The Missing Tin Box: or, The Stolen Railroad Bonds

"Oh, never mind that," was the comment. "Come along with me. I don't like crowds."

The gentleman caught the youth by the arm, and walked him toward Broadway.

"You did me a great service," he went on, as the two stood on the corner, opposite the post-office.

"I didn't do much," replied Hal, modestly.

"Don't you call saving my life much?" asked the man, with a smile.

"Oh, I don't mean that, sir. But any one would have done what I did."

"I'm not so sure about that. In New York it is every one for himself. What is your name?"

"Hal Carson."

"You live here, I suppose?"

"No, sir."

"Where then, if I may ask?"

"I just came to New York not over half an hour ago. I intend to stay here."

The elderly gentleman looked puzzled.

"I don't quite understand you," he said.

"I came from a small place in Pennsylvania, sir, and I intend to try my luck here."

"Ah! Are you alone?"

"Yes, sir."

"Any friends here?"

"No, sir."

"Yes, you have."

"I have?"

"Yes – myself." The elderly gentleman laughed at his little joke. "No one shall say he saved my life and I didn't appreciate it. So your name is Hal Carson. Parents living?"

"I don't know, sir." Hal blushed in spite of himself. "I was brought up at the poor-house."

"Humph! Well, you are a manly looking chap and a brave one. Have you any idea where you are going to obtain employment?"

"No, sir. I intend to hunt around until I strike something."

"You'll find that rather up-hill work, I fancy."

"I didn't expect any snap, Mr. – "

"My name is Horace Sumner. I am a broker, and have an office on Wall Street, near Broad. I am just returning from a visit to my sister, who lives in Morristown. Have you any sort of an education?"

"I can read and write, and figure pretty well, and I've read all the books I could get hold of."

"The reason I ask is because I think I may be able to help you to obtain employment. I won't offer you money as a reward – I don't believe in such things."

"I would not accept your money. But I would like work."

Horace Sumner meditated for a moment.

"Supposing you stop at my office to-morrow morning," he said.

"I will, sir. What time?"

"Ten o'clock."

"And what number, please?"

"Here is my card." Horace Sumner handed it to him. "Do you know where you are going to stop over night?"

"I shall hunt up some cheap hotel."

Mr. Sumner was about to say something to the effect that Hal could accompany him to his house and sleep in one of the rooms over the barn, but he changed his mind.

"Let the boy hoe his own row. It will do him good," he thought to himself.

Horace Sumner was a self-made man, and he knew that self reliance is one of the best traits a boy can cultivate.

"I am going over to the Third Avenue elevated now," he said. "Remember, I expect to see you at ten sharp."

"I will be on hand, sir," returned Hal.

"Then good-night."

"Good-night, Mr. Sumner, and much obliged."

Hal watched the gentleman cross City Hall Park, and then started up Broadway.

The brilliant holiday display in the show windows charmed him, and he spent fully two hours in looking at all that was to be seen.

"Who knows but what I may go to work to-morrow, and then I won't get much chance to look around," he reasoned to himself.

He was accustomed to work at the poor-house from six in the morning until eight or nine at night, and he did not know but what he would have to do more in such a bustling city as New York.

By ten o'clock Hal found himself tired out. The snow was now six inches deep and was still coming down.