Now that the matter had once been talked over, the young oarsman was very anxious to know all about the property in California, and his mother brought forth the deeds and other papers found in the old trunk.

The boy studied the documents with care. He knew but little of the law, yet he felt that if the land mentioned in the papers was valuable his father’s share, as heir to his uncle, must be considerable.

“I would like to ask Mr. Parker about this,” he said to his folks, but Mr. Upton shook his head. He was a very retired man and never brought his affairs to the ears of any outsider.

“The whole thing might prove worthless,” he said, “and then we would be laughed at by our neighbors.”

“I’d risk it,” said Jerry, but his father only shook his head again.

Nevertheless Mr. Upton appeared to be favorably impressed with the idea of Jerry’s going to New York to hunt up Alexander Slocum.

“It won’t do any harm,” he said to his wife. “I have money for the fare in the house, and it will give Jerry a chance to see a bit of the world.”

Mrs. Upton was doubtful, but when Jerry begged to go she finally consented. Long talks about the western land and Alexander Slocum followed, and the youth prevailed upon his folks to let him take the deeds and papers with him, promising that he would take the best of care of them.

“And while I’m in New York I’m going to look around for a situation, and earn a little money,” said Jerry. “Who knows but what I may strike even a better opening than that Mr. Parker has promised me at his shoe factory.”

“It’s not likely a lad off the farm can strike much,” smiled his mother, yet she was pleased at Jerry’s earnestness.

Three days later Jerry was off, valise in hand. He had bid good-bye to Harry and Blumpo, telling them he was going to New York on some private business for his father. His mother saw him to the train and kissed him affectionately.

“Take good care of yourself, Jerry,” she said. “And remember, New York is an entirely different place from Lakeview or Rockpoint, and you must have your eyes and ears open to avoid trouble.”

“I’ll take care of myself, don’t worry mother,” and two minutes later the train came along and he was off.

Yet it must be confessed that our hero felt just a bit strange as he settled back in the cushioned seat, with his valise beside him. He was going over two hundred miles from home and among total strangers.

“I suppose it will be different from knocking around Lakeview, Rockpoint or even Long Lake,” he mused. “I’ll have to brace up and watch myself, or they’ll take me for a regular greeny.”

As the train moved on, Jerry revolved the situation in his mind. He knew he would arrive in the metropolis late in the afternoon, and determined to seek a boarding-house first of all, knowing it would be useless to hunt for any trace of Alexander Slocum after office hours.

At last the run through green fields and small towns and cities came to an end, and the train ran into the Grand Central Depot at Forty-second Street, and Jerry alighted in a crowd and made his way to the street.

“Cab! coupe! This way for the Central Hotel! Evening paper! Sun or World!”

A hundred cries seemed to start up all in an instant, making Jerry’s ears ring. The rattle of the carts and trucks on the pavement was also new, and for the moment, the Lakeview boy did not know which way to turn.

“Carry yer baggage?” queried a bare-foot boy, and almost caught his valise from his hand. But the young oarsman pulled it back and shook his head, and got out of the crowd as quickly as he could, starting eastward, for he had heard that the cheaper boarding houses lay in that direction.

It was not long before the boy came to several places which displayed the sign, Boarding. But the first two were too elegant, and Jerry passed them without stopping. Then came a third, and ascending the steps Jerry rang the bell.

An elderly lady answered the summons, a sharp-faced woman with powdered hair.

“You take boarders here?” queried Jerry.

“We do, young man,” she answered, in a voice that made our hero far from comfortable.

“I expect to stay in New York a week or two, and I—”

“We don’t take transients,” she snapped. “Only regular boarders with first-class references,” and she shut the door in Jerry’s face.

He was glad enough to escape to the pavement, feeling satisfied that he would not have cared to have boarded there, even had she been willing to take him in.

A block further on was another place, a modest brick residence, set back behind a small plot of green. Thinking this looked inviting, and not reasoning that the spot of green was as valuable as a brown-stone building would have been, Jerry entered the garden and made known his wants to the servant who was dusting the piazza chairs.

She called the lady of the house, who on hearing what Jerry had to say, smiled in a motherly way.

“I hardly think I can take you in, my boy,” she said. “Do you know how much I charge a week?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Twelve to fifteen dollars for a single room and not less than ten otherwise.”

Jerry almost gasped for breath.

“That is twice what I can afford to pay,” he returned. “Gracious! I had no idea rates were so high.”

“That is not high, here in New York. But perhaps I can direct you to a place that will suit. I have a friend three blocks over. Here is her card,” and she handed it over.

Thanking her, the young oarsman got out without delay. He was glad she had directed him, for now he was certain he would at least strike a place that would fit his pocket-book.

Jerry went on until he came to an avenue down which the elevated cars were running. They were a great novelty and he paused on the corner to watch several of the trains rattle along overhead.

As Jerry was about to move on, he heard a wild cry of alarm from the second story window of a house opposite. Looking in the direction, he saw a girl pointing up the street to where a baby-carriage had rolled from the pavement to the gutter, overturning itself and spilling a little child into the street.

The youth ran in the direction with the idea of picking the child up. As he did this an ice-wagon came along at a furious speed, the driver on the seat trying in vain to stop his horse.

The ice-wagon was heading directly for the child and unless something was done the little one would be run over and most likely killed. With his heart in his throat our hero threw down his valise and leaped to the rescue. In another instant the runaway horse was fairly on top of the lad.