On the following morning Jerry went to work at the bindery as if nothing had happened. When he went in, Dick Lenning glared at our hero and stopped as if to speak, but changed his mind and walked off without saying a word.

During the day the young oarsman became much better acquainted with his work and began to like it.

That night, on leaving the bindery by the side entrance, which opened on a narrow lane, our hero saw Dick Lenning and several of his friends waiting for him.

He attempted to pass but Lenning put out his foot, and had Jerry not stopped he would have been tripped up.

“Let me pass,” said he, sharply, but instead of complying, Lenning took a stand in front of him and hit the youth on the shoulder.

“I said I’d git square,” he hissed, savagely. “If yer ain’t afraid, stand up and fight.”

“I’m not afraid,” replied Jerry, and pushed him up against the wall.

Without delay a rough-and-tumble fight ensued.

“Give it to him, Dick!”

“Do the hayseed up!”

“Knock him into the middle of next week!”

These and a dozen other cries arose on the air, and the crowd kept increasing until fully a hundred spectators surrounded the pair.

Dick Lenning had caught Jerry unfairly, but the youth soon managed to shake him off, and, hauling back, gave him a clean blow on the end of his unusually long nose, which caused the blood to spurt from that organ in a stream.

“He’s tapped Dick’s nose!”

“My! wasn’t that a blow, though!”

“The country lad is game!”

Wild with rage, Dick Lenning endeavored to close in again. Jerry stopped the movement this time by a blow on the chest which sent him staggering back several feet into the crowd.

“What’s the matter, Dick?”

“Don’t let him use you like that.”

“I’ll fix him!” howled the bully, and rushed at our hero a third time.

Again he hit Jerry, this time in the chin. But our hero’s blood was now up, and, calculating well, he struck a square blow in the left eye that knocked the bully flat.

“Dick is knocked out!”

“That country jay is a corker!”

“Git up, Dick. Yer eye is turnin’ all black!”

“Better let him go, he’s too much for you!”

Dick Lenning was slow in coming to the front. The eye was not only black, but it was closing rapidly.

“He’s got a stone in his fist—he don’t fight fair,” he growled to his friends.

“I have nothing in my fist,” retorted Jerry. “If he wants any more, I fancy I can accommodate him, although I don’t care to fight.”

Dick Lenning was uneasy. He glanced toward his friends and passed a signal to one of his cronies.

“Police! skip!” cried the crony. “Come on, Dick, you don’t want to git caught!”

And he dragged Dick Lenning away, while the crowd scattered like magic. No policeman was in sight, nor did any appear. It was only a ruse to retire without acknowledging defeat.

But that fight taught Dick Lenning a severe lesson. He still remained down upon the young oarsman, but in the future he fought shy of our hero, knowing that Jerry would not stand his bullying manner.

On Saturday the shop closed down early, and, having nothing else to do, Jerry walked down to the newspaper office in hope of receiving some answer to the advertisement for the missing papers.

But no answer was forthcoming, and, disappointed, he retraced his steps and sauntered in the direction in which Nellie Ardell and her little brother Tommy lived.

“I’ll call on them and see how she made out about her rent,” he said to himself, and mounted the stairs to her apartment.

There was a murmur of voices in the kitchen. The door was partly open and Jerry saw the girl and her little brother standing there, confronted by a burly man.

“That rent has got to be paid, that’s all there is to it,” the man was saying.

“I cannot pay to-day,” replied Nellie Ardell. “I will try to pay Monday.”

“It won’t do. I’ve given you notice, and if you can’t pay, you have got to leave.”

At this the girl burst into tears.

“Would you put me on the street?” she wailed.

“I’ll have to—it’s orders,” replied the burly man doggedly.

“Whose order?”

“Mr. Slocum.”

“Mr. Slocum is a very hard-hearted man,” cried the girl, indignantly.

“That’s so,” Jerry put in as he entered.

“Oh, Jerry Upton!” Nellie Ardell cried, when she saw our hero. “This man wants to put me out of my rooms.”

“It’s a shame.”

“Who are you?” demanded the burly man. “Do you live here?”

“No. I am this young lady’s friend, however. Did Mr. Slocum say to put her out?”

“Yes.”

“What shall I do if they put me on the street?” wailed Nellie Ardell.

“I’m sure I don’t know. But Slocum sha’n’t put you on the street if I can help it,” went on Jerry, suddenly.

“What will you do?”

“How much do you owe him?”

“Twelve dollars. I have four, but he won’t take it. He wants the entire amount.”

“I will let you have ten dollars,” said our hero, and brought out the bill Wakefield Smith had dropped.

“Oh, won’t that be robbing you?” cried Nellie Ardell, but her eyes glistened with pleasure.

“Never mind; take it and pay this man off.”

Nellie Ardell accepted the amount without further words.

“Now,” she said, as she paid the man, “I am going to move.”

“Move! What for?”

“I can get better rooms for less money just across the way.”

The burly man’s face fell. He was Alexander Slocum’s agent, and he knew that to get tenants for the rooms Nellie Ardell occupied would be difficult.

“It ain’t right to move now—in the middle of the summer.”

“You intended to put me out—if I couldn’t pay the rent.”

“That is different.”

“I have paid up promptly for many months. Mr. Slocum could have been a bit easier for once.”

“He is more than mean,” put in Jerry. “I would advise you to move by all means.”

“You seem to know a great deal about him,” sneered the agent.

“I do—and I’ll know more some day.”

The agent began to growl, but, seeing he could do nothing, he went off to inform Alexander Slocum that Nellie Ardell intended to move.