t he should go on shore and buy two,
while the other remained to inform the absent boy's parents where he
had gone.

He had had some difficulty in finding a top to suit him, and he
thought that he must have spent at least an hour in the search. When
at last he had procured two good ones--and he showed them in proof of
the truthfulness of his story--he was nearly as long again in finding
his way back to the steamer. Not knowing the name of the vessel, nor
the line to which she belonged, he was obliged to visit each pier in
succession, in order to find the right one.

[Illustration: HE SHOWED THEM IN PROOF OF THE TRUTHFULNESS OF HIS
STORY.]

When, from the appearance of the buildings opposite, he knew that he
was back again to the point from which he had started, he learned to
his dismay that the steamer had been gone fully an hour. At first he
could hardly realize that he had been left behind, while his parents
had started on such a long voyage, and he could not account for the
neglect of his newly-made friend in not telling them that he had gone
on shore, unless it was owing to the fact that he had neglected to
point out his father, or to tell what his name was.

After he had fully realized that he was alone in a great city, with no
means of providing himself with food and shelter, save through the
medium of two very nice tops and six cents, he started in search of
the depot which they had arrived at, intending to take the next train
back to Chicago, providing the conductor would take his tops in
payment. But he could not find the depot, and at nearly seven o'clock
in the evening he had stopped to ask advice from two boys of about his
own age--neither one of them was over eleven years old--in the hope
that they could straighten matters out for him.

These two were very much inclined to doubt his story until he showed
the tops as proof, and even then they would have looked upon some
portions of it as false had he not also produced the six cents, and
with three of them stood treat all round to that sticky delicacy
known as "pea-nut taffy."

Then they believed all he had told them, and adjourning to a very
broad door-step near by, they sat down to consult upon what it was
best for him to do. To begin with, and in order that he might
understand the case fully, one of the boys asked, as he struggled with
the sticky dainty,

"What's yer name?"

"Paul Weston," replied the stranger.

"Well, my name's Johnny Jones,