A BRAVE YOUTH'S REWARD.
A cheer arose from the by-standers.
"Good for the boy!"
"That's what I call a genuine hero!"
"He deserves a medal."
Paying no attention to what was said, Hal assisted the elderly gentleman
to his feet.
"Are you hurt, sir?" he asked kindly.
"I--I think not," was the labored reply. "That was a narrow escape,
young man." The last with a gasp.
"You are right, sir. How did you happen to go down?"
"The snow made a slippery spot on the ice, I believe. My wind is almost
gone."
"Wait till I brush you off," said Hal, and taking off his cap he
commenced to strike off the snow and dirt from the gentleman's clothing.
"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.
He turned from Broadway through Grand Street and presently found himself
well over on the east side.
"Good Beds for 25 Cents per Night."
This was the announcement on a banner strung over the sidewalk, and
after reading it, Hal glanced at the building.
It was rather a dingy affair, but to the youth direct from the Fairham
poor-house it appeared quite comfortable. He entered the office, and
approached the clerk at the desk.
"I would like a room for to-night," he said.
"A room or a bed?" asked the clerk.
"I mean a twenty-five cent place."
"Oh, all right. Pay in advance."
Hal handed out a quarter. Then he was conducted to a long, narrow
apartment on the third floor. There were eight beds in the room, six of
which were already occupied.
To a person used to good accommodations this apartment would have almost
disgusted him. But quarters at the poor-house had been but little
better, and Hal did not complain. He managed to get a bed in one corner,
and, as the window was slightly open, he slept very well.
He was up and dressed at six o'clock and out on the street. The snow was
now all of a foot deep, and Hal was much interested in the snow-plows on
the car tracks.
As he passed down the street a snow-ball whizzed past the youth's ear.
Another followed, striking him in the head. He turned, and saw a boy
slightly taller than himself standing close at hand and laughing
heartily.
Instead of getting angry, Hal laughed in return. Then he picked up some
snow, made it into a hard ball, and let fly.
The snow-ball took the other boy in the chest, and in his effort to
dodge he went over head first into a drift near the gutter. Hal burst
out laughing, and then ran back and helped the stranger up.
"Say, wot did yer do dat fer?" demanded the other boy, as soon as he was
once more on his feet.
"Tit for tat, you know," returned Hal. "I guess you're not hurt, are
you?"
The stranger stared at Hal. He had never met with such a kindly answer
before.
"Hurt! o' course I ain't hurt," he returned, slowly.
"You threw at me first, didn't you?"
"Wot if I did?"
"Nothing, only that's why I threw back."
The stranger stared at Hal for a moment.
"Who are you?" he asked, abruptly.
"My name is Hal Carson. What's yours?"
"Jack McCabe."
Hal held out his hand.
"I'm glad to know you. I just came to New York, and I only know one
person here."
"Git out! is dat so?" Jack McCabe shook hands rather gingerly. "Den yer
ain't one o' der boys, is yer?"
"What boys?"
"Der fellers around town."
"Hardly."
"Got work here?"
"I expect to get work from a man in Wall Street."
"Goin' ter be a broker, hey?" grinned Jack.
"Here, get to work there, you lazy dog!" shouted a man from the inside
of a near-by store, and Jack dropped his conversation and began to clean
off the sidewalk with vigor.
Hal walked on. He did not know under what exciting circumstances he was
to meet Jack McCabe again.
Promptly at ten o'clock Hal presented himself at the number given him on
Wall Street. The sign over the door read Sumner, Allen & Co., Brokers.
He opened the door and entered. There was a small place in the front
partitioned from the rear office by a counter and a brass grating.
A man sat writing at a desk in the rear. He glanced at Hal, and seeing
it was only a boy, went on with his work.
Five minutes passed. Then the man swung around leisurely, got down from
his stool, and came forward.
As soon as Hal caught sight of the man's face he was astonished.
It was Hardwick, the fellow whose conversation he had overheard on the
ferry boat the evening before.