bulson's next move was to write a long letter to Gertrude. This letter was signed with the name of a fashionable lady of society, and ran as follows:

The letter came as a complete surprise to Gertrude, and she scarcely knew what to make of it.

Of course, as was natural, she felt much pleased. A trip to Lakewood each week would be delightful, and five dollars would add quite something to her income.

The letter reached her on Tuesday morning, so she had not long to consider it. That noon she met Gladys and told her she was going to Lakewood on business the following morning, on the early train.

"I shall only be gone for the day. There is a lady there who wants me to give lessons to her three children."

"Lakewood is a famous winter resort now. The hotels are fine, so I've been told."

CHAPTER XXV. MARK HORTON RELENTS.

After having mailed the letter to Gertrude from Lakewood, Homer Bulson returned to New York to complete his plans for the future.

Evening found him at his uncle's mansion, as smiling as ever, with nothing to betray the wicked thoughts which were in his mind.

Mr. Mark Horton had changed greatly. He was very feeble, his face was pinched, and his hair was fast growing white.

He had had two doctors waiting upon him, but neither of them had been able to make him well.

His malady baffled all their science, and despite their most carefully administered medicines he grew steadily worse.

"I cannot understand the case," said one physician to the other. "I was never so bothered in my life."

"It is certainly strange," answered the other. "I shall make a report on the case before the[Pg 191] fraternity. Ordinarily this man should grow better quickly. He has no organic trouble whatever."

As Mark Horton grew more feeble he longed for Gertrude, remembering how she had ministered to him day and night.

"How goes it, uncle?" asked Homer Bulson, as he entered the room in which Mark Horton sat in an easy-chair.

"I am very weak, Homer. I don't think I shall ever be better. It is not because I fear death, for I have little to live for. But Gertrude——" He did not finish.

"You? You were too indulgent, that was the trouble. She used to have her way in everything."

"I believe not. That actor got a position[Pg 192] with some traveling company, and I think she went with the company, too."

"It is too bad! I do not wish her to throw her whole life away in this fashion. I wish she were here. Won't you write to her?"

"Then she must be in want," groaned Mark Horton. "If you cannot write to her, you can at least advertise for her in the Boston papers."

"I do, Homer. Tell her to return—that all will be forgiven. I am fairly dying to see the child again."

At this latter remark Homer Bulson drew down the corners of his mouth. But the dim light in the room hid his features from his uncle's gaze.

"The new nurse," said Mark Horton wearily[Pg 193]. "They simply bother me. Not one of them does as well as did Gertrude."

Presently a middle-aged woman came in, dressed in the outfit of a trained nurse. She bowed to both men.

"You are the nurse Dr. Barcomb said he would send?" said Homer Bulson, as he eyed her sharply.

"As the doctor sent you, I suppose it is all right. You have had sufficient experience?"

"You had better give my uncle a little wine," put in Bulson. "He needs it as a tonic."

"I do not care much for the wine," said Mark Horton. "It does not seem to strengthen as it should."

"Thank you, uncle, but I bought this especially for your own use, and you must have it all."

A private conversation, lasting the best part of an hour, followed, and then Bulson took his leave.

When Bulson was gone Mrs. Conroy came in again, having been to the room assigned to her by the housekeeper. She found the retired merchant sitting with his chin in his hands, gazing moodily into the small grate fire which was burning before him.

"Is there anything I can do for your comfort, Mr. Horton?" she questioned sympathetically.

"Have you any medicine to put you to sleep, sir? I must ask the doctor all particulars to-morrow."

"He has given me some powders, but they do not help me. At times my brain seems to be on fire while my heart is icy cold."

"Let me shake your pillows for you." She did so, and tried to make him otherwise comfortable.

"Thank you, that is better," he remarked, as he sank back and closed his eyes. "It is hard to be alone in the world."

"Almost. Mr. Bulson, who was just here, is my nephew. My wife is dead, my son gone, and my niece, who lived with me up to a few months ago, has left me."

"In one way it is my own fault. I drove my niece from my house by my harshness. I sincerely wish she was back."

"I do not know where to send. Mr. Bulson heard she went to Boston, and he is going to advertise for her in some Boston papers. Poor Gertrude!"

"Yes, Gertrude Horton. She was my brother's child. I wanted her to marry my nephew, and we had a bitter quarrel, and after that there was a robbery, and—but I am satisfied now that Gertrude was innocent."

"Why, it seems to me I've heard something of this before!" exclaimed the nurse. "The story came to me through a friend who knows an old woman who keeps a fruit-and-candy stand on the Bowery. She said the girl was driven away from home because her uncle wanted her to marry a man she didn't want, and because the uncle thought she had robbed his safe—she and a boy who happened to call at the house about that time."

"It must be my Gertrude!" said Mark Horton. "And did she marry that actor fellow?"

"He wasn't an actor. He's a newsdealer—keeps a stand with a man, somewhere uptown; and he's not old enough to marry."

"Then you must do so—to-morrow morning," returned Mark Horton. "Gertrude may still be in New York! Pray Heaven she will come back to me!"

CHAPTER XXVI. NELSON ON SHIPBOARD.

Nelson was tending the stand on the morning following the conversation just recorded, when suddenly Paul Randall came running up, all out of breath.

"Right straight across town, on the East River. He was talking to the captain of a big schooner named the Victory. I guess he was wanting to ship in her."

"Tend the stand, Paul, and I'll go after him," said Nelson, and leaped outside. Soon he was making his way toward the East River with all possible speed.

When he came in sight of the docks half a dozen vessels met his view, all with their bows stuck far over into the street. Of a sailor standing near he asked which was the Victory.

"There she is," answered the tar, pointing with his sunburnt hand. "Want to ship?"

Nelson was soon picking his way across the dock where the big schooner lay. Merchandise was on every hand, and on turning a pile of this he suddenly found himself face to face with Billy Darnley and a burly man dressed in a sea suit.

"So I've got you at last, have I?" cried Nelson, as he grasped Darnley by the arm.

"It aint so. I never stole nuthin' in my life," retorted Darnley sulkily. "He's down on me, and he's always tryin' to git me into trouble."

For a moment the face of the seafaring man was a study. His name was Grabon, and he was part owner and captain of the Victory.

"Darnley has signed articles with me, for a trip to the West Indies and Brazil," he said.

"Well, he can't go to the West Indies and Brazil. He's going to the lock-up," returned Nelson firmly.

"Of two robberies, so far as I know. He once robbed me of some money, and only a short while ago he robbed a news stand belonging to me and another party."

"Humph! What did he rob you of—half a dozen newspapers?" sneered Captain Grabon. "If he did, you shan't keep him ashore on that account. I am short of hands as it is, and must sail by the tide to-day."

"The trouble was all over ten newspapers," said Billy Darnley, quick to take up an idea that had come to him. "He says I stole 'em, but I didn't."

"I won't listen to such nonsense." Captain Grabon shoved Nelson back. "Let my man go."

"You will!" put in Billy Darnley, and[Pg 201] wrenching himself free, he ran along the dock toward the Victory and clambered aboard the vessel.

"You're going to get yourself into a whole lot of trouble!" ejaculated Nelson to the captain.

As quickly as he could, our hero ran toward the ship and clambered aboard after Darnley. For the moment he had lost sight of the bully, but now he saw him peering out from behind the mainmast. At once a chase ensued.

In the meantime Captain Grabon came on board, and going quickly to his mate, he ordered the lines flung off and the boat towed out into the stream.

Around and around the deck flew Darnley, with Nelson after him. Then the bully leaped down the companion-way steps and into the cabin. Undaunted, our hero followed, and presently the pair found themselves at the end of a narrow passageway.

"I won't go!" howled Billy Darnley desperately. "I'm booked for this trip to sea."

"Well, a sea trip might do you some good, Billy, but you are not going to take it just yet What did you do with the stuff you stole from the stand?"

"Yes, you did—you and Len Snocks. Van Pelt and I know all about it. You got to give up the goods, do you hear?"

He tried to break away again, and a hand-to-hand tussle ensued. Presently both boys went down and rolled over. As they did this Nelson's head struck an iron projection, and he was partly stunned. Before he could recover the bully was on his feet once more.

"Take that!" roared Darnley, and gave Nelson a cruel kick in the side. A kick in the head followed, and with a groan our hero was stretched out insensible.

By this time Captain Grabon was coming below to see what was going on. He met Darnley in the cabin.

"What!" roared the captain. "Why, you monkey, don't you know you are now under my orders?"

Still holding fast to Darnley, he forced his way to the narrow passage, and here saw Nelson still lying motionless. He gave a low whistle.

Alarmed, Darnley did as requested, and our hero was placed on a lounge. There was a big lump on Nelson's forehead, and this the captain made Darnley bathe with some water from an ice-cooler in the corner.

It was nearly an hour before our hero came to his senses, for the kicks from the bully had[Pg 204] been severe. He sat up, completely bewildered.

"Where am I?" was the first question he asked himself. Then he stared around him, to behold a negro sitting near, reading a newspaper.

"The fo'castle of the Victory?" repeated Nelson, puzzled. "Where—who placed me here? And who put this rag on my head?"

"Cap'n Grabon had you carried here. You had a row wid one of de new hands. Don't you remember dat?"

"Certainly I remember it," answered Nelson, and sat up. His head ached severely. "Who are you?"

So speaking, Nelson staggered to his feet and[Pg 205] made for the doorway of the forecastle. When he got on deck he stared around him in amazement. The dock had been left behind, and around the ship were the blue waters of New York Bay.

CHAPTER XXVII. DOWN THE NEW JERSEY COAST.

The words came with a groan from Nelson. They were no longer at the dock in New York, but on the sea. What was to be done next?

"Hullo! so you've got around again," sang out Captain Grabon, on catching sight of him.

"You carried yourself off. I told you we were about to sail. You had no business to come on board."

"Where is Darnley?" went on our hero, and[Pg 207] began to look around. Soon he espied the bully helping some sailors trim one of the sheets.

"Here, you stay where you are," cried Captain Grabon, as Nelson started forward, and he caught our hero by the arm. "We are on the sea now, and I am master here, and I don't propose to allow you to interfere with any of my men."

"Well, I'm not going to stop my vessel for every monkey like you who gets himself in a pickle. You can go ashore—when we make a landing, not before."

The captain of the Victory turned away, leaving Nelson much nonplused. To tell the truth, our hero's head ached so hard he could think of little else. He walked over to a pile of rope and sat down.

"I hope they land soon," he thought dismally. "I don't want to get too far from home. I wonder what George Van Pelt thinks of my absence?"

An hour slipped by, and soon the Victory was[Pg 208] well on her way down the bay and heading outside of Sandy Hook. The air was cool and bracing, and under any other conditions the newsboy would have enjoyed the sail very much.

But by noon he began to grow alarmed again. Instead of putting in, the ship was standing still further from shore.

"See here, this doesn't look as if you were going to land soon," he said to one of the sailors who happened to pass him.

The captain had gone to the cabin, and thither Nelson made his way without ceremony.

"No, I didn't tell you anything of the kind," answered Captain Grabon, with a leer. "I told you to keep your eyes open, and[Pg 209] you'd soon find out what we were going to do."

"As I said before, you carried yourself off. You came aboard my vessel without my permission, and you engaged in a row with one of my hands. Now you must suffer the consequences."

"I will, lad; but you must work your passage, as soon as you're over being knocked out."

"You can do nothing. You are on my ship, and I am master here. If you have any row to settle with Darnley, you can settle it when we land. I've told him, and now I tell you again, I won't have any more quarreling on board."

"I know what I'm doing. Now get back to the fo'castle with you, and remember, to-morrow you take your place with the crew." And so speaking, Captain Grabon waved the lad away.

Nelson returned to the deck with a heavy heart. Had the shore been within a reasonable distance he would have leaped overboard and risked swimming, but land was far away, a mere speck on the western horizon.

At noon Nelson messed with the crew, and feeling hungry he ate his full share of the food, which was not as bad as might be supposed. He was not allowed to go near Darnley, and the bully was wise enough to keep his distance.

Slowly the afternoon wore along. The breeze remained good, and having passed Sandy Hook, the Victory stood straight down the New Jersey coast.

"Might as well learn the ropes, sooner or later," said one of the sailors to Nelson, as he lounged up.

"I don't want to learn," was the ready answer. "I wasn't cut out for a sailor. City life is good enough for me."

"And I can't stand shore life at all. Queer, aint it? The minit I'm ashore I'm in trouble and wanting to go to sea again."

"Hard to please, lad. You'll have your hands full with him. Better learn your duty at once, and save trouble."

"He did. I wanted to hand him over to the police when we were on the dock, but Captain Grabon interfered. I suppose he didn't want to lose the hand."

"That's the truth—we are short, as it is. Well, now you are on board, what do you intend to do?"

"I don't know." Nelson looked the sailor straight in the eyes. "Can I trust you?"

"If you'll help me to escape I'll give you all the money I have in my pockets—two dollars and a half."

"Then, if you get the chance, steer close to some other boat, will you? I mean some small craft that belongs along this shore."

"I'll jump overboard and trust to luck to have the other boat pick me up," explained Nelson.

The two talked the plan over, and at last the sailor agreed for the two dollars to do as our hero desired—providing the opportunity arose. He insisted upon Nelson keeping the remaining fifty cents.

"I won't clean you out, lad," he said. "And I sincerely trust all goes well with you." And they shook hands.

The sailor took his next trick at the wheel at six o'clock, and half an hour later a sloop hove in sight, far to the southwestward. He nodded to Nelson, but said nothing. Most of[Pg 213] the sailors were below, and Captain Grabon had also disappeared.

"Go on to supper," said the mate of the vessel to our hero, and turned away to inspect something forward.

"Get your grub, lad," replied the sailor. "When we're close to that craft I'll begin to whistle 'Annie Laurie.'"

He was soon at the mess, and eating as though nothing out of the ordinary was on his mind. But his ears were on the alert, and no sooner had the first bars of the sailor's whistle risen on the evening air than he pushed back his seat.

"Getting seasick, I reckon," said an old tar, and laughed. Billy Darnley was already sick, and lay on a bunk, as white as a sheet and groaning dismally.

Soon Nelson had picked his way to the stern, being careful to keep out of sight of the mate. The Victory was now close to the sloop, and presently glided by the smaller craft.

"Thanks! Good-by!" called Nelson, to the man at the wheel, and in another moment he had dropped into the ocean and was swimming toward the sloop with all the strength at his command.

CHAPTER XXVIII. GERTRUDE HAS AN ADVENTURE.

It was with a light heart that Gertrude hurried to the ferry, crossed to the New Jersey side, and took the express train for Lakewood. She did not dream of the trick that had been practiced upon her, and anticipated only a good engagement and a delightful ride on the cars.

For a long while she sat by the window, drinking in the swiftly moving panorama as the train flew by station after station, and farms, and woods. But few stops were made, and she had the entire seat to herself. She would have been very much surprised had she known that Homer Bulson was watching her, yet such was the case.

The man had seen her get on board, and now occupied a seat in the smoker. His face wore a smile of triumph, for he felt that the girl was already in his power.

It was just noon when the train pulled into the elegant little station at Lakewood, and[Pg 216] Gertrude alighted. Hotel stages were everywhere, and so were cabs and cabmen.

At last she found a newsboy who directed her where to go. She thought he looked at her rather queerly when he found out where the place was, but he said nothing, and she asked no further questions. Soon she was hurrying down the country road leading toward Sarah Higgins' place.

As she moved along she had to confess to herself that the surroundings were hardly what she had anticipated. The road was little more than a bypath, and was by no means well kept.

"Perhaps this is a short cut to something better," she thought. "That newsboy didn't want me to walk any further than necessary. But I must say I see no mansions anywhere around—only the plainest kind of farmhouses."

At last she reached the spot the boy had mentioned. In a clump of pines was a dilapidated cottage, half stone and half wood, with a dooryard in front choked with weeds.

"There surely is some mistake," said the girl to herself. "This can't be the house. I'll go in and find out where Mrs. Broaderick's home really is."

She passed through the open gateway and made her way up the rough garden path. The[Pg 217] door was closed to the cottage, and so were all the windows. She knocked loudly.

There was a wait of a minute, and she knocked again. At length the door was opened cautiously and Sarah Higgins, dressed in a dirty wrapper and with her hair flying in all directions, showed herself.

"Excuse me, but can you tell me where Mrs. Broaderick's house is?" asked Gertrude politely.

"What's that?" asked Sarah Higgins, in a high-pitched voice, and placed one hand behind her ear.

"I wish to find Mrs. Broaderick's house. Will you tell me where it is?" went on the girl, in a louder key.

"Don't know Mrs. Broaderick," replied Sarah Higgins. Then she gave Gertrude a searching look. "Come in and rest, won't you? You look tired out."

"Thank you; I'll rest a moment," answered Gertrude. She was somewhat dismayed by the turn affairs had taken. "And do you know most of the folks around here?" she continued.

"Of course I do, miss," she answered.[Pg 218] "Haven't I lived here going on forty-five years—since I was a little girl?"

"I've been expecting you, my dear. It's all right, make yourself at home," went on Sarah Higgins soothingly. "Let me take your hat, that's a good young lady." And she started to take Gertrude's hat from her head.

She had been told that the girl would arrive that noon and would most likely inquire for an imaginary person named Broaderick. Homer Bulson had certainly laid his plans well.

"Don't! leave my hat be!" cried Gertrude, and shrank back in alarm. "You seem to know my first name, madam, but I do not know you."

"But I do not wish to remain here. I want to find the lady I have come to Lakewood to see," insisted poor Gertrude. Then she started for the door—to find herself confronted by Homer Bulson.

"You didn't expect to see me, did you?" he asked sarcastically, as he came in and shut the door.

"Well, if you must know, I was curious to learn where you were going, Gertrude," he said in a low voice, that Sarah Higgins might not understand. "I followed you from the ferry in New York."

"But what are you doing here?" he went on, bound to "mix up" matters both for her and for Sarah Higgins, so that the latter might think Gertrude quite out of her mind.

At this she let out a scream, but he only smiled, while Sarah Higgins looked on curiously.

"Screaming will do you no good, Gertrude. This house is quarter of a mile from any other, and the road is but little used."

"You shall never leave until you listen to me," he said. And then he tried his best to reason with her for fully an hour, but she would not hearken. At last she grew as pale as a sheet.

"This whole thing is a trick—the letter and all!" she gasped, and fell in a swoon. He caught her and carried her to an upper chamber of the cottage. Here he placed her on a couch, and then went below again, locking the door after him.

"It's a way she has at times," he explained to Sarah Higgins. "She is not always so bad.[Pg 221] She will be quite herself in a few days, and then she will remember nothing of this."

"Thank you, sir. She shall have the best of care—and she won't get away, never fear."

"I was going to remain over in Lakewood to-night, but I find I must return to New York," went on Bulson. "I'll be back again some time to-morrow or the day after. In the meantime do not let her get out of the room."

"I will do as you say, sir," answered Sarah Higgins, and then Gertrude's cousin took his departure.

It did not take the girl long to come out of her swoon, and she at once ran to the door. Finding it locked she went to the window, determined to leap to the ground, if she could do nothing better. But, alas! Homer Bulson had made his calculations only too well. The window was slatted over on the outside, making the apartment virtually a prison cell.

She saw that the slats had been put on recently, and this made her more sure than ever that the whole thing was a plot. The letter had been a decoy, and had been used solely to get her in his power.

"What does he expect to do?" she asked herself. "I have given him every claim on Uncle Mark's fortune; what more can he wish? Is he afraid I may go back? Perhaps he wants to take my life, so as to be certain I will not cross his path again." And she shivered.

Listening, she heard Homer Bulson bid Sarah Higgins good-by and leave the cottage. At this she breathed a sigh of relief. She knocked steadily on the door, and presently the woman came up.

"Now, don't grow excited," pleaded Sarah[Pg 223] Higgins. "Yes, you'll have to stay here until to-morrow, and perhaps some time longer. Now you had better lie down and rest yourself."

CHAPTER XXIX. A SURPRISE ON THE ROAD.

When Nelson struck the water he was all of fifty feet away from the sloop. Down he went over his head, but quickly reappeared and struck out boldly.

"Hullo, somebody's overboard from the ship!" cried a young man, who sat at the bow of the sloop. "Port your helm, Bob, or you'll run into him!"

The helm was thrown over, and the sloop veered around. Then Nelson set up a shout.

"We'll pick you up, don't fear!" cried the young fellow at the bow, and the sloop came around and the mainsail was lowered. The two young men on the craft were skillful sailors, and soon came within reach of Nelson. One held out a boathook, and presently our hero was hauled on board.

"It's a lucky thing we were near by, or you[Pg 225] might have been drowned," said the young man called Bob. "Isn't that so, Clarence?"

"That's true," answered Clarence Bell. "I see your ship isn't stopping for you."

"She isn't my ship, and I don't want her to stop," answered Nelson, shaking the water from him.

"I did, and I am thankful you picked me up. The captain who runs that boat was going to carry me to the West Indies against my will."

"Hardly that," replied Nelson. "I'll tell you the whole story, if you'd like to hear it. Only I want to be sure that that boat doesn't put back after me," he continued.

He watched the Victory for fully five minutes but nothing was done toward turning back, and at last he gave a great sigh of relief.

"You are, lad. But you had better take off those wet clothes, or you'll take cold. You'll find a dry suit in the cuddy."

This was sensible advice, and Nelson followed it. As soon as he had donned the other suit he[Pg 226] sat down and told how he had chased Billy Darnley on board the Victory, and of what had followed.

"He ought to be arrested," put in Bob Chalmer. "You were lucky to get away. I guess that thief is out of your reach now."

"Well, anyway, I left him as sick as he could be," said Nelson, and could not help but laugh over Darnley's woe-begone appearance. "He'll have enough of the sea by the time he gets back."

From the young men he learned that they had been out for two days on a fishing trip. They had had good luck, as the mess on board proved, and they were now sailing for Manasquan Inlet, where they were boarding for a few weeks.

"We belong in New York," said Bob Chalmer later. "And I guess we can see you through all right."

"I'll be much obliged, if you would," said Nelson. "I'll pay you back as soon as I reach the city." And then he told of the news stand, and the business he and Van Pelt were doing.

The breeze was as brisk as ever, and it veered around, so that the sloop made the Inlet [Pg 227]without difficulty. They ran up the river to a small collection of cottages and boathouses known as Reefer's. Here they tied up, and Nelson went ashore, wearing the old fishing suit he had borrowed.

"You can't get home to-night, so you shall stay with us," said Bob Chalmer, and procured a room at one of the cottages for Nelson. Tired out, our hero slept well. But he arose early, and by that time his own clothes were dry, and he put them on.

"I've got a railroad ticket in my pocket good from Lakewood to New York," said Chalmer, while they were having breakfast. "It's a limited ticket and runs out to-morrow. Why can't you use that? You can have it at half price."

The matter was talked over, and our hero took the ticket. Quarter of an hour later he was on the stage, bound for Lakewood.

It was a clear day, and the ride among the smooth roads was thoroughly enjoyable. Yet[Pg 228] Nelson thought but little of the journey. His mind was filled with his personal affairs. He wondered what Van Pelt thought of his continued disappearance.

"He'll think I've captured Darnley sure," he reasoned. "Well, what's happened can't be helped, and I'm lucky to escape, I suppose."

When about two miles from Lakewood they reached a bend, where the road was being repaired.

A steam roller was at work, and at this one of the horses grew frightened and started to run away. His mate went with him, and in a twinkle the stage was bumping along at a high rate of speed.

"Stop! stop!" shrieked a lady sitting near Nelson. "Stop, or we'll all be killed!"

"Whoa! whoa!" roared the stage-driver, and tried to pull the horses in. But his lines were old, and suddenly one snapped, and then the horses went along faster than ever.

Not far down the road were several heaps of stone, to be used in repairing the highway, and the team headed directly for the first of these heaps. The driver tried to sheer them around, but with one line gone was nearly helpless, and[Pg 229] in a second more the stage struck the pile and went over with a crash. Then the horses came to a halt.

No one was seriously injured by the mishap, although the lady who had cried out was much shaken up. Soon all gathered around, to learn the extent of the damage to the stage.

It was found that one of the front wheels was knocked to pieces. The driver was much downcast, and knew not what to do.

"I'll have to leave the turnout here and go back to Berry's shop for a new wheel, I suppose," he said. He could not state how soon he would return, or how soon the stage would be ready to start forward once more.

"The shortest road is that over yonder," answered the stage-driver. "It aint no good for driving, but it's plenty good enough for hoofing it."

"Thanks," said Nelson, and without waiting he started off to walk the remainder of the journey.

He had still an hour and a half before the[Pg 230] train would be due at Lakewood, so he took his time and often stopped to look at the dense woods and the beautiful green fields.

"What a difference between this and New York streets!" he said to himself. "And how quiet it is! I don't believe I could sleep here at night, it would be so still!"

At length he came within sight of an old cottage, where a woman was hanging up a small wash on a line. Feeling thirsty, he resolved to go into the yard and ask her for a drink of water.

But no sooner had he set foot in the weedy garden than the woman came running toward him, waving him away.

"I haven't anything to sell," answered Nelson, with a smile. "I was going to ask for a drink of water."

"Very well," returned Nelson, and started to leave the garden. As he did so he heard a sudden crash of glass and, looking up, saw some[Pg 231] panes from a window in an upper room of the cottage fall to the ground.

"My gracious!" burst out our hero, in bewilderment. "Gertrude! What does this mean?"

"Go away from here!" shrieked Sarah Higgins, in alarm. "Go away! That girl is crazy!"

"I guess you are crazy!" returned Nelson hotly. "Stand aside and let me get into the house."

Then of a sudden she leaped back and ran for the cottage with might and main. Reaching it,[Pg 232] she closed the door and locked it. Then she appeared at a near-by window, armed with a rolling-pin.

"Don't you dast come in!" she shrieked. "If you do, you'll have to take the consequences!" And she flourished the rolling-pin defiantly.

CHAPTER XXX. COMPARING NOTES.

It must be confessed that for the moment Nelson was completely nonplused. He wished to get into the cottage, and at once, but the woman looked as if she meant what she said, and he had no desire to have his skull cracked open by the rolling-pin.

"See here, madam; you are making a great mistake," he said as calmly as he could.

"I say you are making a great mistake," bawled Nelson. "That lady is not crazy."

"I know that man, yes. He is no gentleman. He robbed that lady of her property."

"I know—and that's enough. If you don't[Pg 234] let me in at once, I'll have the law on you, and you'll go to prison for ten or twenty years," went on Nelson, bound to put his argument as strongly as possible.

At this Sarah Higgins grew pale, and the hand with the rolling-pin dropped at her side.

"No; I know exactly what I am talking about. That young lady is not crazy, and neither you nor Bulson have any right to keep her a prisoner."

"He said she was crazy; that she needed rest and quiet. That's why he brought her here."

"He is a villain, and if you know when you are well off, you'll have nothing to do with him. Now let me in, before I hammer down the door and turn you over to the police."

"Oh, my! don't hammer down the door, and don't call the police!" shrieked Sarah Higgins. "I meant to do no wrong, I can assure you."

"Not if you behave yourself. If Bulson deceived you, that's in your favor. But you had better not help him further."

With trembling hand Sarah Higgins unbolted the door and opened it. At once Nelson[Pg 235] marched in, and, espying the stairs, mounted to the upper floor of the cottage.

"Where's the key to this door?" demanded our hero of the woman, who had followed him.

"There." And she pointed to a near-by nail. Soon he had the door unlocked, and at once Gertrude rushed out to meet him. The tears of joy stood in her eyes.

"Why, the way from the railroad station at Lakewood. Did they know I came here?"

"I haven't been to Lakewood," answered Nelson. "I came here by pure accident." And then in a few words he told his story.

When he had finished Gertrude told of the decoy letter and of what had followed. Our hero was deeply interested and very angry that Homer Bulson had played such a trick.

"He ought to be put behind the bars for it," he said. "Certainly I am going to tell the police about it. He hasn't any right to follow you up in this fashion, even if he is your cousin."

"He is growing more bold every day," [Pg 236]answered Gertrude. "I shall never feel safe so long as he is near me."

Sarah Higgins now calmed down, and tried to clear herself by saying she had been imposed upon. She readily consented to tell all she knew, if called upon to do so in a court of law, providing she herself was not prosecuted.

"That gives us one witness against your cousin," said Nelson. "If we can get another, we'll put him behind the bars."

"I don't want him locked up, if only he will leave me alone," returned Gertrude.

Nelson's visit to the cottage had taken time, and when Gertrude was ready to leave it was found to be too late to take the train our hero had started to catch.

"Never mind, we can take the afternoon train," said the boy. "But we will have to get dinner somewhere." He turned to Sarah Higgins. "I think you ought to furnish that."

"I don't wish to stay here," cried Gertrude, "Mr. Bulson may be back at any moment."

The girl still had her pocketbook, with her money and the railroad ticket, so she would have no trouble in getting back to the metropolis. She also had over a dollar in addition, and she insisted upon having Nelson dine with her at a modest-looking restaurant, where the rates were not high.

"Your uncle ought to be told of your cousin's doings," said our hero, when they were waiting for the train. "I don't believe he would stand for it, no matter if he is displeased with you."

"I will not take the story to him," answered Gertrude with spirit. "He cast me out, and I shall not go near him until he asks me to come."

"Well, I guess I'd feel that way," answered Nelson, after a thoughtful pause. "I can't understand how he can treat his own blood as he is treating you."

"Uncle Mark was not always this way, Nelson. In years gone by he was very kind and considerate."

"His sickness. Ever since he has been confined to the house he has been nervous, peevish, and altogether a different person. I really can't understand it."

"Some folks are as mean as dirt. I want to tell you something that I never spoke of before, because I thought it wouldn't be right to misjudge Bulson when I didn't know him as well as I know him now. Do you remember I once told you how he tried to cheat George Van Pelt out of the sale of some books?"

"Poisons!" Gertrude grew pale. "Oh, Nelson! and you think——" She could not go on.

"I don't know what to think, but if I were you I'd have the doctors examine everything that Mr. Horton takes, especially the stuff Homer Bulson gives him."

"I will do that. Mr. Bulson can no longer be trusted. He is a high liver, and may be very anxious to get hold of Uncle Mark's fortune in the near future."

"He said he wanted the books because he was going to become a doctor and make poisons a specialty. That is what he told Van Pelt."

"A doctor! I don't believe he has brains enough to become a doctor—or if he has, he is too lazy to apply himself. Why, when he was a boy he was turned out of school because he wouldn't study."

"Well, if he would lie and use you as he has, he would do worse, Gertrude. For your uncle's sake he ought to be watched."

"He shall be watched," said Gertrude decidedly. "No matter how badly Uncle Mark has treated me, I will see to it that Homer Bulson no longer plays him foul."

CHAPTER XXXI. BULSON GROWS DESPERATE.

Sam Pepper was taking it easy at the rear of his resort on the evening of the day when Gertrude went to Lakewood, when the door opened and a messenger boy came in.

"Humph! so Bulson wants to close that deal to-night," muttered Sam Pepper, as he tore the message to shreds. "He's in a tremendous[Pg 241] hurry, all at once. I wonder what's new in the wind? Well, I'm low on cash, and I might as well take him up now as later on."

"Here you are," returned Pepper, and scribbled a reply on a slip of paper. Then the messenger received his pay and made off.

Promptly on time that night Sam Pepper went up Fifth Avenue. Just as he reached Homer Bulson's home the young man came down the steps.

"Come with me—the house is full of company," he said. "I want to talk to you where we will be free from interruption."

The pair walked rapidly down a side street. Homer Bulson seemed ill at ease, and Pepper noticed it.

"Well, you'll have the softest snap of it," laughed Pepper. "She'll get nothing but hard knocks."

"Oh, if she gets too hard up, I'll send her some money," responded Bulson, trying to affect a careless manner.

"I struck a little money yesterday, Pepper—that's why I sent to you. I want to go away to-morrow, and I wanted to clear up that—er—that little affair of the past before I left."

"I want all those papers you once showed me, and if you have that will I want that, too."

"Don't be so sure of that, Bulson. I know[Pg 243] the lad better than you do. He has a tender heart—far more tender than you have."

"Well, if it's a question of price, how much do you want?" demanded Homer Bulson sourly.

"If that's a fortune, what's the amount you expect to gain? Old Horton is worth over a hundred thousand, if he's worth a cent."

"But I'm not sure of this fortune yet. He's a queer old fellow. He might cut me off at the last minute."

"Not if you had that will. You could date that to suit yourself, and you'd push your game through somehow."

Homer Bulson breathed hard. The pair were on a side street, close to where a new building was being put up. The young man paused.

"You're a hard-hearted fellow, Pepper," he said. "You take the wind out of my sails. I've got to have a drink on that. Come, though. I don't bear a grudge. Drink with me."

"I'll drink with you on one condition," answered Pepper. "And that is that I get my price."

Without further ado Sam Pepper opened the flask and took a deep draught of the liquor inside.

"Phew! but that's pretty hot!" he murmured, as he smacked his lips. "Where did you get it?"

"At the club—the highest-priced stuff we have," answered Bulson. Then he placed the flask to his own lips and pretended to swallow a like portion to that taken by his companion, but touched scarcely a drop.

"Let us sit down and get to business," went on Bulson, leading the way into the unfinished[Pg 245] building. "I want to make sure that you have everything I want. I am not going to pay five thousand dollars for a blind horse."

"I'm square," muttered Sam Pepper. "When I make a deal I carry it out to the letter."

"Hang—me—if I—can—see—at—all," went on Pepper, speaking in a lower and lower tone. "I—that is—Bulson, you—you have drugged me, you—you villain!" And then he pitched forward and lay in a heap where he had fallen.

Homer Bulson surveyed his victim with gloating eyes. "He never sold better knock-out drops to any crook he served," he muttered. "Now I shall see what he has got in his pockets."

Bending over his victim, he began to search Sam Pepper's pockets. Soon he came across a thick envelope filled with letters and papers. He glanced over several of the sheets.

"All here," he murmured. "This is a lucky strike. Now Sam Pepper can whistle for his money."

"He won't dare to give me away," he said to himself. "If he does he'll go to prison for stealing the boy in the first place. And he'll never be able to prove that I drugged him because nobody saw the act. Yes, I am safe."

It did not take Homer Bulson long to reach his bachelor apartments, and once in his rooms he locked the door carefully.

Then, turning up a gas lamp, he sat down near it, to look over the papers he had taken from the insensible Pepper.

"I'll destroy the letters," he said. He smiled as he read one. "So Uncle Mark offered five thousand for the return of little David, eh? Well, it's lucky for me that Sam Pepper, alias Pepperill Sampson, didn't take him up. I reckon Pepper was too cut up over his discharge, for it kept him from getting another fat job." He took up the will. "Just what I want. Now, if Uncle Mark makes another will, I can[Pg 247] always crop up with this one, and make a little trouble for somebody."

He lit the letters one by one, and watched them turn slowly to ashes. Then he placed the other papers in the bottom of his trunk, among his books on poisons, and went to bed.

CHAPTER XXXII. SOMEBODY WAITS IN VAIN.

Mrs. Kennedy was busy at her stand, piling up some fruit, when a woman who was a stranger to her approached.

"Yes, I know Mrs. Wardell. But what is it you want, ma'am? I don't need a nurse now, though I did some time ago, goodness knows."

"I am not looking for a position," smiled Mrs. Conroy. "I am looking for a young lady named Gertrude Horton."

"I can tell you that quick enough, ma'am—but I must know if it's all right, first."

"There's a villain of a cousin, Homer Bulson, who's been tryin' to git Miss Gertrude in his clutches. You're not doing this work for him?"

"No, indeed, Mrs. Kennedy. Mr. Horton sent me himself. He wants Miss Gertrude to come straight home. He wants her to forgive him for his harshness."

"To hear that now!" ejaculated Mrs. Kennedy joyfully. "What a change must have come over him!"

"I do not know how he was before, but he is now very anxious for her to return. He thinks he might get better if she were with him."

"Then I'll return and tell him that," said the nurse. "Be sure and insist upon her coming. He is so anxious he is almost crazy over it."

"I guess it was his sickness did it, Mrs. Kennedy. The man is not himself; anybody can see that. The case puzzles the doctors very much."

Mrs. Conroy had some necessary shopping to do, but an hour saw her returning to the mansion on Fifth Avenue.

"I cannot answer that question, Mr. Horton. I told the woman with whom she lives to send her up here."

"Did you say she must come—that I wanted[Pg 251] her to come?" persisted the retired merchant eagerly.

All that afternoon Mark Horton showed his impatience. Usually he took a nap, but now he could not sleep. He insisted upon getting up and walking around.

"The very thought that she will be back makes me feel stronger," he declared. "It is more of a tonic than Homer's wine."

"Please do not grow impatient," said Mrs. Conroy. "You know there may be some delay."

Slowly the evening came on and the street lamps were lit. Mr. Horton sat at a front window, looking out. He did not want a light in the room.

He was now feverish, but would not take the soothing draught the nurse prepared. Hour after hour passed, and presently he saw Homer[Pg 252] Bulson enter his quarters, and then go out again.

"I do not know how Homer will take the news," he told himself. "But he will have to make the best of it. Of one thing I am resolved—Gertrude shall do as she pleases if only she remains with me, and she shall have half of my fortune when I die."

At last it was nine o'clock, and then the sick man became more nervous than ever. Every time a woman appeared on the dimly lit street he would watch her eagerly until she went past the mansion.

At ten o'clock Mrs. Conroy tried to get him to bed, but he was stubborn and would not go. Another hour went by, and then another. As the clock struck twelve Mark Horton fell forward in his chair.

"She has deserted me!" he groaned. "And I deserve it all!" And he sank in a chair in a dead faint.

With an effort the nurse placed him upon the bed and did what she could for him. But the shock had been great, and in haste she sent for a physician.

"He has had them before," explained the [Pg 253]doctor. "I will give him something quieting—I can do no more. Each shock brings him closer to the end. It is the most puzzling case on record."

As he was so feeble Mrs. Conroy thought best to send for his nephew, and Homer Bulson was summoned just as he was waking up.

"All right, I'll be over," he said, with a yawn. He did not feel like hurrying, for he was tired, and had been through such an experience before. It was after eight when he at last showed himself.

"Not now, Homer. I feel as if I never cared to eat or drink again." And Mark Horton gave a groan.

"I will confess I did, Homer. I could stand it no longer. I wanted to see the dear child again."

"She did. I sent for her to come at once. She had not gone to Boston, but to Lakewood, and was to be back in the evening. That was yesterday. She is not yet here, and that proves that she has forsaken me and wants nothing more to do with me."

"Uncle Mark, I am sorry for you, but I could have told you as much some time ago," he said smoothly.

"Yes. I went to Gertrude when she was thinking of going to Boston and begged her to come back. I even offered to go away, so that she would not be bothered with me. But she would not listen. She said that she was done with you, and that she preferred her theatrical friends to such a home as this, where there was no excitement. She is changed—and changed for the worse."

"Oh, Homer! can this be true? The dear, gentle Gertrude I once so loved and petted! But it is my own fault. I drove her away. I have only myself to blame." And burying his face in his pillow, the sick man sobbed aloud.

Instead of replying, Homer Bulson got out of a medicine closet the bottle of wine he had brought two days before and poured out a glassful.

"No, I want no wine!" cried Mr. Horton. And suddenly he dashed wine and glass to the floor. "I hate it! It does me no good. I want nothing but Gertrude!" And he buried his face in his pillow again.

He remained at the mansion a short while, and was then told that there was a man who wished to see him.

He hurried to his own apartments across the way, and here found himself face to face with Sam Pepper.

"You played me a fine trick," growled Pepper. "Give me back the papers you stole from me."

"Let us come to an understanding," said[Pg 256] Bulson. "I am willing to pay for what I took, Pepper. Come with me."

CHAPTER XXXIII. QUESTIONS OF IMPORTANCE.

"Sure, and this is a double mystery, so it is. What do you make of it, Mr. Van Pelt?"

It was Mrs. Kennedy who spoke. The non-appearance of Gertrude had worried her greatly, and she had visited Van Pelt, to learn that Nelson was also missing.

"I don't know what to make of it," answered George Van Pelt. "Nelson went after Billy Darnley, who robbed our stand. Perhaps he has met with foul play."

"Perhaps Mrs. Broaderick asked her to stay over," said Van Pelt. "I can't think of anything else."

She was right, and soon our hero was at the stand, and shaking each by the hand.

"Where have you been?" questioned Van Pelt and Mrs. Kennedy in a breath, and then he told them his story, and also told of what had happened to Gertrude.

"The dirty villain!" cried Mrs. Kennedy, referring to Bulson. "He ought to be put in prison. But the poor girl's troubles are over now."

"Perhaps he wants her back, and perhaps this is another trick," said Nelson. "After this I am going to help guard her more than ever."

"At home. She doesn't know what to do. She thinks of calling on her uncle—to warn him against Bulson. We've got an idea the man is poisoning his uncle in order to get the entire fortune."

The matter was talked over, and our hero determined to call again upon Gertrude, whom he had just left at Mrs. Kennedy's rooms.

When told of the message her uncle had sent the poor girl burst into tears of joy.

"Dear Uncle Mark! He is not as bad as I thought!" she cried. "He would be as kind as ever, if he wasn't so sick. Yes, I will go at once, and I will tell him all."

"And I'll go along—to prove your story and to tell him about the books on poisons," said Nelson.

Soon the pair were on their way to the mansion on Fifth Avenue. Gertrude was all in a tremble, and could scarcely contain herself for joy. The housekeeper let her in, with a smile.

"I am glad to see you back," she said warmly. "I hope you'll stay, Miss Gertrude."

Instead of replying the girl ran to meet him, and in another moment uncle and niece were in each other's arms.

"My dear Gertrude," murmured the feeble man, "I am so thankful you have come back to me! I was cruel, nay crazy—but I will never be so again. Will you forgive me?"

"Willingly, uncle," she answered. "You were not yourself; it was your sickness made you act so. Now I will nurse you back to health and strength."

"Ah! Gertrude! I do not feel as if I can get back my strength again. I am too far gone," murmured the retired merchant.

"Rest yourself, uncle." And she led him to a chair. "After a while I want to have a long talk with you. But tell me first, have you been taking any wine lately—I mean the wine Homer Bulson gave you?"

"A little. But I do not like it—although he almost forces me to take it. Why do you ask?"

As briefly as she could she told of what had[Pg 261] happened to her since she had left home, how Homer Bulson had followed her up, and what he had done at Lakewood. Then she spoke of Van Pelt and Nelson, and how they could prove that Bulson had purchased several books on poisons. At this last revelation Mark Horton grew deadly pale.

"And you think——" He faltered, and paused. "Oh, Heavens, can it be possible? My own nephew!"

"I would have the wine analyzed," said Gertrude. "And I would have him watched carefully."

"Doctor, I want that wine examined without delay," broke in the retired merchant.

The doctor smiled, thinking this was another of the sick man's whims. But Gertrude called him aside.

"We think the wine is poisoned," she whispered. "Examine it as soon as you can, and report to me."

"Oh!" The doctor's face became a study. "By Jove, if this is true——" He said no more, but soon departed, taking the wine with him, and also a glass of jelly Bulson had brought in for his uncle's use.

"And so you have brought Nelson with you," said Mark Horton. "Perhaps I had better see him."

"Do you remember him?" asked Gertrude, her face flushing. "He was in the library that night——"

"So that is the young man that was here! Gertrude, for the life of me I cannot understand that affair."

"Nelson did not want to explain all he knew, because he wanted to shield a man who used to care for him, uncle. He thought the man came here to rob you, but he made a mistake, for after he left this house he saw the man come out of the house opposite, with Homer Bulson."

"A rough kind of a fellow who keeps a saloon on the East Side. His name is Samuel Pepper."

"Samuel Pepper? Samuel Pepper?" Mark Horton repeated the name slowly. "That sounds familiar. Pepper? Pepper? Ah!" He[Pg 263] drew a breath. "Can it be the same?" he mused.

Soon our hero was ushered into the sick room. He was dressed in his best, and cut far from a mean figure as he stood there, hat in hand.

"That's all right," said Nelson rather awkwardly. "I'd do a good deal for Gertrude, any day."

"I am willing to believe that I was mistaken." Mark Horton paused for a moment. "Gertrude tells me you live with a man named Sam Pepper," he went on slowly.

"I used to live with him, but we parted some time ago. I didn't want anything to do with drink or with a saloon, and I did want to make a man of myself."

"That was very commendable in you. But[Pg 264] tell me, is this man's right name Sam Pepper?"

"I hardly think it is, sir. I once saw some letters, and they were addressed to Pepperill Sampson."

"The same! He must be the same!" Mark Horton breathed hard. "Do you know anything about him—where he came from, and so on?"

"Not much. You see, I'm not very old. But he did tell me once that you had been an enemy to my father."

"This Pepperill Sampson is a villain. Why, he robbed me of my son years ago, to get square with me because I had discharged him for stealing."

"Robbed you of your son?" repeated Nelson. "Do you mean to say he killed your boy?"

"I don't know what he did. At first he was going to let me have my little David back for five thousand dollars, but then he got scared, and disappeared, and that was the last I heard of him or of my child."

"Then David may be alive!" cried Gertrude.[Pg 265] "Nelson——" She stopped short. Each person in the room gazed questioningly at the others. Our hero's breath came thick and fast. Then the door bell below rang violently, and Nelson and Gertrude heard Mrs. Kennedy admitted.

CHAPTER XXXIV. FATHER AND SON—CONCLUSION.

"It's Nelson an' Miss Gertrude I want to see," those in the sick chamber heard Mrs. Kennedy exclaim. "An' I want to see 'em at once. I have great news for 'em."

"I'll go," said Nelson, and slipped downstairs, followed by Gertrude. They found Mrs. Kennedy in a state of high excitement. Her faded bonnet was on one ear, and she walked the floor rapidly.

"Oh, my! Upon me soul, I can't belave it!" she burst out. "It's like a dream, Nelson, so it is."

"The story I have to tell, Nelson. Poor, poor man! but it was all for the best—wid that crime on his mind."

"Yes, dead; cut to pieces on the elevated railroad, at the station close to me little stand. He died wid me a-holdin' av his hand."

"It's too bad," murmured Nelson. "Poor fellow! he had some ways about him that I liked."

"But it's not that I came about," went on Mrs. Kennedy. "Whin they brought the poor man to the sidewalk to wait for an ambulance, I stayed by him, and he says to me, says he, 'Mrs. Kennedy, I have something on me mind,' says he. 'I want to tell it to you,' says he. So says I, 'What is it?' Says he, 'It's about Nelson. He's a good boy,' says he. 'And I aint done right by him. Tell him I stole him from his father, and that his father is Mr. Mark Horton, Miss Gertrude's uncle.'"

"Mark Horton my father!" gasped Nelson, and the room seemed to go round and round in a bewildering whirl. "He my father! Can it be true?"

"And he says, too, 'Beware of Homer Bulson. He is a thief—he robbed his uncle's safe.[Pg 268] I caught him at it. He has his uncle's will, too,' says poor Pepper. 'He wants to git hold of all the money,' says he."

"Yes, I know Homer Bulson is a rascal," said Nelson. "But this other news——" He sank in a chair.

"Then you are David Horton, Nelson!" cried Gertrude. "I am indeed very glad of it. I know of no one I would like more for a cousin."

"David Horton!" came a hollow voice from the doorway, and Mr. Horton staggered in. "Can this be possible? It must be! See, I recognize his face now. Yes, yes; you are my son David! Come to me!" And he held out his arms.

Nelson came forward slowly, then of a sudden he reached forth, and grasped Mark Horton's hands tightly.

"I—I suppose it's true," he faltered. "But it will take me a long time to—to get used to it."

"My little David had just such eyes and hair as you have," went on Mark Horton, as he still held Nelson closely to him. "And your face reminds me greatly of your mother. There can be no mistake. You are my own little David."

"Well, I'm glad that I'm not Nelson, the nobody, any longer," stammered our young hero. He could scarcely talk intelligibly, he felt so queer.

"Well, I always thought we'd be something to each other, Gertrude," said he. "But, come to think of it, if I am David Horton, then Homer Bulson is a cousin, too."

"Do not fear! He shall not come between you," said Mark Horton. "My eyes are being opened to his schemes."

She had scarcely spoken when there was another arrival at the mansion, and Homer Bulson came in.

On seeing the assembled company, he was nearly struck dumb. He looked from one to another in open-mouthed and speechless amazement.

"And you?" he added, turning sharply to our[Pg 270] hero. "You have no business in a gentleman's house."

"Hush, uncle! We will deal with him," remonstrated Gertrude. "Pray, do not excite yourself."

"I have business here," said our hero dryly, realizing that he had a great advantage over Bulson. "You hardly expected to see Gertrude come back from Lakewood so soon, did you?"

"If you call an officer, you'll be the one to go with him," returned our hero calmly. "Homer Bulson, your game is played to the end, and you have lost."

"Then I'll explain myself. You plotted to drive Gertrude from this house, and you [Pg 271]succeeded. Then you plotted against your uncle, and had Gertrude made a prisoner at Lakewood."

"Why, has that fool come here?" roared Bulson, in a rage. "I told him——" He stopped short in confusion.

"Sam Pepper is dead—killed on the elevated railroad. Before he died he confessed several things, and, among others, what a villain you were."

At this Homer Bulson grew as pale as death. He clutched at a table, then sank heavily on a near-by chair.

"It is true," broke in Mark Horton. "The boy is my son. This Sam Pepper was merely Pepperill Sampson in disguise. Homer, you are a villain!"

"No, I won't listen to you. I listened before; now I am done. If you ever try to lift a finger[Pg 272] against Gertrude or David, I will cut you off without a penny."

"I am having the wine which you gave me examined. If I find that it was doctored—well, you had better be missing, that's all," added Mark Horton sternly. "I am willing to do much to avoid a family scandal, but I will not stand too much."

"It's an outrage! I won't stand it!" he shouted. "You are all plotting against me!" And so speaking, he ran to the hall, picked up his silk hat, and hastily rushed from the mansion.

"So much the better, for then all scandal will be avoided, and we will be very well rid of him."

"Yes; let him go," added Gertrude. [Pg 273]"Possibly he will repent and turn over a new leaf."

"All right! Give him the chance," murmured the boy, and then turning to his father, he added: "I guess I can afford to be generous when I've gained a father, and such a cousin as Gertrude!"

A few words more, and then we will bring this story of life in New York City to a close.

As anticipated, Homer Bulson fled from the city without delay, and nothing was heard of him for months, when it was learned that he had joined an exploring expedition bound for South Africa. A year later he sent a long letter to his uncle, stating that he was in the mines of the Transvaal, and doing fairly well. He added that he bitterly repented of his wrongdoings, and hoped his uncle and the others would forgive him. To this Mr. Horton replied that he would forgive him if he continued to make a man of himself, and this Bulson did, within his limited ability.

Great was George Van Pelt's astonishment when he learned that Nelson was Mr. Horton's lost son. At first he refused to believe what was told him.

"No," said our hero. "I'm going to give my share to Paul Randall. And what is more, I'll pay that money we borrowed from Mr. Amos Barrow; so neither of you will have any debt hanging over you."

Our hero was as good as his word, and not only did he clear the news stand, but some time later he purchased a better fruit-and-candy stand for Mrs. Kennedy, and also a first-class flower stand for Gladys Summers.

"You're a fine young gentleman," said Mrs. Kennedy. "A fine boy, Nelson—beggin' your pardon, Master David."

"I'm not used to the name yet," laughed our hero. "I guess I will be Nelson the Newsboy for a long time to come among my old friends."

"I am very thankful to you," said Gladys. "That flower stand is just what I wanted." And she gave Nelson her sweetest smile.

Nothing had been heard of the Victory or of Billy Darnley. The ship sailed to the West Indies and to South America, and from there to the Pacific, and whatever became of the bully David Horton never learned, nor did he care. Len Snocks drifted to Jersey City, and then to[Pg 275] the West, and became a tramp, and was at last killed while stealing a ride on a freight train.

As soon as it was discovered how Mr. Horton had been slowly poisoned, the doctor set to work to counteract the effects of the drugs. Gertrude, our hero, and Mrs. Conroy took turns in caring for the sick man, and before very long he began to show signs of rapid improvement.

"It is like some terrible nightmare," he explained one day, when walking out, with Gertrude on one side of him and David on the other. "I was not myself at all."

"No, you were not yourself," said Gertrude. "But you soon will be." And she was right. By the following spring Mark Horton was a comparatively well man.

These events all occurred a number of years ago, and since that time several important things have happened to our hero. As soon as his identity was established he was provided with a private tutor, who taught him for several years and prepared him for Columbia College. He passed through college with flying colors,, and then took up civil engineering, and to-day he is building large bridges for a leading railroad company. He is doing well, and is [Pg 276]devoted to his work. He lives with his father and his cousin and is very happy. But even in his happiness it is not likely that he will ever forget the days when he was "Nelson the Newsboy."

CHAPTER		PAGE
I.	Introducing the Hero,	1
II.	A Quarrel over a Dollar,	9
III.	Sam Pepper's Resort,	17
IV.	Down at the Ferry,	25
V.	Nelson Speaks His Mind,	35
VI.	A Book Agent's Trials,	43
VII.	A Harsh Alternative,	55
VIII.	The Combination of the Safe,	63
IX.	A Pair Well Matched,	69
X.	Gertrude Leaves Her Home,	77
XI.	Afloat in New York,	85
XII.	Nelson Recovers Some Money,	94
XIII.	A Question of Business,	102
XIV.	Bulson Receives a Setback,	111
XV.	Buying Out a News Stand,	119
XVI.	Nelson and Pepper Part,	127
XVII.	A Bold Move,	134
XVIII.	In the Hands of the Enemy,	140
XIX.	Nelson to the Rescue,	147
XX.	The Home in the Tenement,	155
XXI.	Nelson Makes a Present,	162
XXII.	A Disappointment,	170
XXIII.	An Unsuccessful Quest,	176
[Pg vi]XXIV.	A Decoy Letter,	183
XXV.	Mark Horton Relents,	190
XXVI.	Nelson on Shipboard,	198
XXVII.	Down the Jersey Coast,	206
XXVIII.	Gertrude Has an Adventure,	215
XXIX.	A Surprise on the Road,	224
XXX.	Comparing Notes,	233
XXXI.	Bulson Grows Desperate,	240
XXXII.	Somebody Waits in Vain,	248
XXXIII.	Questions of Importance,	257
XXXIV.	Father and Son—Conclusion,	266

NELSON THENEWSBOY