he stepped to the inner side of the flagging
and rested against the massive stone base of the Astor House.

Looking to his right Broadway extended down to the Battery, and to his
left it stretched far away northward. Up this famous thoroughfare a
mighty stream of humanity flowed homeward. Young Randolph watched the
scene with much interest, forgetting for a time his own heavy heart.
Soon, however, the question what to do with himself pressed him again
for an answer. How entirely alone he felt! Of all the thousands of
people passing by him, not one with a familiar face. Every one seemed
absorbed in himself, and took no more notice of our country lad than if
he had been a portion of the cold inanimate granite against which he
stood. Herbert felt this keenly, for in the country it was so different.
There every one had a kind look or a pleasant word for a fellow man to
cheer him on his way.

CHAPTER III.

AN EVENING WITH BOB HUNTER.

Chilly from approaching night and strengthening wind, and depressed by a
disheartening sense of loneliness and a keen realization of failure on
the first day of his new career, Herbert felt homesick and almost
discouraged.

At length he joined the passers by, and walked quickly until opposite
City Hall Park. He crossed Broadway and soon found himself at young Bob
Hunter's "place of business." The latter was "in," and very glad he
seemed to see his new friend again. His kindly grasp of the hand
and hearty welcome acted like magic upon Herbert Randolph; but his
wretchedly disheartened look did not change in time to escape the keen
young newsboy's notice.

"Didn't strike it rich today, did you?" said he, with a smile.

"No," replied Herbert sadly.

"Didn't find no benevolent old gentleman--them as is always looking for
poor boys to help along and give 'em money and a bang up time?"

"I did not see any such philanthropist looking for me," answered
Herbert, slightly puzzled, for the newsboy's face was seriousness
itself.

"Well, that is all fired strange. I don't see how he missed you, for
they takes right to country boys."

"I did not start out very early," remarked Herbert doubtfully, and with
heightened color.

"Then that's how it happened, I guess," said Bob, with a very thoughtful
air. "But you must have found somebody's pocket book----"

"What do you mean?" interrupted Herbert suspiciously.

"Mean--why what could I mean? Wasn't it plain what I said? Wasn't I
speakin