mr. ackerman was as good as his word, for within half an hour he presented himself at the hotel where he found mr. tolman, mr. donovan and steve awaiting him in their pleasant upstairs room. as he joined them his eye traveled inquiringly from one to another of the group and lingered with curiosity on the face of the detective. the next instant he was holding out his hand to stephen.

"well, my boy, i am glad to see you again," said he, a ring of heartiness in his voice.

"and i am glad to see you, too, mr. ackerman," steve replied, returning the hand-clasp with fervor. "this is my father, sir; and this"—for a second he hesitated, then continued, "is our friend, mr. donovan."

with cordiality the new yorker acknowledged the introductions.

"mr. donovan," explained mr. tolman, scanning mr. ackerman's countenance with a keen, half-quizzical expression, "is from headquarters."

the steamboat magnate started and shot a quick glance at those present. it was plain he was disconcerted and uncertain as to how to proceed.

mr. donovan, however, came to his rescue, stepping tactfully into the breach:

"i was not needed for anything but to supply your address, sir; but i was able to do that, so between us all we have contrived to return your pocketbook to you as good as before it left your possession."

as he spoke mr. tolman drew forth the missing bill book and held it toward its owner.

"that looks pretty good to me!" mr. ackerman exclaimed, as he took the article from mr. tolman's outstretched hand and regarded it reflectively. "i don't know when i have ever done anything so careless and stupid. you see i had got part way to the bank before i remembered that i had left my glasses, on which i am absolutely dependent, at home. therefore, there being no taxi in sight, i hailed a passing bus and climbed up beside this youngster. how the bill book happened to slip out of my pocket i cannot explain. it seemed to me it would be safer to have the securities upon my person than in a bag that might be snatched from me; but apparently my logic was at fault. i was, however, so certain of my wisdom that i never thought to question it until i had reached the sidewalk and the bus had gone.

"your boy, mr. tolman, confided while we rode along this morning that he was visiting in new york for a few days; but of course i did not ask his name or address and so when i wanted his help in tracing the missing pocketbook i had no way of

locating him beyond assuming that he must be staying at one of the hotels. therefore when the omnibus company could furnish no clue, i got into touch with an agency whose business it is to hunt people up. if the pocketbook had been dropped on the bus i felt sure your boy, who was almost the only other person on top of the coach, would know about it; if, on the other hand, it had been dropped in the street, my problem would be a different one. in either case the sooner i knew my course of action the better. i hope you will believe, mr. tolman, that when i called in the aid of detectives i had no suspicions against your son's honesty."

mr. tolman waved the final remark aside good-humoredly.

"we have not taken the affair as a personal matter at all," he declared. "we fully appreciate your difficulty in finding stephen, for he was also up against the problem of finding you. new york is a rather large city anyway, and for two people who do not even know one another's names to get together is like hunting a needle in a haystack. our only recourse to discovering the owner of the pocketbook would be through the advertising columns of the papers and that is the method we should have followed had not donovan appeared and saved us the trouble."

he exchanged a smile with the detective.

"the advertising column was my one hope," mr. ackerman replied. "i felt sure that any honest person who picked up the purse would advertise it.

it was not the honest people i was worrying about. it was the thought that i had dropped the bill book in the street where any tom-dick-and-harry could run away with it that concerned me. moreover, even if your boy had found it on the bus, he might have turned it in to an employee of the coach line who was not honest enough to give it in turn to his superiors. so i wanted to know where i stood; and now that i do i cannot tell you how grateful i am both to stephen and to this officer here for the service they have rendered me." then, turning toward mr. tolman, he added in an undertone, "i hope neither you nor your son have suffered any annoyance through this unfortunate incident."

"not in the least," was the prompt response. "i confess we were a trifle disconcerted at first; but mr. donovan has performed his duty with such courtesy that we entertain toward him nothing but gratitude."

"i am glad of that," mr. ackerman replied, "for i should deeply regret placing either you or your boy, even for a moment, in an uncomfortable position, or one where it might appear that i—"

but mr. tolman cut him short.

"you took the quickest, most sensible course, ackerman," said he. "too much was at stake for you to risk delay. when a pocketbook filled with negotiable securities disappears one must of necessity act with speed. neither stephen nor i cherish the least ill-will about the affair; do we, son?"

"no, indeed."

then smiling ingenuously up into the face of the new york man, he said:

"don't you want to look in your pocketbook and see if everything is all right, sir?"

the steamboat financier laughed.

"you are a prudent young man," declared he. "no, i am quite willing to risk that the property you have so kindly guarded is intact."

"it ought to be," the boy said. "i haven't even opened the pocketbook."

"a better proof still that everything is safe within it," chuckled mr. ackerman. "no, sonny, i am not worrying. i should not worry even if you had ransacked the bill book from one end to the other. i'd take a chance on the honesty of a boy like you."

mr. tolman, however, who had been listening, now came forward and broke into the conversation:

"stephen's suggestion is a good, businesslike one, ackerman," he declared. "as a mere matter of form—not as a slam against our morals—i am sure that both he and i would prefer that you examined your property while we are all here together and assure yourself that it is all right."

"pooh! pooh! nonsense!" objected the financier.

"it is a wise notion, mr. ackerman," rejoined mr. donovan. "business is business. none of us questions the honor of mr. tolman or his son. they know that. nevertheless i am sure we should

all feel better satisfied if you went through the formality of an investigation."

"very well, just as you say. but i want it understood that i do it at their and your request. i am perfectly satisfied to leave things as they are."

taking the now familiar red pocketbook from his coat he opened it unconcernedly; then the three persons watching him saw a look of consternation banish the smile from his face.

"what's wrong, ackerman?" inquired the plain-clothes man quickly.

without a word the other held the bill book toward him. it was empty. bonds, securities, money were gone! a gasp of incredulity came from stephen.

"i didn't open it—truly i didn't!" exclaimed he, in a terror-stricken voice.

but mr. ackerman did not heed the remark.

"i am afraid this looks pretty black for us, ackerman," said mr. tolman slowly. "we have nothing to give you but the boy's word."

mr. donovan, however, who had been studying the group with a hawklike scrutiny now sprang to his feet and caught up his hat.

"i don't see how they dared put it over!" he exclaimed excitedly. "but they almost got away with it. even i was fooled."

"you don't mean to insinuate," mr. tolman burst out, "that you think we—"

"good heavens, no!" replied the detective with his hand on the door knob. "don't go getting hot

under the collar, mr. tolman. nobody is slamming you. i have been pretty stupid about this affair, i'm afraid; but give me credit for recognizing honest people when i see them. no, somebody has tricked you—tricked you all. but the game isn't up yet. if you gentlemen will just wait here—"

the sentence was cut short by the banging of the door. the detective was gone. his departure was followed by an awkward silence.

mr. ackerman's face clouded into a frown of disappointment and anxiety; mr. tolman paced the floor and puffed viciously at a cigar; and steve, his heart cold within him, looked from one to the other, chagrin, mortification and terror in his eyes.

"i didn't open the pocketbook, mr. ackerman," he reiterated for the twentieth time. "i truly didn't."

but the steamboat magnate was too deeply absorbed in his own thoughts and speculations to notice the high-pitched voice with its intonation of distress.

at last mr. tolman could endure the situation no longer.

"this is a most unfortunate happening, ackerman," he burst out. "i am more concerned about it than i can express. my boy and i are utter strangers to you and we have no way of proving our honesty. all i can say is that we are as much amazed at the turn affairs have taken as yourself, and we regret it with quite as much poignancy—perhaps

more since it reflects directly upon us. if there is anything we can do—"

he stopped, awaiting a reply from the other man, but none came.

"good heavens, ackerman," he cried. "you don't mean to say you do not believe my son and me—that you suspect us of double-dealing!"

"i don't know what to believe, tolman," owned mr. ackerman with candor. "i want very much to credit your story; in my heart, i do credit it. but head and heart seem to be at variance in this matter. frankly i am puzzled to know where the contents of that pocketbook have gone. were the things taken out before the bill book fell into your son's hands or afterward? and if afterward, who took them? who had the chance? donovan seems to think he has a clue, but i confess i have none."

"hadn't you looked over the bonds and stuff since you took them home?"

"no," mr. ackerman admitted. "i got them from the broker yesterday and as it was too late to put them into the safe-deposit vault, i took them home with me instead of putting them in our office safe as i should have done. i thought it would be easier for me to stop at the bank with them this morning on my way to business. it was foolish planning but i aimed to save time."

"so the pocketbook was at your house over night?"

mr. ackerman nodded.

"yes," confessed he. "nevertheless it did not

go out of my possession. i had it in the inner pocket of my coat all the time."

"you are sure no one took the things out while you were asleep last night?"

"why—i—i don't see how they could," faltered mr. ackerman. "my servants are honest—at least, they always have been. i have had them for years. moreover, none of them knew i had valuable papers about me. how could they?" was the reply.

once more silence fell upon the room.

"come, tolman," ejaculated the steamboat man presently, "you are a level-headed person. what is your theory?"

"if i did not know my son and myself as well as i do," mr. tolman answered with deliberation, "my theory would be precisely what i fancy yours is. i should reason that during the interval between the finding of the purse and its return the contents had been extracted."

he saw the new yorker color.

"that, i admit, is my logical theory," mr. ackerman owned with a blush, "but it is not my intuitive one. my brain tells me one thing and my heart another; and in spite of the fact that the arguments of my brain seem correct i find myself believing my heart and in consequence cherishing a groundless faith in you and your boy," concluded he, with a faint smile.

"that is certainly generous of you, ackerman!" mr. tolman returned, much moved by the other's

confidence. "stephen and i are in a very compromising situation with nothing but your belief between us and a great deal of unpleasantness. we appreciate your attitude of mind more than we can express. the only other explanation i can offer, and in the face of the difficulties it would involve it hardly seems a possible one, is that while the coat was hanging in the lobby—"

there was a sound outside and a sharp knock at the door, and an instant later mr. donovan entered, his face wreathed in smiles. following him was the woman who had checked the coats, a much frightened bell boy, and a blue-uniformed policeman.

the woman was sobbing.

"indeed, sir," she wailed, approaching steve, "i never meant to keep the pocketbook and make trouble for you. i have a boy of my own at home, a lad about your age. what is to become of him now? oh, dear; oh, dear!"

she burst into passionate weeping.

"now see here, my good woman, stop all this crying and talk quietly," cut in the policeman in a curt but not unkind tone. "if you will tell us the truth, perhaps we can help you. in any case we must know exactly what happened."

"she must understand that anything she says can be used against her," cautioned the detective, who in spite of his eagerness to solve the mystery was determined the culprit should have fair play.

"indeed, i don't care, sir," protested the maid,

wiping her eyes on her ridiculously small apron. "i can't be any worse off than i am now with a policeman taking me to the lock-up. i'll tell the gentlemen the truth, i swear i will."

with a courtesy he habitually displayed toward all womanhood mr. tolman drew forward a chair and she sank gratefully into it.

"i spied the bill book in the young gentleman's pocket the minute he took off his coat," began she in a low tone. "it was bright colored and as it was sticking part way out i couldn't help seeing it. of course, i expected he would take it with him into the dining room but when he didn't i came to the conclusion that there couldn't be anything of value in it. but by and by i had more coats to hang up and one of them, a big, heavy, fur-lined one, brushed against the young gentleman's ulster and knocked the pocketbook out on to the floor so that it lay open under the coat rack. it was then that i saw it was stuffed full of papers and things."

she stopped a moment to catch her breath and then went resolutely on:

"it seemed to me it was no sort of a plan to put the wallet back into the lad's pocket, for when i wasn't looking somebody might take it. so i decided i much better keep it safe for him, and maybe," she owned with a blush, "get a good-sized tip for doing it. i have a big pocket in my underskirt where i carry my own money and i slipped it right in there, meaning to hand it to the young man when he came out from lunch."

the corners of her mouth twitched and her tears began to fall again, but she wiped them away with her apron and proceeded steadily:

"but nothing turned out as i planned, for no sooner was the bill book in my pocket than i was called away to help about the wraps at a lady's luncheon upstairs. there were so many people about the hall that i had no chance to restore the bill book to the lad's pocket without some one seeing me and thinking, perhaps, that i was stealing. there was no help but to take it with me, trusting they would not keep me long upstairs and that i would get back to my regular place before the young gentleman came out of the dining room. it was when i got out of the elevator in the upper hall that i spied dick, one of the bell boys i knew, and i called to him; and after explaining that i couldn't get away to go downstairs i asked him to take the wallet and put it in 47's pocket. he's a good-natured little chap and always ready to do an errand, and more than that he's an honest boy. so i felt quite safe and went to work, supposing the young man had his pocketbook long ago."

all eyes were turned upon the unlucky bell boy who hung his head and colored uncomfortably.

"so it was the boy who took the contents of the pocketbook!" was mr. ackerman's comment.

"speak up, boy," commanded the officer. "the gentleman is talking to you." the lad looked up with a frightened start.

he might have been sixteen years of age but he

did not look it for he was pale and underfed; nor was there anything in his bearing to indicate the poise and maturity of one who was master of the occasion. on the contrary, he was simply a boy who was frankly distressed and frightened, and as unfeignedly helpless in the present emergency as if he had been six years old and been caught stealing jam from the pantry shelf. it did not take more than a glance to convince the onlookers that he was no hardened criminal. if he had done wrong it had been the result either of impulse or mischief, and the dire result of his deed was a thing he had been too unsophisticated to foresee. the plight in which he now found himself plainly amazed and overwhelmed him and he looked pleadingly at his captors.

"well, my boy, what have you to say for yourself?" repeated mr. ackerman more gently.

"nothin'."

"nothing?"

"no, sir."

"you did take the things out of the pocketbook then."

"yes, sir."

"but you are not a boy accustomed to taking what does not belong to you."

the culprit shot a glance of gratitude toward the speaker but made no reply.

"how did you happen to do it this time?" persisted mr. ackerman kindly. "come, tell me all about it."

perhaps it was the ring of sympathy in the elder man's voice that won the boy's heart. whatever the charm, it conquered; and he met the eyes that scanned his countenance with a timid smile.

"i wanted to see what was in the pocketbook," said he with naïve honesty, "and so i took the things out to look at them. i wasn't goin' to keep 'em. i dodged into one of the little alcoves in the hall and had just pulled the papers out when i heard somebody comin'. so i crammed the whole wad of stuff into my pocket, waiting for a time when i could look it over and put it back. but i got held up just like mrs. nolan did," he pointed toward the woman in the chair. "some man was sick and the clerk sent me to get a bottle of medicine the minute i got downstairs, and all i had the chance to do was to stick the empty wallet in 47's pocket and beat it for the drug store. i thought there would be letters or something among the papers that would give the name of the man they belonged to, and i'd take 'em to the clerk at the desk an' say i found 'em. but no sooner had i got the medicine up to room number 792 than the policeman nabbed me with the papers an' things on me. that's all there is to it, sir."

"have you the things now?" the officer put in quickly.

"sure! didn't i just tell you i hadn't had the chance to hand 'em over to the clerk," the boy reiterated, pulling a wad of crumpled liberty

bonds and documents out of his pocket, and tumbling them upon the table.

there was no doubting the lad's story. truth spoke in every line of his face and in the frankness with which he met the scrutiny of those who listened to him. if one had questioned his uprightness the facts bore out his statements, for once out of the hotel on an errand he might easily have taken to his heels and never returned; or he might have disposed of his booty during his absence. but he had done neither. he had gone to the drug store and come back with every intention of making restitution for the result of his curiosity. that was perfectly evident.

"i'm sorry, sir," he declared, when no one spoke. "i know i shouldn't have looked in the pocketbook or touched the papers; but i meant no harm—honest i didn't."

"i'll be bound of that, sir," the woman interrupted. "dick was ever a lad to be trusted. the hotel people will tell you that. he's been here several years and there's never been a thing against him. i blame myself for getting him into this trouble, for without meaning to i put temptation in his way. i know that what he's told you is the living truth, and i pray you'll try and believe him and let him go. if harm was to come to the lad through me i'd never forgive myself. let the boy go free and put the blame on me, if you must arrest somebody. i'm older and it doesn't so much matter; but it's terrible to start a child of his age

in as a criminal. the name will follow him through life. he'll never get rid of it and have a fair chance. punish me but let the little chap go, i beg of you," pleaded the woman, with streaming eyes.

mr. ackerman cleared his throat; it was plain that the simple eloquence of the request had touched him deeply.

"with your permission, officer, i am going to withdraw my charge," he said, with a tremor in his voice. "you are to let both these persons go scot free. you, my good woman, meant well but acted foolishly. as for the boy, donovan, i will assume the responsibility for him."

"you are willing to stand behind him, mr. ackerman?"

"i am."

the detective turned toward the boy who had risen and was fumbling awkwardly with the brass buttons adorning his uniform.

"you hear, dick martin, what the gentleman says," began he impressively. "he believes you are a good boy, and as you have handed back the valuables in your possession he is going to take a chance on you and let you go."

a wave of crimson swept over the face of the boy and for the first time the tension in the youthful countenance relaxed.

"but mr. ackerman," donovan continued, "expects you are going to behave yourself in future and never do such a thing again."

"i am going to see your father, dick," broke in mr. ackerman's kindly voice, "and talk with him and—"

"i haven't any father," declared the lad.

"your mother then."

"i've no mother either."

"who do you live with?"

"mr. aronson."

"is he a relative?"

"oh, no, sir! i haven't any relatives. there's nobody belongin' to me. mr. aronson is the tailor downstairs where i sleep. when i ain't working here i do errands for him and he lets me have a cot in a room with four other boys—newsboys, bell hops and the like. we pay two dollars between us for the room and sometimes when i carry a lot of boxes round for mr. aronson he gives me my breakfast."

"nobody else is responsible for you?"

"nop!" returned the boy with emphasis. "no, sir, i mean."

"i'll attend to all this, donovan," murmured mr. ackerman in an undertone to the detective. "the lad shall not remain there. i don't know yet just what i'll do with him but i will plan something." then addressing the lad, he continued, "in the meantime, dick, you are to consider me your relative. later i shall hunt you up and we will get better acquainted. be a good boy, for i expect some day you are going to make me very proud of you."

"what!"

in sheer astonishment the boy regarded his benefactor.

there was something very appealing in the little sharp-featured face which had now lost much of its pallor and softened into friendliness.

"why shouldn't you make me proud of you?" inquired mr. ackerman softly. "you can, you know, if you do what is right."

"i'm goin' to try to, sir," burst out dick with earnestness. "i'm goin' to try to with all my might."

"that is all any one can ask of you, sonny," replied the steamboat magnate. "come, shake hands. remember, i believe in you, and shall trust you to live up to your word. the officer is going to let you go and none of us is going to mention what has happened. i will fix up everything for you and mrs. nolan so you can both go back to your work without interference. now bid mr. tolman and his son good-by and run along. before i leave the hotel i will look you up and you can give me mr. aronson's address."

master richard martin needed no second bidding. eager to be gone he awkwardly put out his hand, first to mr. tolman and then to steve; and afterward, with a shy smile to the detective and the policeman and a boyish duck of his head, he shot into the hall and they heard him rushing pell-mell down the corridor. mrs. nolan, however, was more self-controlled. she curtsied elaborately

to each of the men and called down upon their heads every blessing that the sky could rain, and it was only after her breath had become quite exhausted that she consented to retire from the room and in company with the policeman and the detective proceeded downstairs in the elevator.

"well, tolman," began the new yorker when they were at last alone, "you see my heart was my best pilot. i put faith in it and it led me aright. unfortunately it is now too late for the matinee but may i not renew my invitation and ask you and your son to dine with me this evening and conclude our eventful day by going to the theater afterward?"

mr. tolman hesitated.

"don't refuse," pleaded the steamboat man. "our acquaintance has, i confess, had an unfortunate beginning; but a bad beginning makes for a good ending, they say, and i feel sure the old adage will prove true in our case. accept my invitation and let us try it out."

"you are very kind," murmured mr. tolman vaguely, "but i—"

"help me to persuade your father to be generous, stephen," interposed mr. ackerman. "we must not let a miserable affair like this break up what might, perhaps, have been a delightful friendship."

"i don't need any further persuading, ackerman," mr. tolman spoke quickly. "i accept your invitation with great pleasure."

"that's right!" cried mr. ackerman, with evident

gratification. "suppose you come to my house at seven o'clock if that will be convenient for you. we will have a pleasant evening together and forget lost pocketbooks, detectives and policemen."

taking out a small card, he hurriedly scrawled an address upon it.

"i keep a sort of bachelor's hall out on riverside drive," explained he, with a shade of wistfulness. "my butler looks out for me and sees that i do not starve to death. he and his son are really excellent housekeepers and make me very comfortable." he slipped into his overcoat. "at seven, then," he repeated. "don't fail me for i should be much disappointed. good-by!" and with a wave of his hand he departed, leaving stephen and his father to themselves.

chapter x

an evening of adventure

that evening steve and his father took a taxi-cab and drove to the number mr. ackerman had given them. it proved to be an imposing apartment house of cream brick overlooking the hudson; and the view from the fifth floor, where their host lived, was such a fascinating one that the boy could hardly be persuaded to leave the bay window that fronted the shifting panorama before him.

"so you like my moving picture, do you, steve?" inquired the new yorker merrily.

"it is great! if i lived here i shouldn't do a bit of studying," was the lad's answer.

"you think the influence of the place bad, then."

"it would be for me," stephen chuckled.

both mr. tolman and mr. ackerman laughed.

"i will own," the latter confessed, "that at first those front windows demoralized me not a little. they had the same lure for me as they have for you. but by and by i gained the strength of mind to turn my back and let the hudson river traffic look out for itself."

"you might try that remedy, son," suggested steve's father.

"no, no, tolman! let the boy alone. if he is enjoying the ferries and steamboats so much the better."

"but there seem to be plenty of steamboats here in the room to enjoy," was mr. tolman's quick retort.

"steamboats?" repeated steve vaguely, turning and looking about him.

sure enough, there were steamboats galore! wherever he looked he saw them. not only were the walls covered with pictures of every imaginable type of steamer, but wherever there was space enough there were tiers of little ship models in glass cases. there were side-wheelers, awkwardly constructed boats with sprawling paddles, screw propellers, and twin-screw craft; ferryboats, tugs, steam yachts, and ocean liners. every known variety of sea-going contrivance was represented. the large room was like a museum of ships and the boy gave an involuntary exclamation of delight.

"jove!"

it was a laconic tribute to the marvels about him but it was uttered with so much vehemence that there was no mistaking its sincerity. evidently, terse as it was, its ring of fervor satisfied mr. ackerman for he smiled to himself.

"i never saw so many boats in all my life!" burst out steve.

"i told you i was in the steamboat business," put in mr. ackerman mischievously.

"i should think you were!" was the lad's comment.

"this is a wonderful collection, ackerman," mr. tolman asserted, as he rose and began to walk about the room. "how did you ever get it together? many of these prints are priceless."

"oh, i have been years doing it," mr. ackerman said. "it has been my hobby. i have chosen to sink my money in these toys instead of in an abandoned farm or antique furniture. it is just a matter of taste, you see."

"you must have done some scouring of the country to make your collection so complete. i don't see how you ever succeeded in finding these old pictures and models. it is a genuine history lesson."

"i do not deserve all the credit, by any means," the capitalist protested with modesty. "my grandfather, who was one of the owners of the first of the hudson river steamers, began collecting pictures and drawings; and at his death they came to my father who added to them. afterward, when the collection descended to me, i tried to fill in the gaps in order to make the sequence complete. of course in many cases i have not been able to find what i wanted, for neither prints nor models of some of the ships i desired were to be had. either there were no copies of them in existence, or if there were no money could tempt their owners to part with them. still i have a well enough graded lot to show the progression."

"i should think you had!" said mr. tolman heartily. "you have arranged them beautifully, too, from the old whalers and early american coasting ships to the clippers. then come the first steam packets, i see, and then the development of the steamboat through its successive steps up to our present-day floating palace. it tells its own story, doesn't it?"

"in certain fashion, yes," mr. ackerman agreed. "but the real romance of it will never be fully told, i suppose. what an era of progress through which to have lived!"

"and shared in, as your family evidently did," interposed mr. tolman quickly.

his host nodded.

"yes," he answered, "i am quite proud to think that both my father and my grandfather had their humble part in the story."

"and well you may be. they were makers of history."

both men were silent an instant, each occupied with his own thoughts.

mr. tolman moved reflectively toward the mantelpiece before which steve was standing, gazing intently at a significant quartette of tiny models under glass. first came a ship of graceful outline, having a miniature figurehead of an angel at its prow and every sail set. beside this was an ungainly side-wheeler with scarce a line of beauty to commend it. next in order came an exquisite, up-to-date ocean liner; and the last in the group

was a modern battleship with guns, wireless, and every detail cunningly reproduced.

stephen stood speechless before them.

"what are you thinking of, son?" his father asked.

"why, i—" the boy hesitated.

"come, tell us! i'd like to know, too," echoed mr. ackerman.

"why, to be honest i was wondering how you happened to pick these particular four for your mantel," replied the lad with confusion.

the steamboat man smiled kindly.

"you think there are handsomer boats in the room than these, do you?"

"certainly there are better looking steamships than this one," steve returned, pointing with a shrug of his shoulders at the clumsy side-wheeler.

"but that rather ugly craft is the most important one of the lot, my boy," mr. tolman declared.

"i suppose that is true," mr. ackerman agreed. "the fate of all the others hung on that ship."

"why?" was the boy's prompt question.

"oh, it is much too long a yarn to tell you now," laughed his host. "were we to begin that tale we should not get to the theater to-night, say nothing of having any dinner."

"i'd like to hear the story," persisted stephen.

"you will be reading it from a book some day."

"i'd rather hear you tell it."

"if that isn't a spontaneous compliment, ackerman, i don't know what is," laughed mr. tolman.

the steamboat man did not reply but he could not quite disguise his pleasure, although he said a bit gruffly:

"we shall have to leave the story and go to the show to-night. i've bought the tickets and there is no escape," added he humorously. "but perhaps before you leave new york there will be some other chance for me to spin my yarn for you, and put your father's railroad romances entirely in the shade."

the butler announced dinner and they passed into the dining room.

if, however, stephen thought that he was now to leave ships behind him he was mistaken, for the dining room proved to be quite as much of a museum as the library had been. against the dull blue paper hung pictures of racing yachts, early american fighting ships, and nautical encounters on the high seas. the house was a veritable wonderland, and so distracted was the lad that he could scarcely eat.

"come, come, son," objected mr. tolman at last, "you will not be ready in time to go to any show unless you turn your attention to your dinner."

"that's right," mr. ackerman said. "fall to and eat your roast beef. we are none too early as it is."

accordingly stephen fixed his eyes on his plate with resolution and tried his best to think no more of his alluring surroundings. with the coming of

the ice-cream he had almost forgotten there were such things as ships, and when he rose from the table he found himself quite as eager to set forth to the theater as any other healthy-minded lad of his age would have been.

the "show" mr. ackerman had selected had been chosen with much care and was one any boy would have delighted to see. the great stage had, for the time being, been transformed to a western prairie and across it came a group of canvas-covered wagons, or prairie schooners, such as were used in the early days by the first settlers of the west. women and children were huddled beneath the arched canopy of coarse cloth and inside this shelter they passed the weary days and nights of travel. through sun and storm the wagons rumbled on; jogging across the rough, uncharted country and jolting over rocks, sagebrush, and sand. there were streams to ford, mountains to climb on the long trip westward, but undaunted by obstacles the heroic little band of settlers who had with such determination left kin and comfort behind them passed on to that new land toward which their faces were set.

it was such a company as this that stephen now saw pictured before him. perched on the front seat of the wagon driving the horses was the father of the family, rugged, alert, and of the woodsman type characteristic of the new england pioneer. the cavalcade halted. a fire was built and the travelers cooked their supper. across the valley

one could see the fading sunset deepen into twilight. from a little stream near-by the men brought water for the tired horses. then the women and children clambered into the "ship of the desert" and prepared for a night's rest.

in the meantime the men lingered about the dying fire and one of them, a gun in his hand, paced back and forth as if on guard. then suddenly he turned excitedly to his comrades with his finger on his lips. he had heard a sound, the sound they all dreaded,—the cry of an indian.

presently over the crest of the hill came stealing a stealthy band of savages. on they came, crouching against the rocks and moving forward with the lithe, gliding motion of serpents. the men sank down behind the brush, weapons in hand, and waited. on came the bloodthirsty indians. then, just when the destruction of the travelers seemed certain, onto the stage galloped a company of cowboys. immediately there was a flashing of rifles and a din of battle. first it seemed as if the heroic rescuers would surely be slaughtered. but they fought bravely and soon the indians were either killed or captured. amid the confusion the owners of the prairie schooners leaped to the seats of their wagons, lashed forward their tired horses, and disappeared in safety with the terrified women and children.

it was not until the curtain fell upon this thrilling adventure that stephen sank back into his chair and drew a long breath.

"some show, eh, son?" said mr. tolman, as they put on their overcoats to leave the theater after the three long acts were over.

the boy looked up, his eyes wide with excitement.

"i should say!" he managed to gasp.

"did you like it, sonny?" mr. ackerman inquired.

"you bet i did!"

"think you would have preferred to cross the continent by wagon rather than by train?"

steve hesitated.

"i guess a train would have been good enough for me," he replied. "was it really as bad as that before the railroads were built?"

"quite as bad, i'm afraid," was his father's answer. "sometimes it was even worse, for the unfortunate settlers did not always contrive to escape. it took courage to be a pioneer and travel the country in those days. undoubtedly there was much romance in the adventure but hand in hand with it went no little peril and discomfort. we owe a great deal to the men who settled the west; and, i sometimes think, even more to the dauntless women."

stephen did not reply. very quietly he walked down the aisle between his father and mr. ackerman, and when he gave his hand to the latter and said good-night he was still thoughtful. it was evident that the scenes he had witnessed had made a profound impression on him and that he was still

immersed in the atmosphere of prairie schooners, lurking indians, and desert hold-ups. even when he reached the hotel he was too tense and broad awake to go to bed.

"i wish you'd tell me, dad, how the first railroad across the country was built," he said. "i don't see how any track was ever laid through such a wilderness. didn't the indians attack the workmen? i should think they would have."

his father placed a hand kindly on his shoulder.

"to-morrow we'll talk trans-continental railroads, son, if by that time you still wish to," said he. "but to-night we'll go to bed and think no more about them. i am tired and am sure you must be."

"i'm not!" was the prompt retort.

"i rather fancy you will discover you are after you have undressed," smiled his father. "at any rate we'll have to call off railroading for to-night, for if you are not sleepy, i am."

"but you won't have time to tell me anything to-morrow," grumbled steve, rising unwillingly from his chair. "you will be busy and forget all about it and—"

"i have nothing to do until eleven o'clock," interrupted mr. tolman, "when i have a business meeting to attend. up to that time i shall be free. and as for forgetting it—well, you might possibly remind me if the promise passes out of my mind."

in spite of himself the boy grinned.

"you can bank on my reminding you all right!" he said, yawning.

"very well. then it is a bargain. you do the reminding and i will do the story-telling. are you satisfied and ready to go to bed and to sleep now?"

"i guess so, yes."

"good-night then."

"good-night, dad. i—i've had a bully day."