out of the window, and we're going back to see if we can get it. Have we
time?"

"Yes," answered the conductor. "The train has to wait here five minutes
to have some trunks taken off. But don't be too long. I hope you may
find the little boy's toy."

Arthur hoped so himself, as he hurried down to the street level.

"Where do you think my Bear is, Daddy?" he asked.

"It must be somewhere near the bridge," was the answer. "I heard you
call out as the train rumbled over it."

Along the street which ran near the railroad walked Arthur and his
father. As they walked they looked carefully on the ground for sight of
the Plush Bear, but he was not to be found.

"I'm sure you must have dropped him about here," said Mr. Rowe, as he
and the fat boy stood beneath the railroad bridge. "But he isn't in
sight. Perhaps some one picked him up."

"Oh, is my nice Plush Bear gone?" sighed Arthur.

He looked all around, but Mr. Bruin, as the Bear was sometimes called,
was not in sight. Then a ragged little boy, who had been flying a kite,
came running along the street.

"What's the matter?" asked the ragged lad. "Did you lose your ball?"

"No; it's my Plush Bear," answered Arthur. "I dropped him out of the car
window, but I don't see him now."

The ragged boy looked up into the tree under which he and the fat boy
and Mr. Rowe were standing. There, right over their heads, stretched
out on a limb to which he seemed to be clinging with all four paws, was
the Plush Bear. The toy had been looking down at Arthur and his father,
and he had been wishing he might call and tell them where he was, but of
course this was not allowed.

"I see him! I'll get him for you!" cried the ragged boy.

In another moment he was climbing the tree, and a little later he tossed
down the Plush Bear, Mr. Rowe catching the toy in his hands.

"Now I have him back again! Oh, I'm so glad! Now I have my Plush Bear!"
cried Arthur. "I'll never let you fall out of a window again!"

"I should hope not!" said Mr. Rowe, as he gave his fat son the toy. "And
here is twenty-five cents for you, little man," he added to the ragged
boy.

"Oh, thanks!" cried the barefoot lad, as he ran away down the street,
the shining silver quarter held tightly in his hand. Then Arthur and his
father went back to their train, the fat boy holding the Plush Bear in
his arms.

"Oh, you found him! I'm so glad!" said Mrs. Rowe, as her husband and son
took their seats and the train star