the steamer was now ready to sail, and robert went ashore with a number of others who had come aboard to see their friends off.

just as he left the gang-plank a belated passenger came rushing on the ship. it was the man who purchased frederic vernon's ticket at the cut-rate office.

it must be confessed that robert was much downcast as he walked slowly away from the dock. here he was in liverpool without a shilling in his pocket, and the mission he had undertaken for mrs. vernon had proved a miserable failure.

"i was a chump not to watch vernon more closely," he muttered to himself. "i might have known that he was just waiting to get the best of me."

presently the idea struck him that frederic vernon might be watching the steamer to learn whether or not his victim would come ashore or set sail in the ship.

"i'll see if he is anywhere around," he thought, and set out on the hunt without delay.

the docks were piled high with merchandise of all sorts, and thus afforded numerous hiding places.

robert made his way from one corner to another, until he reached a tall pile of lumber. on the top of this were seated half a dozen boys and a young man.

the latter individual was frederic vernon, who had returned to the dock to do just as our hero had suspected.

vernon saw robert at the same instant that the boy spotted him, and before our hero could reach the place he leaped from the lumber pile and started on a dead run for the street beyond the dock.

"hi, stop!" cried robert, giving chase. "stop the thief!"

the boys and a number of others took up the cry, and in a few minutes fully a score of people were following frederic vernon.

down one street and up another went the crowd, vernon keeping fully a square ahead of them. robert was nearest to him, and presently saw the rascal dart into an alleyway. when our hero reached the alleyway vernon was out of sight.

robert and the crowd searched the alleyway from end to end, but without success. vernon had slipped all of his pursuers, and had hired a cab to take him to another part of the city.

the rascal remained in hiding at an obscure boarding house for nearly a week, and then took passage for boston, satisfied that since robert had not sailed for australia, it would be worse than useless for him to appeal again to his aunt.

after the chase was over robert found himself tired out and as hungry as a bear. moreover his head, which the ship's doctor had patched up with court-plaster, hurt him not a little.

"another failure," he muttered disconsolately. "did ever a fellow have such a run of bad luck before!"

had vernon not been a close relative of the lady who employed him, robert would have put the case in the hands of the liverpool police, and got them to telegraph to mrs. vernon for him for aid. but this he knew would not suit the lady at all.

"i must find some means of getting back to chishing without the aid of the police," he told himself. "perhaps i'll run across somebody i know."

he scanned every face he met, but for several hours was unsuccessful. at last he met a farmer he had seen on the river thames several times. farmer goodall had come to liverpool to see his son off, who was bound for america. father and son had just separated when our hero ran across the former.

"how do you do, mr. goodall," said robert, extending his hand. "i trust you remember me."

"indeed i do, mr. frost," answered the farmer, as he shook hands. "what brings you here? are you going back home?"

"not yet. i came on a little business for mrs. vernon. you know i am her private secretary."

"so they told me in the village, sir."

"i was just looking for somebody i might know," went on the youth. "i've got myself into trouble."

"indeed, and how is that?"

"i've been robbed of my watch, my scarfpin and my money."

"gracious me! is it possible, mr. frost? it must have been a bold thief that could do that."

"he caught me in an out-of-the-way spot and hit me over the head." robert showed the plastered cut. "i just wish i could get hold of him."

"i've no doubt of that, sir. so he stole your pocketbook, eh? then perhaps you are out of money."

"i am, and i was just looking for somebody who would advance me enough with which to get my dinner and a railway ticket to chishing. of course as soon as i get back mrs. vernon will, i am certain, make good the amount."

"then in that case i'll advance what you need," answered farmer goodall. "but i am going back myself, and perhaps we can travel together, if you don't mind."

"not at all."

"i generally travel second-class, but if you----"

"second class will suit me well enough, mr. goodall. in america, you know, we have no classes at all, although in the south we have coaches for white folks, and coaches--we call them cars--for colored people."

"so i've heard. i suppose my son john will see many strange sights when he gets to new york. i've just been seeing him off."

"he will, for new york is somewhat different from any city you have over here. is he going to remain in new york?"

"no, he's going to chicago first, and then to what they call the west. i don't know much about it, but i hope the buffaloes and indians don't kill him, that's all. come on and have something to eat."

"i don't believe the buffaloes and indians will trouble him," said robert, as they moved toward an eating house. "there are very few buffaloes left, and none around the cities and towns, and as for the indians they are quite peaceful now and live on the reservations the government has allotted them."

"it must be a great country. i wanted to go there when i was a young man, but my wife objected. she didn't want to take the long voyage over the ocean."

"that i presume was before we had the swift ocean steamers."

"yes. those that went over took the sailing vessels, and the trip lasted about a couple of months or so."

they entered a modest but respectable eating house, and here farmer goodall ordered a substantial dinner for two. he looked curiously at robert when the youth turned down his glass.

"what, lad, won't have a bit of ale with your eating?" he queried.

"no, mr. goodall, thank you just the same. i never drink."

"don't like to mix good ale with your eating?"

"i never drink at all."

the farmer dropped his knife and fork in sheer amazement.

"so you are temperance. well, well! you americans are queer folks, i must allow."

"all our folks are not temperance, i can assure you of that," laughed robert. "some of them drink far more than is good for them."

"i've been used to my ale from childhood; i couldn't get along without it," answered the farmer, and then fell to eating, and robert did the same.

the dinner finished, the two walked around to the railway station, and learned that they could get a train for chishing in an hour and a half.

"i guess i had better spend the time in looking around for that thief," said robert.

"shall i go along?"

"if you wish to do so, mr. goodall."

"yes, since i haven't anything else to occupy the wait with," answered the farmer.

but the hunt amounted to nothing, and ten minutes before train time the two reached the station again.

promptly on time the train rolled in, and robert and his friend entered one of the second-class coaches.

luckily they were the only passengers, so to the boy it was quite like riding in a special car.

had he had the money he would have purchased some books and newspapers with which to while away the time, but he did not care to make any further calls upon the farmer's generosity, so contented himself with gazing at the scenery along the road and in talking with his companion.

it was long after nightfall when they reached chishing.

"you can settle up with me to-morrow," said farmer goodall. "i want to get home now and tell dora how john got away," and so they separated.

it must be admitted that robert's heart was heavy when he walked to the cabe boarding house.

"i've made a bad mess of it," he told himself. "perhaps mrs. vernon will not like it at all. who knows but what she may discharge me for what has happened."