rdly know what drew this penniless man to the street
through which flows daily a mighty tide of wealth, but I suspect that he
was hoping to meet Rufus, who, as he had learned from Ben Gibson, was
employed somewhere on the street. Rufus might, in spite of the manner in
which he had treated him, prove a truer friend in need than the
worthless companions of his hours of dissipation.

All at once a sharp cry of pain was heard.

A passing vehicle had run over the leg of a boy who had imprudently
tried to cross the street just in front of it. The wheels passed over
the poor boy's legs, both of which appeared to be broken. Of course, as
is always the case under such circumstances, there was a rush to the
spot where the casualty took place, and a throng of men and boys
gathered about the persons who were lifting the boy from the ground.

"The boy seems to be poor," said a humane by-stander; "let us raise a
little fund for his benefit."

A humane suggestion like this is pretty sure to be acted upon by those
whose hearts are made tender by the sight of suffering. So most of those
present drew out their pocket-books, and quite a little sum was placed
in the hands of the original proposer of the contribution.

Among those who had wedged themselves into the crowd was James Martin.
Having nothing to do, he had been eager to have his share in the
excitement. He saw the collection taken up with an envious wish that it
was for his own benefit. Beside him was a banker, who, from a plethoric
pocket-book, had drawn a five-dollar bill, which he had contributed to
the fund. Closing the pocket-book, he carelessly placed it in an outside
pocket. James Martin stood in such a position that the contents of the
pocket-book were revealed to him, and the demon of cupidity entered his
heart. How much good this money would do him! There were probably
several hundred dollars in all, perhaps more. He saw the banker put the
money in his pocket,--the one nearest to him. He might easily take it
without observation,--so he thought.

In an evil moment he obeyed the impulse which had come to him. He
plunged his hand into the pocket; but at this moment the banker turned,
and detected him.

"I've caught you, you rascal!" he exclaimed, seizing Martin with a
vigorous grip. "Police!"

Martin made a desperate effort to get free, but another man seized him
on the other side, and he was held, despite his resistance, till a
policeman, who by a singular chance