him, he disappeared. We rather think he is in New York again, and if so,
we shall do all we can to round him up."

On the following day Nat was sent on an errand up to Forty-second
Street. He had to deliver some real estate documents, and this done, he
stopped for a moment to look at the Grand Central Depot.

"Thank fortune, I am not quite so green as I was when I landed," he
mused.

He was just leaving the vicinity of the station, when, chancing to look
down a side street, he saw a sight that filled him with astonishment.

"Uncle Abner, and the Widow Guff!" he murmured. "What are they doing,
talking to that seedy-looking fellow?"

Our hero was right. There, near the entrance to a big building, stood
Abner Balberry and his bride, and a sharp-eyed but shabbily dressed
stranger was talking to them very earnestly.

"Uncle Abner must have married the widow," thought Nat. "More than
likely they are on their wedding tour. Wonder what that other fellow
wants of uncle?"

Nat's first inclination was to leave the spot, so that his relative
might not discover him. But he did not like the looks of the stranger,
and so drew closer, to learn, if possible, what the interview meant.

The man had just come past Abner and his wife, and had pretended to pick
up a pocketbook.

"Say, did you drop your pocketbook?" he asked, of Abner.

"I--I guess not!" stammered the farmer, and felt to make certain that
his own wallet was safe.

"Queer, who did drop this," went on the stranger. "Pretty well filled,
too," he added, opening the pocketbook and looking into it.

"Did you jest pick it up?" queried Abner, falling into the trap.

"Sure, right down there. Say, this is a find, ain't it?" and the man
smiled broadly.

"That's what it is," said the farmer.

"I wish I could find a pocketbook," sighed Mrs. Balberry.

"I'd like to return this to the owner," went on the stranger. "I don't
want to keep anybody's money."

"'Tain't everybody would say thet," was Abner's comment. He wished he
had made the find.

"I suppose not, but I believe in being honest." The stranger scratched
his head. "Hang me, if I know what to do," he continued.

"What do you mean?"

"I've got to go out of town soon--train leaves in ten minutes. I don't
want to take this with me. It don't seem just right."

"I see."

"Can't you find the owner--I'm sure he would pay us a reward."

"Me find the owner?" stammered the farmer.

"Yes. You might advertise. The