pated.

"I declare," he said; "I believe I haven't any money with me."

"Then get off."

"Couldn't you let me off this time?" asked Martin, insinuatingly; "I'm a
poor man."

"So am I," said the conductor, bluntly. "You must get off."

"Isn't there any gentleman that'll lend a poor man six cents?" asked
Martin, looking round.

But nobody seemed disposed to volunteer assistance, and Martin was
compelled reluctantly to jump off.

But he didn't give up yet. The car didn't go so fast but that he could
keep up with it by running. It chafed him that Rufus should get the
better of him, and he ran along on the sidewalk, keeping the car
continually in sight.

"He's running," said Miss Manning, looking out. "What a determined man
he is! I'm afraid he'll find us out."

"I'm not afraid," said Rufus. "He'll get tired of running by the time we
get to Central Park."

"Shall you ride as far as that?"

"If necessary."

For about a mile Martin held out, but by this time he became exhausted,
and dropped behind. The distance between him and the car gradually
increased, but still Rufus rode on for half a mile further. By this time
Martin was no longer in sight.

"We'll cross over to Sixth Avenue," he said, "so that Martin may not see
us on our return."

This suggestion was adopted, luckily, for Martin had posted himself at a
favorable place, and was scanning attentively every returning car. But
he waited and watched in vain till long after the objects of his pursuit
were safe at home and in bed.

CHAPTER XII.

MARTIN'S LUCK TURNS.

Martin continued to watch for an hour or two, sitting in a door-way. At
length he was forced to conclude that Rufus had given him the slip, and
this tended by no means to sweeten his temper. In fact, his position was
not altogether a pleasant one. It was now past midnight, and, having no
money, he saw no other way than to spend the night in the street.
Besides he was hungry, and that was a complaint which was likely to get
worse instead of better. As for Rufus, Martin had never before seen him
so well dressed, and it seemed clear that he was prospering.

"He's an ungrateful young rascal," muttered Martin,--"livin' in ease and
comfort, while I am left to starve in the street!"

It would have been rather hard to tell what Rufus had to be grateful
for, unless for the privilege which he had enjoyed for some time of
helping support his step-father; but Martin persuaded himself that he