I can fill those requirements," said young Randolph to himself,
thoughtfully. "For all I can see, I am as likely to be accepted by a
banker as a baker or any one else in want of help. There will doubtless
be a lot of applicants for the position, and so there would if the
demand was for street cleaning, therefore I think I may as well take my
chances with the bank as at anything else."

Having come to this conclusion, he talked the matter over with Bob
Hunter, upon whose practical sense Herbert was beginning to place a high
value. The shrewd young newsboy approved of the plan, so our country lad
started early for Wall Street, where the great money kings are popularly
supposed to hold high carnival, and do all sorts of extraordinary
things. When he arrived, however, at Richard Goldwin's banking house,
his hopes sank very low, for before him was a long line of perhaps forty
or fifty boys, each of whom had come there hoping to secure the
advertised position.

This crowd of young Americans comprised various grades of boys. Some
were stupid, others intelligent; a few were quiet and orderly, but the
majority were boisterous and rough. Squabbling was active, and taunts
and jeers were so numerous, that a strange boy from a quiet country home
would have hardly dared to join this motley crowd, unless he was
possessed of rare courage and determination.

[Illustration: A GLIMPSE OF WALL STREET.]

Herbert Randolph paused for a moment when he had passed through the
outer door, and beheld the spectacle before him. He wondered if he had
made a mistake and entered the wrong place; but before he had time to
settle this question in his own mind, one of the boys before him, who
was taller and more uncivil than those about him, and seemed to be a
leader among them, shouted, derisively:

"Here's a new candidate--right from the barnyard too!"

All turned their attention at once to the object of the speaker's
ridicule, and joined him in such remarks as "potato bug," "country,"
"corn fed," "greeny," "boots," and all the time they howled and jeered
at the boy from the farm most unmercifully.

"You think you'll carry off this position, maybe," said the leader,
sarcastically. "You'd better go home and raise cabbage or punkins!"

Again the crowd exploded with laughter, and as many mean things as could
be thought of were said. Herbert made no reply, but instead of turning
back and running away from such a crowd, as most boys would have done,