"I got your letter and found it very interesting. I hope you make your fortune in the city. It's certainly a fine place to go to, and maybe I'll try it myself some day. Country life is awful slow, and work is mighty hard. I have been hoeing corn to-day till my back aches ready to fall apart."Your uncle was awful mad to think you had run away, and madder still when he found you had sold the cow. He thought you were hiding in Cleveland, and he stayed in that city three days before he gave up the search. He claims that the cow belonged to him—that he took it for board and clothing for you, and he also sticks to it that you tried to burn down his barn. He says he is going to make it hot for you if he ever finds you. You can make sure I shan't tell him where you are."
"I got your letter and found it very interesting. I hope you make your fortune in the city. It's certainly a fine place to go to, and maybe I'll try it myself some day. Country life is awful slow, and work is mighty hard. I have been hoeing corn to-day till my back aches ready to fall apart.
"Your uncle was awful mad to think you had run away, and madder still when he found you had sold the cow. He thought you were hiding in Cleveland, and he stayed in that city three days before he gave up the search. He claims that the cow belonged to him—that he took it for board and clothing for you, and he also sticks to it that you tried to burn down his barn. He says he is going to make it hot for you if he ever finds you. You can make sure I shan't tell him where you are."
Nat read the letter with keen interest, not once but several times, and shook his head slowly over the communication.
"I suppose Uncle Abner will always think I set fire to the barn," he thought. "Wish I could catch the person who really did do it. Must have been some tramp who was sleeping there and using a pipe."
At the end of the third week's work Nat had seven dollars saved, of which amount he was reasonably proud. But now came a setback for which he was not prepared.
"We have sold this concern to another party," said one of the proprietors to him. "After Saturday your services will be no longer required."
"Won't the new bosses need me?"
"No, for they have all the help of their own that they can use. Only our head bookkeeper will remain."
This was on Thursday, and during the balance of the week our hero looked around in his spare hours for another position, but without success. Monday morning found him doing nothing.
"As you said, it is not so easy to get a hold," said he to Dick. "Still, I don't feel quite so green as when I first reached New York. I at least know something about the streets and the stores."
Nat lost no time in looking for another place. But nothing turned up Monday or Tuesday, and Wednesday it rained so hard that he did not go out until after noon. Then he visited a fashionable wholesale jewelry establishment. Here he was asked to wait, while one of the proprietors interviewed a young man who had come in ahead of our hero.
The young man was dressed as a perfect dude, with a light checked suit, and very light gloves. He spoke with a drawl, and Nat heard every word that he said.
"What is your business, sir?" asked the jeweler.
"I believe, sir," said the young gentleman, "that you advertised for a—aw—a secretary."
"A clerk, yes, sir."
"Aw, all the same. Well, sir—aw—if we can agree upon terms, I should be—aw—flattered to proffer my services."
"Ah, indeed!" And the jeweler raised his eyebrows slightly.
"Yes, sir. You will be pleased to learn that all my connections—aw—move in the first circles."
"Undoubtedly that is very gratifying. But you mentioned terms. May I ask you what you expect?"
"Well, sir, perhaps a couple of thousand or so, a year. Then, I should wish to make certain stipulations—aw—as to the time I'm employed."
"Go on."
"For example, I never—aw—get up very early. I think it injures the health. But I think I could manage to get to the office by ten in the morning."
"I see."
"Then, I should want—aw—to have Saturday afternoons to myself, both in winter and summer. I always go to the theater matinées—so many—aw—pretty girls there," continued the dude.
"And what else?"
"I should not want to work later than five in the afternoon. Excessive labor is injurious to the health."
"Perhaps that is true."
"Then I should—aw—wish it understood that I could have five or six weeks off in the summer, so that I can visit the springs or the seashore," continued the dude. "Is that satisfactory?"
"I suppose it would be, to you," answered the jeweler.
"I think so."
"It wouldn't satisfy us at all."
"Really! That is too bad!"
"We want a man here who can work, and who is not afraid of long hours, and who doesn't set quite such a high figure on his services. You'll never fill the bill in the wide world. Good-day!"
"Really!" murmured the dude, and after staring at the jeweler, he turned on his heel and left in utter disgust. Several who had overheard the interview laughed out-right.
"What a perfect fool!" thought Nat. "I wonder if anybody will ever give him anything to do?"
"What can I do for you, young man?" asked the jeweler, turning to the boy.
"I am looking for work, sir."
"Are your expectations as high as those of the chap who just left?"
"No, sir. I am willing to work hard and I am not afraid of long hours."
"Then you are not a dude?"
"No, sir. Do I look like one?"
"You look like a country lad."
"I came from the country about a month ago. I've been working for Trumbull & Davison, the paper dealers. But they have sold out to another firm and don't need me any longer."
"I see. Well, I am sorry for you, for you look bright and honest. But I need somebody with experience in the jewelry line."
"Then you haven't any place that I can fill?"
"No, I—but hold on. I'll tell you what I might do. Do you know anything about horses?"
"Yes, sir."
"And about a garden?"
"Yes, sir. I was brought up on a farm."
"I need a man around my country home in New Jersey. I might try you there, at twelve dollars a month and your board."
Again Nat's face fell.
"Thank you, but I want to get something to do in the city," said he. "I am tired of farm life."
"Then I can't give you anything," and the jeweler turned away.
During the remainder of the day Nat visited several other stores and offices. But everywhere he received the same answer—that he was too late and the position advertised was already filled.
"Perhaps I did wrong not to take that position over in New Jersey," he thought, on his way to his boarding house. "But I don't want to go back to farm work if I can help it."
Two additional days passed, and still Nat found nothing to do, although he tramped from Forty-second Street clear down to the Battery several times. Then he obtained a job which lasted three days and paid him but two dollars.
"This isn't earning a living," he reasoned. "Unless I do better I'll have to try selling papers or blacking boots."
One morning he did try selling papers, under the tutorship of Dick, but the effort was not a success. By noon he had earned exactly nineteen cents and had sixteen papers still on hand.
"I guess you wasn't cut out for a newsboy," said Dick, frankly. "What you want to do is, to get a steady job in a store or office."
"Yes, but the jobs are mighty scarce," answered Nat.
A week passed, and the country boy could find nothing more to do that was steady. One day he helped a man distribute bills, and on another occasion he carried out packages for a florist, and the two jobs brought him in just a dollar. By this time the soles were worn from his shoes and he had to have them mended.
"Making one's way in the city isn't so easy after all," he thought one night, as he sat in his little room, on the edge of the bed. He had been counting up his money and found that he had but a little over four dollars left.
"I'll have to give Mrs. Talcott three and a half of that," he continued, "and that will leave me sixty-five cents. I've got to hustle or I'll be high and dry by next week."
Nat hustled all of the next week, but without results. In one store the proprietor was unusually harsh to him, and he came back to Mrs. Talcott's house more downcast than ever.
"I guess they don't want me in New York after all," he mused. "If I can't get something to do I can't stay here, for Mrs. Talcott can't afford to keep me. I'll have to starve!"
He was so disheartened that he did not feel like eating. Immediately after the meal he went to his little room. Then, of a sudden he thought of the letter Paul Hampton had given him.
"I may as well open that," he reasoned. "Goodness knows I am short enough of funds, and pretty well discouraged too."
The letter was in his pocket, still pinned fast, and he brought it forth and gazed at it speculatively.
"It would be just like him to put a five-dollar bill in it," he thought.
With his penknife he slit the envelope open, and looked inside. It contained a slip of paper and another slip, of a green color.
"A bill, as sure as I'm in this room!" he ejaculated. "I don't suppose it's less than a five, and maybe it's a ten. If he—well I declare!"
Nat rushed to the window to look at the bill, and then with a gasp he sank back on the only chair which the little bedroom contained. He could scarcely believe the evidence of his senses.
The bank bill was one for a hundred dollars.
Nat continued to gaze at the bill like one in a dream. He had never seen a greenback that was worth a hundred dollars before, but he had no doubt of its genuineness.
"A hundred dollars!" he repeated several times. "Why, it's a small fortune!"
Then he began to wonder if Paul Hampton had not made a mistake, and turned to the slip of paper, upon which he found written:
"I give you this hundred dollars for what you did for me at Niagara Falls. Don't be discouraged. If you ever need a friend, write or come and see me. I sincerely hope the money will bring you good fortune."
"I give you this hundred dollars for what you did for me at Niagara Falls. Don't be discouraged. If you ever need a friend, write or come and see me. I sincerely hope the money will bring you good fortune."
"What a kind man," murmured Nat, and read the note again. "It was a mighty lucky thing for me that I went to the Falls."
When he went to bed he felt rich, and he came to the breakfast table whistling merrily.
"Hullo," cried Dick, "have you struck luck at last?"
"I'm in luck in one way," answered our hero. "Look at that," and he showed the bank bill.
"Why, it's a hundred dollars, Nat!" And the newsboy's eyes opened widely.
"Exactly."
"Where on earth did you get the money?"
"A gentleman gave it to me."
"What for?"
"For saving his life. But I didn't know I had it until I went to bed last night."
"You're talking in riddles."
"I'll explain," and then our hero told as much of the Niagara Falls episode as he deemed necessary.
"Here is the note," he concluded, showing the slip of paper, which was unsigned. "I don't feel at liberty to mention the gentleman's name. I don't think it would be just right."
"A rich man like that would be a fool to commit suicide," said Dick, bluntly. "What are you going to do with all that money?"
"I don't know. But I shan't squander it, I can tell you that."
"You can go into business for yourself on that amount."
"Maybe, but I guess I had better keep on hunting for a job. I can go into business for myself when I know more about New York."
"That's where you are sensible. You might lose your money in double-quick time in your own business."
Nat put the bill away very carefully, and then went out to look for a position as before. But the week passed and nothing turned up.
On Sunday the country boy attended a church in the vicinity of his boarding house, and in the afternoon he took a walk to Central Park. In the evening he stayed at home and read a paper which Dick brought in.
As was natural Nat read over the want advertisements very carefully. It was not long before he came to one which excited his curiosity. The advertisement was as follows:
"WANTED—A clerk, to whom a liberal salary will be paid. One preferred who comes from the country and is not too old. References expected. Must deposit $100 as security, for which interest will be paid. Inquire Room 24, Dallax Building, Broadway."
"WANTED—A clerk, to whom a liberal salary will be paid. One preferred who comes from the country and is not too old. References expected. Must deposit $100 as security, for which interest will be paid. Inquire Room 24, Dallax Building, Broadway."
"That ought to strike me," mused Nat, as he laid down the paper. "Just the thing, and no mistake. I'll go and see about it."
Our hero had acquired sufficient knowledge of New York to find the place indicated in the advertisement without much trouble. It was a four-story stone building, and he walked up two flights of stairs until he reached Room 24. On the door was the sign:
Hamilton DartBrokerage and Commissions
Hamilton DartBrokerage and Commissions
Entering the office he found it plainly but neatly furnished with two desks and several chairs. In front of one of the desks sat a middle-aged man, well dressed, and smoking a cigar.
"Is this Mr. Dart?" questioned Nat, taking off his hat.
"That is my name," responded Hamilton Dart, with a keen glance at our hero.
"Did you advertise for a clerk. I saw an advertisement——"
"Oh, yes!" interrupted the man. "Pray be seated," and he motioned to one of the chairs. "You came to see about the place, did you?"
"Yes, sir. You advertised that you would like somebody from the country, and that hits me."
"You came from the country to try your luck?"
"Yes, sir. I got tired of the farm."
Hamilton Dart smiled good-naturedly, and blew a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling of his office.
"I don't blame you. I got tired of the farm myself when I was about your age, and came here with less than a hundred dollars in my pocket."
"Well, I came with just a little more than that," answered Nat, innocently.
"Indeed! Then you are better off than I was. But I shan't complain, for I have made money right along. But what do you think I am worth now?"
"I don't know, I am sure—five or ten thousand dollars maybe."
"Nearly fifty thousand dollars," and Hamilton Dart looked at Nat, coolly and innocently.
"Fifty thousand!" cried the boy. "You've certainly been lucky. I wish I could make that much."
"You have the same opportunities that I had. Let me see, what did you say your name was?"
"I didn't say. It is Nat Nason."
"I am glad to know you. You have a bright and honest face, and faces count a good deal with me."
This was gratifying to Nat, and he could not help but think that Mr. Dart was a pleasant gentleman with whom to deal.
"I advertised for a country young man because I was that myself once, and I like to help country young men along," continued Hamilton Dart. "You are out of work at present?"
"Yes, sir. I worked for a firm, but they sold out to another firm."
"I see. Have you any recommendations? Not that they are strictly necessary from one who looks so honest."
"I can refer you to the firm I worked for."
"That will be satisfactory, although I don't mind telling you that I am very particular in the selection of my clerks. So far I have rejected seventeen who applied."
"I should try my best to do what was right," answered Nat, modestly.
"That is the way I like to hear a person talk."
"Then you will take me?"
"We haven't agreed on terms yet. What do you expect in the way of salary?"
"I guess I'll leave that to you," answered Nat, after some hesitation.
"What did you get at your last place?"
"Seven dollars a week."
"Humph! Your employer was not very liberal. A clerk that is worth anything to me is worth ten dollars a week at least."
The mentioning of ten dollars made Nat's heart jump.
"If you'll pay me ten dollars a week, Mr. Dart, I'll do my level best to earn it."
"Do you write a fair hand?"
"Here is my handwriting," answered the boy, and wrote his name on a piece of paper.
"That is quite good—for a boy. I think you will improve by practice. Here you will have quite some writing to do, and bills to sort out. But the work will not be difficult, for the summer is our dull season."
"I see."
"By the way, I suppose you know I require a deposit of one hundred dollars from each of my clerks," went on Hamilton Dart, with assumed carelessness. "Sometimes my clerks have quite some money to handle for me."
"I can make that deposit," answered Nat. "Will I get a receipt for it?"
"To be sure, and I will also pay you six per cent. interest on the money. You can have it back whenever you leave my service. When can you make the deposit?"
"Right now, if you say so."
"Very well; I'll make out the receipt."
Hamilton Dart wrote out a receipt for a hundred dollars, and signed his name with a flourish. He passed it to Nat, and the boy handed him the hundred-dollar bill.
"You don't believe in carrying small bills," said the man, with an assumed smile.
"That is the only big bill I ever owned," was the answer.
Hamilton Dart pocketed the bill, and looked out of the window as if in deep thought.
"I was thinking you might go to work to-day, but perhaps it will be as well to go to work to-morrow," he said, after a pause. "Come at nine o'clock sharp."
"I will, sir."
"Then that is all for the present. I am sure we will get along very well together. To-morrow another clerk will be here to help you along."
Hamilton Dart turned to his desk, and began to write. Feeling himself dismissed, Nat said "good-morning," and bowed himself out. The man listened to his footsteps as he descended the stairs, and then gave a low chuckle.
"That was easy, Nick," he muttered. "Two so far. I wonder how many more fools I'll catch before the game plays out?"
"Well, I've struck luck again," said Nat, when he arrived at his boarding place, and met Dick Talcott.
"Got a job?" questioned the newsboy.
"Yes."
"I hope you're going to get pretty good wages?"
"Ten dollars per week," answered Nat, with just a trace of pride in his voice.
"Ten dollars. That is luck. What at?"
"I'm in a broker's office, and I'm to do writing and sorting out bills."
"Where is the place?"
"Down on Broadway."
"I'm glad to hear of this, Nat," said the newsboy. "Wish I could strike something like that."
"Perhaps you will some day, Dick."
"The trouble is I can't write very well. I never had much schooling."
"If you wish, I'll teach you how to write. It always came easy to me."
"Will you teach me? I'll do my best to learn. We can go at it nights."
Early on the following morning, Nat presented himself at the office on Broadway. He had shined his shoes and brushed his clothes, and presented a very neat appearance. He found Hamilton Dart at his desk, and smoking as before.
"I wish you to go to the post office for me," said the man, as soon as he entered. "Go to the general delivery window and ask for letters for Samuel Barrows. That is my sick brother-in-law who is visiting me from Michigan."
"Yes, sir."
"Of course you know where the post office is?"
"Oh, yes. I've been past there several times."
"You needn't be in a hurry. Wait until they sort the eleven-o'clock mail."
"Yes, sir."
The distance to the post office was a considerable one. But Nat was a good walker, and found it was only half-past nine when he got there. To while away the time he determined to walk out on the Brooklyn Bridge and take in the sights from that elevated structure.
Making his way through the crowd on Park Row, he was soon out on the bridge, and walking in the direction of Brooklyn. There was a stiff breeze blowing, and several times his hat was almost lifted from his head.
Suddenly he heard a shout, and saw a stout man running wildly after some papers which the wind was carrying along the walk on the bridge. The man secured one of the papers, but two others were fast blowing beyond his reach, when Nat rushed up and secured them just as they were on the point of being carried into the river.
"Have—you—got them?" puffed the man, as Nat came towards him.
"Yes, sir. Here you are," and Nat held out the papers.
"Good! I was afraid they were lost to me!" And the stranger heaved a heavy sigh of relief.
"Were they valuable?" asked our hero, curiously.
"Quite so. They are the legal documents in an important real estate case now before the courts. It was very kind of you to pick them up for me."
"Oh, it wasn't so much to do," answered Nat.
"Nevertheless, I am much obliged," added the stout man, warmly. "I shouldn't have come out on the bridge with them. But I love to get the breeze. I think it does me good. Much obliged;" and then he passed on.
"I guess he's a lawyer, or a real estate dealer," thought Nat. "Well, he ought to walk. It may take some of the fat off of him."
Nat walked half-way to Brooklyn, and then back again. Shortly after eleven o'clock he presented himself at the proper window of the post office.
"Has the eleven o'clock mail been sorted yet?" he asked.
"Certainly."
"Have you any letters for Samuel Barrows?"
The clerk looked through one of the boxes beside him.
"Nothing," he answered, briefly.
"Nothing at all?"
The post office clerk shook his head. Seeing this Nat walked away, and started back for the office.
He did not suspect that his employer had sent him to the post office merely to get him out of the office, yet such was the fact. Hamilton Dart had no brother-in-law named Samuel Barrows.
As a matter of fact, Hamilton Dart—that was not his real name, but let us use it for the present, nevertheless—was nothing but a swindler. He was worth only a few hundred dollars, and his brokerage and commission business was such in name only.
While Nat was on his post office errand, Hamilton Dart had two other callers. The first was a bright young man, hailing from Newark, New Jersey.
"I am sure you will suit me," said Hamilton Dart, after questioning the young man. "I am very much pleased with your appearance."
"Thank you," was the brief answer.
"You may go to work to-morrow at twelve dollars per week. Will that suit?"
"Yes, sir."
"You will, of course, put up one hundred dollars as security," added the assumed broker.
"What security will you give?" demanded the bright young man from Newark.
"Oh, I'll give you my personal note," answered Hamilton Dart, carelessly.
"Well, I'll think it over."
"Eh? I thought you wanted to accept on the spot?" demanded the swindler.
"No, sir," answered the young man. He intended to make some inquiries into Hamilton Dart's financial standing before investing his cash. "I'll come around again to-morrow morning."
"I shall give the place to somebody else before that time," was the cold response.
"If you do, I'll be out of it," was the equally cold answer of the young Jerseyman, and he walked out of the office.
"One fish I didn't land," muttered Hamilton Dart to himself. "Better luck next time."
Hardly had the young man left than a sickly-looking middle-aged man appeared. He had been in the hospital for two months, and out of work for twice that length of time.
"You advertised for a clerk," he said, sitting down on a chair.
"Yes."
"I am a bookkeeper, and an all-round office man," added the sick man. "I am willing to work hard for low wages."
"I am always willing to pay good wages to the right man," answered Hamilton Dart, smoothly.
At this the face of the sick man brightened.
"I have been sick," he went on, apologetically. "But I am getting stronger every day."
"Well, the work here is not very hard."
"What could you pay me?"
"Twelve dollars per week."
"That would suit me nicely."
"Then you can come to work to-morrow. But you will have to put up one hundred dollars as security. On that I will allow you six per cent. interest."
At this announcement the face of the sick man fell.
"I am very sorry, sir, but I haven't the money. My sickness has reduced me almost to my last dollar."
"Then I can't hire you," said Hamilton Dart, harshly.
"I can give you some excellent references, sir."
"No, I don't care for references. My clerks have to furnish cash security. I employ no others. You had better see if you can't raise the money."
"I don't know how I can do it."
"Haven't you any friends or relatives?"
"I have a sister in Brooklyn. She might possibly loan the amount."
"Then you had better see her. I will keep the place open for you for a couple of days."
The sick man pleaded to be taken on, but Hamilton Dart was obdurate, and at last the visitor left the office.
"Hang the luck; he must take me for a charity association," muttered the swindler. "Two lost! This business isn't paying as well as I hoped it would."
When Nat came back he was somewhat tired from his long tramp. He asked his employer what he should do next.
"Go and get your lunch, and be back in an hour," was the answer.
Hardly had Nat left the office than a young fellow named Harry Bray appeared. He had been in to see Hamilton Dart before and carried a hundred dollars in his vest pocket.
"I will take the position," he said, and handed over his money, which the swindler pocketed with alacrity.
"When shall I go to work?" asked Harry Bray.
"After lunch. You will have another new clerk to help you, a fellow named Nat Nason," answered Hamilton Dart.
When Nat came back from lunch he was introduced to Harry Bray, and Hamilton Dart brought forth several packages of old bills and letters and also a couple of cheap blank books.
"I want these things sorted out," said he. "Enter all names in the books, and file them away according to date."
This seemed easy work, and both of the young clerks said they understood what was wanted. Then Hamilton Dart put on his hat and left the office.
"I won't be back this afternoon," he said. "Lock up at five o'clock, and you, Bray, can take the key."
"Yes, sir," answered Harry Bray.
"This isn't very hard," was Nat's comment, when he was left alone with his fellow clerk.
"It is about as easy a job as I ever struck," answered Harry Bray.
"It's queer there are no customers coming in," said Nat, an hour later. "Mr. Dart must do most of his business outside."
"A good many brokers do, Nat. They have to hustle for business or they don't get any."
The afternoon passed, and at the proper time Nat left the office and went home.
"You've certainly struck a soft snap," said Dick, when the country boy had related his experience. "Wish I could strike a snap like that."
"Perhaps you will some day," answered Nat. "Come, I'll give you a lesson in writing and figures to-night," and he did. Dick was a bright scholar, so it proved a pleasure more than a task to teach him.
Promptly on time the following morning, Nat went to the office. At the door he met Harry Bray, who had just come in from his home on Staten Island. They opened up the office together, one doing the sweeping and the other the dusting.
"In most places like this, the office boy or the janitor does such work," said Harry.
"I don't mind it in the least," answered Nat.
"Oh, neither do I."
They began on their work where they had left off, and about an hour later their employer put in an appearance.
"Hard at it, eh?" he said, cheerily. "That's the way I like to see things move. Nat, I want you to go to the post office again."
"Yes, sir."
In a few minutes our hero had departed, and then Hamilton Dart turned to Harry Bray.
"Bray, here is an important document to deliver to a party living near Central Park," said he. "Deliver it, and get a receipt."
"I will, sir," answered Harry Bray, and in a minute more he, too, was gone.
An hour later there was a knock on the door, and the sick man, who had called the day before, came in.
"Is that situation still open?" he questioned, anxiously.
"Why do you ask?" demanded Hamilton Dart, abruptly.
"I was going to say that I borrowed that money from my sister."
"Oh! Have you it with you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then, if you wish the job, you can take it right now. Another man is coming to see me about it in an hour."
"I'll take the job," said Oliver Ripple, quickly, and brought forth his money. Hamilton Dart took it, and gave his usual receipt.
"What interest do I get on this?" asked the new clerk, anxiously.
"Six per cent."
"Thank you. I told my sister I thought as much. She had the money in the bank, but that only paid her three per cent. Six per cent. will be twice as good."
"You may come to work to-morrow morning at nine," said Hamilton Dart.
"I'll go to work to-day, if you say so, Mr. Dart."
"No, my other clerks can take care of the work to-day. Both of them are now out on errands."
When Oliver Ripple was gone, Hamilton Dart smiled broadly to himself.
"Three of them," he murmured. "That's not so bad, after all. I wonder if that chap who was to come at half-past ten will show up?"
When Nat left the post office he found no letters for Samuel Barrows.
"Mr. Dart will be disappointed again," he thought. "But it is not my fault."
The afternoon passed quietly. Only one man called at the office, and when he found Hamilton Dart was not in he disappeared immediately.
That evening Nat gave Dick another lesson, for which the newsboy was very grateful.
"No wonder you got that job," said Dick. "You can figure like lightning, and write fine, too."
"I don't have to figure much at the office."
"How do you like your boss?"
"I haven't really seen enough of him to make up my mind."
"He must be full of business."
"I suppose that is so."
When Nat went to the office on the following day he again met Harry Bray at the entrance. They went upstairs together, and found two men standing in the hallway, near the door of the office. As soon as they entered the place the men followed them.
"Neither of these young chaps is the man," said one of the newcomers, in a low voice.
"Where is Mr. Hamilton Dart?" asked the other.
"I can't say, sir," answered Harry Bray. "He may be here shortly."
"Are you a partner in this concern?"
"No, sir. I am a clerk."
"Are you a clerk, too?" asked the man, turning to Nat.
"Yes, sir. Is there anything we can do for you?"
"Don't know as there is, young man," was the short answer. "We'll wait here for Mr. Dart."
A half-hour passed and Oliver Ripple put in an appearance.
"Where is Mr. Dart?" he asked, gazing around.
"He is not here yet," answered Nat.
"I am his new clerk. He engaged me yesterday, and told me to come to work this morning."
At this speech the two men who had come in gazed at the sick man curiously.
"So you were engaged yesterday?" asked one in a low tone.
"Yes."
"Excuse me, but I'd like to know if you put up any money as security?"
"I did—a hundred dollars."
"Ah!" And each of the two men looked at his companion significantly.
"Do you know Mr. Dart?" asked the sick man.
"We know of him."
"He does quite a business, doesn't he?"
"He does—in his own way," was the suggestive answer.
At that moment came a tramping on the stairs. Then the office door was thrown open, and Hamilton Dart appeared.
"There he is!" cried one of the men. "Just as I thought!"
He started for the doorway, but Hamilton Dart was too quick for him. He backed away, leaped for the stairs, and went down flight after flight, four and five steps at a time. Both men gave chase, but by the time they reached the sidewalk the swindler had disappeared.
"Hullo! what can this mean?" cried Nat, in quick alarm. "I must say I don't like this."
"Those men are after Mr. Dart," came from Harry Bray.
"You mind the office—I'll see what is up," went on Nat, and followed down the stairs.
"He is gone, Parsons," said one of the men.
"You are sure it was our man?"
"Yes, confound the luck. He got away like a slippery eel."
"Did Mr. Dart run away from you?" asked Nat.
"That's what he did, young man."
"What did he run for?"
"Perhaps you know as well as I do."
"No, I don't."
"How long have you worked for that man?"
"Only a few days."
"What about that other chap upstairs?"
"He came to work about the time I did."
"And that pale-looking man, too?"
"I don't know any more about him than you do."
"Did you place any money in your employer's hands?"
"Yes, a hundred dollars. And Harry Bray, the other clerk, put up the same amount."
"Humph! I reckon you've seen the last of your cash."
"What!" cried Nat, aghast. "Do you mean that?"
"I sure do."
"But—but——" Our hero was so staggered he could not continue for the moment.
"This Hamilton Dart—or whatever he calls himself—is a first-class swindler."
"A swindler!" Nat fell up against the doorway. "I—I—then my money is gone?"
"More than likely."
"Oh, what a fool I've been! And I thought he was such a gentleman."
"He has fooled lots of folks besides you, young man," said one of the men, kindly, for he saw that Nat was hard hit.
"He isn't a business man at all?"
"He is a confidence man from Chicago."
By this time, feeling certain something was wrong, Harry Bray and Oliver Ripple came below.
"What do you mean by confidence man?" asked Nat, doubtfully.
"He is a swindler; one of the kind that can tell a good story in order to get your money."
"Who is a swindler?" demanded Harry Bray.
"Our employer," cried Nat. "He has run away with our money."
"Has Mr. Dart run away?" asked the sick man, nervously.
"Yes."
"Oh! And to think I borrowed that money from my poor sister!" came with a cry of anguish, and then the sick man sank on the hallway stairs, thoroughly overcome.
"How is it that you know so much about this man?" asked Nat, after he had collected his thoughts.
"I am a police official from Chicago," answered one of the two men who had tried to catch Hamilton Dart. "We have been on this rascal's trail for some time."
"Is Hamilton Dart his real name?"
"No; his real name is Nick Smithers. He is a sly rogue."
"Do you think there is any chance of catching him?" asked Harry Bray. "I cannot afford to lose my money."
"Nor I," added our hero.
"I must have my money back!" groaned the sick man. "What will my sister say? She got it out of the bank only yesterday!"
"I wish I could help you," said the Chicago police official. "We'll do what we can."
All went back to the office, and the janitor of the building was called in.
"Sure, an' Mr. Dart has had the office only about a week," said the janitor. "He hasn't paid the rent yet. He said he was in the habit of payin' in the middle of the month."
"Then the owner of this building is out of pocket, too," said one of the men from the West.
An examination was made of the desk used by the swindler, but nothing of value was found. The letters and bills were of no consequence, and the blank books were not worth twenty-five cents each.
"Let us go to the police station," said the men, and they went off, followed by the sick man.
"This is the worst yet," remarked Nat, as he dropped into the one easy chair of which the office boasted. "And I thought I was so smart. I'm a regular greeny, if ever there was one!" And he shook his head bitterly.
"I'm in the same boat," responded his fellow victim. "My father will be pretty mad when he hears of this. He lent me the money, and I assured him it would be perfectly safe."
"I used my own money, but it was almost the last dollar I had," said our hero, soberly. At that moment his heart felt like a lump of lead in his bosom.
"What do you suppose we can do about it?"
"I'm sure I don't know."
"Do you know where this Hamilton Dart, alias Nick Smithers, lived?"
"No."
"To look for him in a big city like this will be like looking for a needle in a haystack."
"More than likely he won't stay in this city. He may be miles away already. He didn't want to see those men from Chicago."
They talked the matter over for an hour, at the end of which time a detective from headquarters came to interview them. The detective took charge of the office, and that seemed to be the end of the affair.
"Give me your addresses," said the detective to Nat and his fellow clerk. "If we hear anything we will let you know," and so it was arranged.
Nat felt very much downcast when he arrived at his boarding house that evening. Mrs. Talcott was not long in noticing it.
"You seem to be in trouble, Nat," said she kindly, for she had taken quite a fancy to the country lad. "Can I help you in any way?"
"I don't know," he answered, bluntly. "I've gone and made a big fool of myself."
"In what way?" asked she in astonishment.
"I thought I was smart, but I'm a regular country greeny. I let a man swindle me out of nearly every dollar I possessed."
"That is certainly too bad, Nat. How did it happen?"
For answer our hero made a clean breast of the whole matter. While he was telling his tale, Dick came in, and he was likewise told.
"And you mean to say that you lost the whole hundred dollars!" ejaculated the newsboy. "That's awful, Nat!"
"I wish I could get hold of that Nick Smithers. I'd—I'd wring his neck for him!"
"It won't do any good to look for him. I know his kind. He's here to-day and gone to-morrow. Those chaps work their schemes all over the States."
Nat was in no humor to eat supper, and scarcely touched a mouthful. Mrs. Talcott and Dick did all they could to cheer him up.
"Make the best of it," said the newsboy. "You'll be sure to strike something good sooner or later."
"I guess I'm too much of a greeny to do that," answered Nat.
That night when our hero went to bed he could not sleep. His ready money was running low, and how to turn he did not know. Bitterly he upbraided himself for having trusted Nick Smithers, but this did no good. His money was gone, and it was doubtful if he would ever see a cent of it again.
"I ought to go back on the farm where I belong," he muttered. "I'm not smart enough to get along in a city like New York."
But by morning his thoughts took a turn, and at breakfast his eyes were as bright and expectant as ever.
"I'm going out and get something to do," he said firmly. "And I'm not going to let anybody get the best of me again."
"Do not worry," said Mrs. Talcott. "You can stay here, even if you don't get anything right away. I'll trust you for the board."
"You are very kind," answered Nat, gratefully. "But I can't stand it to do nothing."
All of that day he tramped up one street and down another looking for a situation, but without success.
He could have had one job as an errand boy, but the wages offered were but two dollars per week.
"I can't take that," he said. "I've got to support myself even if I can't do better."
On the next day it rained, but he went out, nevertheless, with an umbrella which Mrs. Talcott loaned him.
He had several advertisements, taken from the morning papers, and lost no time in applying at first one place and then another.
The third place offered on his list was in a big office building down near the corner of Broadway and Park Row. When Nat arrived there he found half a dozen young fellows ahead of him.
"You will all have to wait until Mr. Garwell arrives," said a clerk to the crowd. "I expect him any moment."
"Hope he don't keep us too long," grumbled one of those who were waiting. "I don't want to lose the chance of another job if I can't get this."
"You need not wait at all if you don't care to," said the clerk.
Two others came in, and the outer office was comfortably filled, when a stout gentleman walked in quickly, and gave a glance around.
"Hum!" said he, when his eyes fell upon Nat, and he looked at our hero more closely. Nat at once recognized the newcomer as the gentleman he had met on the Brooklyn Bridge.
"How are you, young man," said the gentleman.
"Very well, sir," answered Nat.
"What are you doing here?"
"I came to see about the position that was advertised."
"Ah, indeed!" The gentleman gave Nat another look. "Come inside."
"Yes, sir," and our hero quickly followed him to an inner office. Here the gentleman hung up his hat, and sank down in an easy chair at a desk. "Take a seat. I suppose you remember meeting me?" This was said with a little smile.
"Oh, yes, sir; on the bridge."
"You did me a good turn, and I've not forgotten it. So you want a job, eh? What's your name, and where are you from?"
Nat told him, and also told the gentleman some of his experiences since arriving in the metropolis. John Garwell listened with interest.
"I fancy I can give you an opening," said he. "Here, write a few lines on this sheet of paper." Nat did so. "A very good hand. How much do you want to start on?"
"Enough to support myself, Mr. Garwell."
"That's a fair answer. Can you live on seven dollars a week?"
"I can live on less than that."
"Some young men want a fortune to start on. Yesterday a young man called here for an opening. He had had no experience, yet he wanted not less than twenty dollars a week."
"I guess you didn't engage him," said Nat, with a smile.
"I did not. Well, I'll give you a trial, at seven dollars a week. If you prove satisfactory I'll give you eight dollars at the end of three months, and ten dollars at the end of the first year."
"Thank you, very much."
"You can go to work at once." Mr. Garwell touched a push-button on his desk, and a clerk appeared. "Wilson, this is the new clerk, Nat Nason. You can show him his duties. And tell those others that are waiting that the position is filled."
"Yes, sir."
"Wait a minute, Nason. Wilson, you can go."
The clerk disappeared, closing the door behind him.
"I just wished to say a word about what you did for me the other day."
"Oh, that's all right."
"Here is a five-dollar bill for a reward."
"But I don't want any reward, Mr. Garwell. It was nice of you to give me the position."
"Didn't you just own up that you were short of funds?"
"Yes, sir, but——"
"That's all right. Take the money. And now let me tell you something as a friend."
"Yes, sir."
"I like my clerks to look neat and clean at all times. It pays to look that way. Never come down to the office with a dirty collar, or with dirty shoes."
"I'll remember that."
"I don't ask you to dress in the topmost style, or be a dude. But keep yourself neat and clean."
"I will, sir."
"Then that is all. If anything doesn't go right in the office don't hesitate to let me know."
It was with a light heart that Nat went to work for Mr. John Garwell. He felt that his employer was a man to be trusted, and one who would do the best he could for those under him.
"It was a lucky thing for me that I took that walk on the Brooklyn Bridge," he reasoned. "Perhaps I shouldn't have gotten the job otherwise."
The clerk, Wilson, proved kind and considerate, and under him our hero learned rapidly.
"Didn't I tell you that you'd strike luck," said Dick. "Now, all you've got to do is to nurse that job carefully, and you'll be at the top of the firm some day."
"Well, I am going to nurse it as carefully as I can," laughed Nat.
When our hero had time he went to the police headquarters to see if anything had been learned of Nick Smithers.
"Nothing yet," said the officer in charge. "But I think he'll be run down sooner or later."
"I'd like to run him down myself."
"I've no doubt you would."
Nat had been working for Mr. Garwell about a week when he received another letter from Sam Price. Sam wrote, in part, as follows: