n New York city."

"Thanks. Where 's the kid?"

The kid, with a grin from ear to ear, had kindly assumed a pose upon
the radiator of the machine which had so nearly killed him for the
benefit of the insatiate photographers. It was 3457.

"You!" exclaimed Donaldson, as he found himself looking into the
familiar face. He lifted the boy to the ground.

"Let's get out of the crowd, kid," he whispered. "I want to see you."

He pushed his way through to the sidewalk, followed by the admiring
throng, and hurried along to the nearest cab. He shoved the boy
quickly into this and followed after as the photographers gave one last
despairing snap.

"Drive anywhere," he ordered the driver. "Only get out of this."

He turned to the boy.

"Are you hurt?"

"No. Are youse?"

"Not a mite. Where were you bound?"

"Home."

"Where is that?"

The boy gave an address and Donaldson repeated it to the driver.

"I 'll go along with you and see that you don't block any more traffic."

"Gee. I never saw the rope."

"That's because you were in a hurry. It does n't pay to hurry life at
all. Not a second."

"But the comp'ny can fire yer in a hurry if you don't hurry."

"A company can hurry because it hasn't a soul. You have. Keep it."

Donaldson felt as though he had found an old friend. It seemed now a
month ago since he had wandered through the stores with this boy. The
latter recalled again something of the spirit of those hours.

"Say," asked Bobby, "h'ain't yuh spent all yer coin yet?"

"No. I have n't had time to spend more than a few dollars since I left
you. I ought to have hung on to you as a mascot."

"It's a cinch. I c'u'd a-helped yuh if yer 'd follered me. Me ten
spot's gone."

"How'd you do it?"

"Huh? Yuh talks as though a feller'd have to hunt round an' find a
hole to drop it inter. Dere 's allers one that's handy, 'n' that's th'
rent hole."

"That does n't come on you, does it? Where's your Daddy?"

"Dead," answered the boy laconically.

The word had a new meaning to Donaldson as it fell from the lips of the
boy. Dead. It was a terrible word.

"Guess th' ol' gent must ha' thought I was comin' to join him a minute
ago. Would ha' been sort of rough on Mumsy."

"And on you, too," returned Donaldson fiercely. "You have been cheated
out of a lot of life. Don't let that happen. Cling to every minute
you can get. Die hard, boy. Die hard."

Bobby yawned.

CHAPTER X