Dean found it to his advantage to have in his company one who was familiar with the city. Together he and Guy boarded a Fourth Avenue car and rode through Fourth Avenue into the Bowery, and later through Center Street.

Guy pointed out prominent buildings as they rode along, among them the Cooper Institute and Tombs Prison. Dean's interest was strongly excited.

"I should think you'd rather live here than go out West," he said.

"I'm sick of civilization," answered Guy rather grandly. "Give me the wild untrammeled life of the plains."

"But I don't see what it's going to lead to," objected Dean. "You can't make money out there."

"I'm not after money; I want glory," answered Guy.

"I prefer money," said Dean, "just at present."

They reached French's hotel, and entered. This was some years since, before the temporary closing of this old established house for travelers.

"You'd better go up to the register and see whether your friend has a room here," suggested Guy.

Dean adopted the suggestion, and looking over the record found this entry:

Peter Kirby, Chicago. Room 197.

"Yes, he's here," he said in a tone of relief. "Is Mr. Kirby at home?" he inquired.

"I will send up and see," said the clerk. "Do you wish to go up at the same time?"

"Yes, sir."

"I'll wait down here," said Guy. "If Mr. Kirby doesn't expect you to room with him, we can take a room together."

"Yes, I should like that."

Dean followed the bell boy upstairs to one of the upper floors. He had never been in a large hotel before, and as saw door after door opening on the corridor he thought the hotel must be one of the largest buildings in New York. In this, of course, he was very much mistaken.

"That's Mr. Kirby's room," said the bellboy, pointing to 197. "Shall I knock, or will you?"

"I'll go in; he expects me," answered Dean; and, with a want of ceremony which was the result of his inexperience, he did not stop to knock, but opened the door.

Sitting at a table was his employer, with a number of bank bills spread out before him, which he appeared to be engaged in counting. Naturally Dean glanced at them, and his surprise was great when he recognized the denomination of the bills.

They were all fifties! What could it mean? Was this man Kirby the one who had robbed his uncle? But his intimate relations with Squire Bates presented another explanation. The bills might have been received from the squire.

Dean's reflections were cut short by his employer.

With a look of alarm and annoyance he swept the bills together, and turning to Dean, said, harshly, "Why did you come in without knocking?"

"Excuse me!" said Dean, in a tone of apology, "I didn't think."

"It was positively rude," said Kirby in an excited tone. "One would know that you had been brought up in the country."

"I haven't been round much," said Dean, "but I hope to improve, especially if I travel about with you."

"There's no harm done," said Peter Kirby, cooling down rapidly, concluding that Dean had seen nothing to excite his suspicions; "but I was a little startled when you opened the door. It's dangerous for a man to be seen with money in a large city like this, for there are plenty of designing persons who might seek to relieve him of it."

"I hope you don't suspect me, Mr. Kirby."

"Certainly not. Well, you left Waterford this morning?"

"Yes, sir."

"Where is your luggage?"

"Here, sir," answered Dean, showing his bundle.

Kirby frowned.

"It will never do to travel with a bundle like that. You must have a valise. I haven't time to go round with you. Do you think you can be trusted to find a place where they are sold?"

"I have a friend who will go with me."

"What friend?" asked Kirby sharply.

"It's a boy I got acquainted with on the train—a boy about my own age, named Guy Gladstone."

"Oh, a boy!" repeated Peter Kirby, evidently relieved.

"He would like to have me occupy a room with him, unless you wish me to be with you."

"I have no objection; but mind, I shan't allow him to join our party and travel with us," said Kirby suspiciously.

"No; he would not care to. He is going out West at once."

"Alone?"

"Yes; he will only stay here one night."

"Here is a five-dollar bill. You can take it and look up a valise. Three or four dollars ought to buy one. A small one will answer, judging from the size of your bundle. I suppose you have had nothing to eat since you left Waterford?"

"No, sir."

"You can go to a restaurant and get some dinner. The other boy will show you where to find one. I am obliged to go out on business. This hotel is on the European system, and doesn't provide regular board."

"Shall I take my bundle with me, sir?"

"Yes; you can transfer the contents to the valise when you have bought one. When you return you can put your name on the hotel book, taking a room with this Guy Gladstone."

"Thank you, sir."

Dean descended to the office and communicated to Guy what his employer had told him.

"I have put my valise in the baggage-room," said Guy, and got a check for it. "I am glad you are going to take a room with me. I wish you would join me altogether."

"Then you'd have to pay expenses for both, as I have no money."

"That would be an objection, as I have only about enough money for my own use."

The two boys went out together, but, both being hungry, decided to postpone purchasing the valise until after dinner. They went into a restaurant on Fulton Street, and ordered a dinner at moderate cost, which they enjoyed with great relish. They were of an age to have a hearty appetite.

"It seems strange to me to be eating here," said Dean. "I never before ate at a hotel or restaurant."

"Your life must have been very quiet," said Guy.

"Yes; but I expect to have some excitement now."

"In what business is your employer?"

"I don't know," answered Dean.

Guy regarded him with surprise.

"You are going to work for him, are you not?"

"Yes."

"And yet you don't know what business he is in?"

"No."

"What are you to do? Have you any idea?"

"I am to be private secretary, or clerk, I believe."

"Are you to get good pay?"

"Twenty-five dollars a month and my board," answered Dean proudly.

Guy looked amazed.

"That's a pretty steep salary to pay a green boy from the country. No offense, Dean. You are green, you know."

"Yes, I know I am, but I don't mean to stay so."

"I don't believe you will. You look as if you'd learn fast."

"I'll try to, at any rate."

After dinner they found a place near the corner of Wall Street and Broadway, where Dean bought a valise of neat appearance and good quality for three dollars. He adopted Mr. Kirby's suggestion, and, opening his bundle, put the contents into his new purchase.

"Now you don't look so countrified," said Guy.

They turned down Wall Street, looking curiously into the windows as they passed. At one—a broker's office—Dean found something to surprise him.

At a large counter stood Mr. Kirby with a roll of bills before him—the same, no doubt, that Dean had seen him counting at the hotel. He appeared to be purchasing government bonds, for a clerk passed him several, and gathered up the bills in exchange.

"What do you see that's so interesting?" asked Guy.

"That man at the counter is my employer."

"Humph! I don't like his looks. He seems to have plenty of money, though."