“Less than half a day in New York and robbed! Oh, what a greeny I have been!”

Thus Jerry groaned to himself as he searched first one pocket and then another. It was all to no purpose, the money was gone and he was left absolutely penniless.

The young oarsman was certain that Mr. Wakefield Smith had robbed him. He had been wary of the man from the start, and now blamed himself greatly for having given the rascal the chance to take the pocket-book.

Without loss of time Jerry darted into the crowd again, looking in every direction for the thief. He was so eager, he ran plump into an old gentleman, knocking his silk hat to the pavement.

“Hi! hi! stop, you young rascal!” puffed the man, as Jerry stooped and restored the tile to him. “What do you mean by running into me in this fashion?”

“Excuse me, but I have been robbed! I want to catch the thief.”

“Robbed?”

“Yes, sir.”

The gentleman nervously felt to see if his money and watch were safe. Several others heard the words, and they gathered around Jerry.

“Who robbed you?”

“How much did you have?”

“Why didn’t you hold the thief?”

Before Jerry could answer any of the questions a policeman came forward and touched him on the shoulder.

“Are you the boy said he was robbed?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What were you robbed of?”

“A pocket-book containing nearly thirty dollars.”

“Did you see the thief?”

“I believe it was a man I was walking with. He called himself Wakefield Smith.”

The policeman questioned Jerry closely, and then took a good look around for the individual. Later on, boy and officer walked to Mrs. Price’s boarding-house.

Here it was learned that Mr. Wakefield Smith had not paid any board money, giving as an excuse that he had nothing less than a one-hundred-dollar bill and that he would pay in the morning. It also came to light that he had walked out with Mrs. Price’s silver-handled umbrella, worth eight dollars.

“The villain!” she cried. “I hope the police catch him!”

“You don’t wish it more than I do,” returned the young oarsman, dolefully. “He took my last dollar.”

Acting on the policeman’s advice, Jerry walked around to the nearest precinct station and made a complaint, giving the best description of Mr. Wakefield Smith he could.

“We will do our best to capture him,” said the captain in charge, and with this promise the youth had to be content.

My readers can imagine our hero did not spend a restful night. He lay awake for several hours speculating on the turn affairs had taken. His board was paid for a week, but that was all. He did not even have money to pay car fare back to Lakeview.

“I wonder what mother and father would say if they knew?” he thought. “I won’t let them know until there’s nothing else to do.”

Jerry arose early the next day and got breakfast before any of the other boarders.

“I must find something to do without delay,” he explained to Mrs. Price. “A fellow without a dollar in his pocket can’t afford to remain idle.”

“You have a week’s board coming to you,” she said, with a faint smile.

“Yes, but I haven’t even the price of a car fare in my pocket.”

“Well, Mr. Upton, I like your looks, and if you’ll accept it I’ll loan you a couple of dollars. I suppose it was partly my fault that Smith robbed you. But don’t blame me, I’ve suffered, too.”

“I will accept the loan gladly, Mrs. Price. I don’t like to go around without a cent. I will pay you back as soon as I can.”

“I know you will. I may have been deceived in that Smith, but I am certain I am not in you,” added the landlady.

With the two dollars tucked away in a safe place, Jerry left the house. He knew it would be useless to go to Alexander Slocum’s office at such an early hour, and determined to look around in the hope of striking something whereby he might earn at least enough money to last him while stopping in New York.

“I won’t write home unless I have to,” he muttered to himself. “My time is my own and I’ll make the most of it while I’m here.”

Getting one of the dollar bills changed, Jerry bought a morning paper and looked over the Help Wanted—Males—column, and noted several addresses.

“I’ll try them and lose no time,” he thought, and hurried to the nearest store where a boy was wanted.

He was surprised to find a dozen applicants ahead of him. Worse than that, a boy had already been hired; so all of the others were forced to leave.

Jerry next tried a florist’s establishment. But here a boy was wanted who understood the city thoroughly, and he was quickly told he would not do.

Jerry walked from one place to another for three hours without success. Somewhat disheartened, he strolled into a park close to Broadway and sat down.

The situation was certainly a serious one, and the young oarsman was decidedly sober in mind as he sat there, staring vacantly at the hurrying throng.

“Well, young man, how did you make out last night?”

The question came from a bench just behind Jerry. Looking around, he saw sitting there the gentleman he had run into while trying to find Wakefield Smith.

“I didn’t make out at all, sir.”

“Couldn’t find him, eh?”

“No, sir.”

“Those pickpockets are slick chaps, and no mistake,” went on the gentleman.

“Did you lose much?”

“All I had—nearly thirty dollars.”

“Phew! that is too bad. Well, I wouldn’t sit down to mope about it. You might as well get to work and earn the amount over again.”

“The trouble is, I can’t find any work,” answered the boy, earnestly. “I would work fast enough if I could only find it to do.”

“You are out of a situation?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Since when?”

“Since I came to New York,” answered Jerry.

“You are about as bad off as I was some forty years ago,” said the man, with a broad smile. “At that time I found myself in this city, with just twenty-five cents in my pocket. But I struck employment, and rose from one place to another until now I am my own master, with a book-binding-shop where I employ nearly fifty hands.”

As he spoke he gazed at Jerry curiously.

“You were going to ask me for a job, weren’t you?” he went on, and Jerry nodded. “What can you do?”

“I’m not used to any such work, sir. But you’ll find me willing and strong—and honest. I would like to earn a little before I went back to my home.”

“Well, those three qualities you mention are sure to win, my boy. Perhaps I can find an opening for you. Here comes a friend I have been waiting for. I am going out of town with him. Call at my shop to-morrow morning, if you don’t strike anything in the meantime.”

And, handing out his card, Mr. Islen walked rapidly away.

Fifteen minutes later found Jerry on the way to Alexander Slocum’s office. In an inner pocket he carried the papers his father had unearthed from the trunk in the garret at home.