"What do you want of the money?" demanded Nat, of the newsboy.

"Oh, it ain't none o' your business."

"I tried to help him sell papers," said Fred. "But I couldn't sell those
he gave me, and now he wants me to pay for them, anyway."

"Did you agree to pay for them?"

"I said I'd pay for them if I sold them."

"Then you don't get any money," said Nat, sharply, to the newsboy. "Now
let this boy alone, do you hear?"

"Ah! wait till I catch him alone," muttered the newsboy, and ran off
around the corner.

CHAPTER XXVI

FRED GIVES UP CITY LIFE

"Now then, Fred, tell me how it is that you are in New York," said Nat,
when the newsboy had departed.

"I--I ran away from home."

"Did you have the carfare to this city?"

"No, I stole a ride to Cleveland on a freight train, and then I stole
another ride on two trains to New York. I was kicked off of one train."

"And what have you been doing since you landed here?"

"Selling papers, and doing odd jobs. I couldn't get anything steady."

"Did you try to find me?"

"No," and the gawk of a boy hung his head.

"Why not?"

"Because I--I wanted to make my own way, same as you are doing. But, oh,
Nat, it's awfully hard."

"Where have you been staying nights?"

"One night I slept in a doorway, and last night I slept in a park until
a policeman came and chased me away."

Fred looked so forlorn and hungry that Nat could not help but pity him.
Coming to the city to earn his living had evidently hit Fred hard.

"Had any supper?" he asked, kindly.

"I had a--a bun."

"Is that all?"

"Yes."

"How much money have you?"

"Fifteen cents, and I wanted to make that last just as long as I could."

"Come with me, and I'll get you something to eat," said our hero.

Fred was willing enough, and seated at a table in a restaurant he fairly
devoured the beef and beans, bread and coffee set before him.

"Have a piece of lemon pie?" asked Nat.

"Can you afford it, Nat?"

"I guess so," and our hero ordered the pie, and also ate a piece, and
drank a glass of milk, to keep Fred company.

"It costs a terrible pile to live in the city," sighed Fred. "You've got
to pay for everything. When I landed, a man made me pay ten cents for
crossing a torn-up street."

"He swindled you, Fred."

"Maybe he did. I know he ran off as soon as he got the money."

"Where were you going to stop to-night?"

"I--I don't know."

"You had better come with me."

"I--I can't