outh.

"Please describe that tramp to me, will you?" asked Jerry, and the
tinner's boy did so, as well as he was able.

"I think da call him Crazy Jim," he concluded. "He don't come down here
very often. He belongs uptown somewhere."

"Well, if you ever see him again, please let me know. My name is Jerry
Upton, and here is my address," and our hero handed it over.

"All right, I will. My name is Jerry Martin. Wot was in de package?"

"Some papers belonging to my father."

The boy wanted to question Jerry for further particulars, but the young
oarsman did not care to say too much, and hurried off, to seek the tramp
again.

That evening found our hero at Mrs. Price's, footsore and downhearted. He
had seen nothing of Crazy Jim, and it looked as if the precious packet was
gone for good.

Jerry could not help but wonder what Alexander Slocum's next move would
be. Would the man endeavor to hunt him out or would he write to his
father?

The next morning, on his way to Mr. Randolph Islen's place of business,
Jerry met Nellie Ardell.

"Did you find Mr. Slocum's?" she asked.

"I did; and had a very disagreeable visit," returned our hero.

"I knew you would have," she went on. "I wish he was not my landlord."

Jerry asked her how Tommy was, and then they parted, and five minutes more
brought our hero to the book-bindery.

Mr. Islen was not yet in, but he soon arrived, and smiled as Jerry
presented himself.

"On hand, I see, my young friend. Well, how did you make out? Did you
obtain a position?"

"No, sir."

"It's rather hard. Mr. Grice!" he called out.

The foreman of the book-bindery came in and Jerry was introduced to him.
Quite a chat followed, at the end of which Jerry was hired to work in the
stock department at a salary of six dollars a week.

The salary was not large, but it would pay his expenses, and that was all
he wished for at present.

"I won't have to write home for money," he thought.

Mr. Grice wanted Jerry to come to work immediately, but our hero begged to
speak to Mr. Islen in private for a moment, and when they were left alone
told his story from beginning to end.

The rich book-binder listened with interest, and tapped meditatively upon
his desk when Jerry had finished.

"This is rather a strange story, Upton," he said. "What would you like me
to do?"

"I would like you to give me some advice, sir. What had I best do?"

"You can do a number of things. What would be the best I