tom gordon was not only brave, but he was modest; and he hurried away from the swarming crowd as soon as he was free of the ferry-boat, for he found it anything but pleasant to be looked upon and treated as a lion. turning off into one of the intersecting streets, the two lads walked along in silence, when tom said,--

"do you know, jim, i'm half-frozen?"

the rattling teeth emphasized the question.

"i should think you would be. here's a place of some kind; let's go in and have something to eat, and you can warm yourself."

jim led the way; and as he pushed open the green-baize doors, which worked on springs, he saw they had entered one of those nondescript shops, so numerous in certain parts of new york, where a person can obtain any kind of alcoholic drink, a cigar, a lunch, a "square meal," or a night's lodging, or all.

jim recognized the resort, and he would have withdrawn but through sympathy for his shivering companion. the latter could scarcely stand from cold, his clothing was soaked, and, in the keen air, had congealed so that it rattled like tarpauling as he walked.

just back from the door was a large stove, whose bulging, white-washed cylinder, gleamed red with heat.

tom immediately stepped up to this and began to thaw himself out.

"ah, that feels nice!" he laughed to his companion.

"well, young man, what do you want in here?" asked the bartender, in a sharp, business-like style, bustling from behind the counter with the evident intention of "bouncing" the lads.

"i want to get dry and warm," was the reply of tom, from whose clothing the steam was beginning to ascend.

"this ain't a shop to dry out boys. why don't you go home?"

"we haven't any home."

"that's played; go where you stayed last night."

"that's near a hundred miles from here."

two or three loungers laughed at the rather pert style in which tom made his replies, though in truth the lad meant no disrespect. the bartender turned red in the face, and was angered at being taken up as he was.

"hello, my wharf-rat, how did you get so wet?"

"in the water."

"he jumped off the ferry-boat to save a little girl," said jim, seeing the storm brewing, and desirous of putting in a good word for his friend.

this declaration was received with a guffaw, not one of the hearers believing a word of it.

"jumped off to get away from the bobbies," sneered the bartender. "if you don't get out of here quicker'n lightning i'll hand you over to them."

"we can go out if you say so," said tom, in the same good-natured manner; "but we came in to get our supper and stay all night."

"have you got the stamps to pay for it?"

"if we hadn't we'd know better than to come in here."

"all right; my terms are a half a dollar apiece for supper and lodging."

"what is it with breakfast?"

"seventy-five cents."

"we might as well pay you now."

and in his off-hand fashion tom drew from his water-soaked pocket his portemonnaie, remarking to jim that they would arrange it between themselves, and handed the exact change to the somewhat surprised bartender and clerk.

that made a difference; and the servant became as obsequious as if he had just recognized in his visitor a millionaire that had dropped in to spend a part of his fortune with him.

the boys were hungry, as may be supposed, and they fell to eating like a couple of famished wanderers. only a mouthful or two was swallowed when jim exclaimed,--

"hello, tom; where did you get that gold chain?"

"what are you talking about?" demanded tom, looking up at his friend.

"i'll show you;" and, as jim spoke, he reached over and unhooked a tiny gold chain from the upper button of his friend's coat, around which it was twined in a singular manner.

more than that, there was a locket attached to it.

"that's the strangest thing i ever heard tell of," said tom, as he examined the chain and locket. "i never knew it was there till you spoke."

"you must have got it from that girl in the water, when you helped her out."

"that's so! wait here till i come back!" and with this exclamation the lad sprang up and darted outdoors.

he was gone but a short time, when he returned.

"i've been down to the ferry-house to see whether i could find the woman and give her back her jewelry; but nobody there knows anything about her, and i'll have to keep it till i learn who she is."

on looking at the locket the boys agreed that it was the likeness of the girl that had so narrowly escaped drowning. they admired it a long time, after which tom carefully put it away, and they finished their supper.

the supper finished, the boys sat in the hot room until tom's clothing was fully dried, during which process the two were urged to drink fully a score of times, tom being assured by several that the only way to escape a dangerous cold was to swallow a good supply of gin.

like sensible lads they steadfastly refused, as they had never tasted spirituous liquors, and never intended to.

finally, at a late hour, they retired to their humble room, where they were speedily asleep.

on the morrow it was agreed that they would make this place their headquarters, while they looked up something to do. they could separate and spend the day in the search, and return to their lodging-house after dark, both having fixed the location in their minds, and there being little excuse for losing their way, even in such a vast city.

breakfast was eaten early, and the friends separated, not expecting to see each other till dusk again. both were in high spirits, for in the clear sunshine of the winter's morning the world looked bright and radiant to them. the hurry and rush of broadway, the crowds constantly surging forward, each one seemingly intent on his own business, the constant roll and rumble of trade,--all so different from the more sedate city they had left behind.

all these were so new and novel to the lads, threading their way through the great metropolis, that they forgot their real business for a time, and feasted their eyes and ears for hours.

finally, they roused themselves and went to work. the experience of the two, for a time at least, was very similar. tom first stopped in a dry-goods house, and asked whether they could give him anything to do. a short "no" was the reply, and the proprietor instantly turned his back upon him. then he tried a drug-store, where he was treated in the same manner. in a hat and cap store, the rotund clerk tried to chaff him, but he didn't make much of a success of it. in answer to his question, the clerk replied that he didn't need a boy just then, but when he did he would send his carriage around to the metropolitan for him.

when tom timidly introduced his errand to an old gentleman in spectacles, as he sat at his desk in a large shipping-office, the old fellow exclaimed in an awed voice,--

"great heavens, no! i don't want to hire any boy."

and so it went, hour after hour, until the future, which had looked so beautiful in the morning, gradually became overcast with clouds, and the poor lad was forced to stop and rest from sheer weariness.

he kept it up bravely till night, when he started on his return to his lodgings. he found on inquiry that he was several miles distant, his wanderings having covered more ground than he supposed. he had made over thirty applications, and in no instance had he received one grain of encouragement. in more than one case he had been insulted and ordered from the store, followed by the intimation that he was some runaway or thief.

no wonder that tom felt discouraged and depressed in spirits as he rode homeward in the street-car. he was so wearied that he dropped down in one corner, where he soon fell asleep, not waking until he had gone fully two miles beyond the point where he should have left the vehicle. this sleep so mixed him up that it was nearly ten o'clock when he reached his hotel, as we may call it.

he was hopeful that jim would have a better story to tell; but to his amazement, he found that his friend, despite the lateness of the hour, had not yet come back. a shiver of alarm passed over tom, for he was certain that some dreadful evil had befallen him.

most likely he had been waylaid and killed in some of the hundred different ways which the police reports show are adopted by the assassins of new york in disposing of their victims.