"I think I can succeed better in the negotiation if I am alone," said
the stranger.  "I'll tell you what--you needn't hand me the money,
provided you agree to take the ticket off my hands at fifty dollars
if I secure it."

"Certainly I will, and be very thankful to you."

"I always like to help young men along," said the stranger
benevolently.  "I'll see about it to-morrow.  Now, where can I meet
you?"

"In this room.  How will that do?"

"Perfectly.  I am sure I can get the ticket for you.  Be sure to have
the money ready."

"I'll be sure," said Joe cheerfully.

"And hark you, my young friend," continued the stranger, "don't say a
word to any one of what I am going to do for you, or I might have
other applications, which I should be obliged to refuse."

"Very well, sir.  I will remember."

Punctually at four the next day the stranger entered the room, where
Joe was already awaiting him.

"Have you succeeded?" asked Joe eagerly.

The stranger nodded.

"Let us go up to your room and complete our business.  For reasons
which I have already mentioned, I prefer that the transaction should
be secret."

"All right, sir."

Joe got his key, and led the way up-stairs.

"I had a little difficulty with the agent," said the stranger; "but
finally he yielded, out of old friendship." He produced a large card,
which read thus:


CALIFORNIA STEAMSHIP COMPANY.

THE BEARER

Is Entitled to One Steerage Passage

FROM

NEW YORK TO SAN FRANCISCO

STEAMER COLUMBUS.


Below this was printed the name of the agent.  Joe paid over the
money joyfully.

"I am very much obliged to you," he said gratefully.

"Don't mention it," said the stranger, pocketing the fifty dollars.
"Good day!  Sorry to leave you, but I am to meet a gentleman at five."

He went down-stairs, and left Joe alone.




CHAPTER VII

JOE GETS INTO TROUBLE

"How lucky I have been," thought Joe, in the best of spirits.  "There
wasn't one chance in ten of my succeeding, and yet I have succeeded.
Everything has turned out right.  If I hadn't met this man, I
couldn't have got a ticket at half price."

Joe found that after paying his hotel expenses, he should have a
dollar left over.  This would be rather a small sum to start with in
California, but Joe didn't trouble himself much about that.

In the course of the day Joe found himself in the upper part of the
Bowery.  It seemed to him a very lively street, and he was much
interested in looking in at the shop windows as he passed.

He was standing before a window, when a stone from some quarter
struck the pane and shivered it in pieces.

Joe was startled, and was gazing at the scene of havoc in
bewilderment, when a stout German, the proprietor, rushed out and
seized him by the collar.

"Aha!  I have you, you young rascal!" he exclaimed furiously.  "I'll
make you pay for this!"

By this time Joe had recovered his senses.

"Let me alone!" he exclaimed.

"I let you know!" exclaimed the angry man.  "You break my window!
You pay me five dollar pretty quick, or I send you to prison!"

"I didn't break your window!  It's a lie!"

"You tell me I lie?" shouted the angry German.  "First you break my
window, then you tell me I lie!  You, one bad boy--you one loafer!"

"I don't know who broke your window," said Joe, "but I tell you I
didn't.  I was standing here, looking in, when, all at once, I heard
a crash."

"You take me for one fool, perhaps," said his captor, puffing with
excitement.  "You want to get away, hey?"

"Yes, I do."

"And get no money for my window?"

By this time a crowd had collected around the chief actors in this
scene.  They were divided in opinion.

"Don't he look wicked, the young scamp?" said a thin-visaged female
with a long neck.

"Yes," said her companion.  "He's one of them street rowdies that go
around doin' mischief.  They come around and pull my bell, and run
away, the villians!"

"What's the matter, my boy?" asked a tall man with sandy hair,
addressing himself to Joe in a friendly tone.

"This man says I broke his window."

"How was it?  Did you break it?"

"No, sir.  I was standing looking in, when a stone came from
somewhere and broke it."

"Look here, sir," said the sandy-haired man, addressing himself to
the German, "what reason have you for charging this boy with breaking
your window?"

"He stood shoost in front of it," said the German.

"If he had broken it, he would have run away.  Didn't that occur to
you?"

"Some one broke mine window," said the German.

"Of course; but a boy who threw a stone must do so from a distance,
and he wouldn't be likely to run up at once to the broken window."

"Of course not.  The man's a fool!" were the uncomplimentary remarks
of the bystanders, who a minute before had looked upon Joe as
undoubtedly guilty.

"You've got no case at all," said Joe's advocate.  "Let go the boy's
collar, or I shall advise him to charge you with assault and battery."

"Maybe you one friend of his?" said the German.

"I never saw the boy before in my life," said the other, "but I don't
want him falsely accused."

"Somebody must pay for my window."

"That's fair; but it must be the boy or man that broke it, not my
young friend here, who had no more to do with it than myself.  I
sympathize with you, and wish you could catch the scamp that did it."

At that moment a policeman came up.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"My window was broke--dat's what's de matter."

"Who broke it?" asked the policeman.

"I caught dat boy standing outside," pointing to Joe.

"Aha, you young rascal!  I've caught you, have I?  I've had my eye on
you for weeks!"

And Joe, to his dismay, found himself collared anew.

"I've only been in the city two days," said Joe.

"Take him to jail!" exclaimed the German.

And the policeman was about to march off poor Joe, when a voice of
authority stayed him.

"Officer, release that boy!" said the sandy-haired man sternly.

"I'll take you along, too, if you interfere."

"Release that boy!" repeated the other sternly; "and arrest the
German for assault and battery.  I charge him with assaulting this
boy!"

"Who are you?" demanded the officer insolently.

"My name is ------, and I am one of the new police commissioners,"
said the sandy-haired man quietly.

Never was there a quicker change from insolence to fawning.

"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir," said the officer, instantly releasing
Joe.  "I didn't know you."

"Nor your duty, either, it appears," said the commissioner sternly.
"Without one word of inquiry into the circumstances, you were about
to arrest this boy.  A pretty minister of justice you are!"

"Shall I take this man along, sir?" asked the policeman, quite
subdued.

At this suggestion the bulky Teuton hurried into his shop, trembling
with alarm.  With great difficulty he concealed himself under the
counter.

"You may let him go this time.  He has some excuse for his conduct,
having suffered loss by the breaking of his window.  As for you,
officer, unless you are more careful in future, you will not long
remain a member of the force."

The crowd disappeared, only Joe and his advocate remaining behind.

"I am grateful to you, sir, for your kindness," said Joe.  "But for
you I should have been carried to the station-house."

"It is fortunate I came along just as I did.  Are you a stranger in
the city?"

"Yes, sir."

"You must be careful not to run into danger.  There are many perils
in the city for the in experienced."

"Thank you, sir.  I shall remember your advice."

The next day, about two hours before the time of sailing, Joe went
down to the wharf.

As he was going on board a man stopped him.

"Have you got a ticket?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," said Joe, "a steerage ticket.  There it is."

"Where did you get this?" asked the man.

Joe told him.

"How much did you pay for it?"

"Fifty dollars."

"Then you have lost your money, for it is a bogus ticket.  You can't
travel on it."

Joe stared at the other in blank dismay.  The earth seemed to be
sinking under him.  He realized that he had been outrageously
swindled, and that he was farther from going to California than ever.




CHAPTER VIII

JOE'S LUCK CHANGES

The intelligence that his ticket was valueless came to Joe like a
thunderbolt from a clear sky.  The minute before he was in high
spirits--his prospects seemed excellent and his path bright.

"What shall I do?" he ejaculated.

"I can't tell you," said the officer.  "One thing is clear--you can't
go to California on that ticket."

Poor Joe!  For the moment hope was dead within his breast.  He had
but one dollar left and that was only half the amount necessary to
carry him back to the village where we found him at the commencement
of our story.  Even if he were able to go back, he felt he would be
ashamed to report the loss of his money.  The fact that he had
allowed himself to be swindled mortified him not a little.  He would
never hear the last of it if he returned to Oakville.

"No; I wouldn't go back if I could," he decided.

"Wouldn't I like to get hold of the man that sold me the ticket!"

He had hardly given mental expression to this wish when it was
gratified.  The very man passed him and was about to cross the
gangplank into the steamer.  Joe's eyes flashed, and he sprang
forward and seized the man by the arm.

The swindler's countenance changed when he recognized Joe, but he
quickly decided upon his course.

"What do you want, Johnny?" he asked composedly.

"What do I want?  I want my fifty dollars back."

"I don't know what you are talking about."

"You sold me a bogus ticket for fifty dollars," said Joe stoutly.
"Here it is.  Take it back and give me my money."

"The boy must be crazy," said the swindler.

"Did you sell him that ticket?" inquired the officer.

"Never saw him before in my life."

"Ain't you mistaken, boy?" asked the officer.

"No, sir.  This is the very man."

"Have you any business here?" asked the officer.

"Yes," said the man; "I've taken a steerage ticket to San Francisco.
Here it is."

"All right.  Go in."

He tore himself from Joe's grasp and went on board the steamer.  Our
hero, provoked, was about to follow him, when the officer said:

"Stand back!  You have no ticket."

"That man bought his ticket with my money."

"That is nothing to me," said the officer.  "It may be so, or you may
be mistaken."

"I am not mistaken," said Joe.

"You can report it to the police--that is, if you think you can prove
it.  Now, stand back!"

Poor Joe!  He had been worsted in the encounter with this
arch-swindler.  He would sail for San Francisco on the Columbus.
Perhaps he would make his fortune there, while Joe, whom he had so
swindled, might, within three days, be reduced to beggary.

Joe felt that his confidence in human nature was badly shaken.
Injustice and fraud seemed to have the best of it in this world, so
far as his experience went, and it really seemed as if dishonesty
were the best policy.  It is a hard awakening for a trusting boy,
when he first comes in contact with selfishness and corruption.

Joe fell back because he was obliged to.  He looked around, hoping
that he might somewhere see a policeman, for he wanted to punish the
scoundrel to whom he owed his unhappiness and loss.  But, as
frequently happens, when an officer is wanted none is to be seen.

Joe did not leave the wharf.  Time was not of much value to him, and
he decided that he might as well remain and see the steamer start on
which he had fondly hoped to be a passenger.

Meanwhile, the preparations for departure went steadily forward.
Trunks arrived and were conveyed on board; passengers, accompanied by
their friends, came, and all was hurry and bustle.

Two young men, handsomely dressed and apparently possessed of larger
means than the great majority of the passengers, got out of a hack
and paused close to where Joe was standing.

"Dick," said one, "I'm really sorry you are not going with me.  I
shall feel awfully lonely without you."

"I am very much disappointed, Charlie, but duty will keep me at home.
My father's sudden, alarming sickness has broken up all my plans."

"Yes, Dick, of course you can't go."

"If my father should recover, in a few weeks, I will come out and
join you, Charlie."

"I hope you may be able to, Dick.  By the way, how about your ticket?"

"I shall have to lose it, unless the company will give me another in
place of it."

"They ought to do it."

"Yes, but they are rather stiff about it.  I would sell it for a
hundred dollars."

Joe heard this and his heart beat high.

He pressed forward, and said eagerly:

"Will you sell it to me for that?"

The young man addressed as Dick looked, in surprise, at the poorly
dressed boy who had addressed him.

"Do you want to go to California?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," said Joe.  "I am very anxious to go."

"Do I understand you to offer a hundred dollars for my ticket?"

"Yes, sir; but I can't pay you now."

"When do you expect to be able to pay me, then?"

"Not till I've earned the money in California."

"Have you thought before of going?"

"Yes, sir.  Until an hour ago I thought that it was all arranged that
I should go.  I came down here and found that the ticket I had bought
was a bogus one, and that I had been swindled out of my money."

"That was a mean trick," said Dick Scudder indignantly.  "Do you know
the man that cheated you?"

"Yes; he is on board the steamer."

"How much money have you got left?"

"A dollar."

"Only a dollar?  And you are not afraid to land in California with
this sum?"

"No, sir.  I shall go to work at once."

"Charlie," said Dick, turning to his friend, "I will do as you say.
Are you willing to take this boy into your stateroom in my place?"

"Yes," said Charles Folsom promptly.  "He looks like a good boy.  I
accept him as my roommate."

"All right," said the other.  "My boy, what is your name?"

"Joe Mason."

"Well, Joe, here is my ticket.  If you are ever able to pay a hundred
dollars for this ticket, you may pay it to my friend, Charles Folsom.
Now, I advise you both to be getting aboard, as it is nearly time for
the steamer to sail.  I won't go on with you, Charlie, as I must go
back to my father's bedside."

"Good-by, sir.  God bless you!" said Joe gratefully.  "Good-by, Joe,
and good luck!"

As they went over the plank, the officer, recognizing Joe, said
roughly:

"Stand back, boy!  Didn't I tell you you couldn't go aboard without a
ticket?"

"Here is my ticket," said Joe.

"A first-class ticket!" exclaimed the officer, in amazement.  "Where
did you get it?"

"I bought it," answered Joe.

"I shall go to California, after all!" thought our hero exultingly.




CHAPTER IX

THE FIRST DAY ON BOARD

"We will look up our stateroom first, Joe," said his new friend.  "It
ought to be a good one."

The stateroom proved to be No. 16, very well located and spacious for
a stateroom.  But to Joe it seemed very small for two persons.  He
was an inexperienced traveler and did not understand that life on
board ship is widely different from life on shore.  His companion had
been to Europe and was used to steamer life.

"I think, Joe," said he, "that I shall put you in the top berth.  The
lower berth is considered more desirable, but I claim it on the score
of age and infirmity."

"You don't look very old, or infirm," said Joe.

"I am twenty-three.  And you?"

"Fifteen--nearly sixteen."

"I have a stateroom trunk, which will just slip in under my berth.
Where is your luggage?"

Joe looked embarrassed.

"I don't know but you will feel ashamed of me," he said; "but the
only extra clothes I have are tied up in this handkerchief."

Charles Folsom whistled.

"Well," said he, "you are poorly provided.  What have you got inside?"

"A couple of shirts, three collars, two handkerchiefs, and a pair of
stockings."

"And you are going a journey of thousands of miles!  But never mind,"
he said kindly.  "I am not much larger than you, and, if you need it,
I can lend you.  Once in California, you will have less trouble than
if you were loaded down with clothes.  I must get you to tell me your
story when there is time."

They came on deck just in time to see the steamer swing out of the
dock.

There were some of the passengers with sober faces.  They had bidden
farewell to friends and relatives whom they might not see for
years--perhaps never again.  They were going to a new country, where
hardships undoubtedly awaited them, and where they must take their
chances of health and success.  Some, too, feared seasickness, a
malady justly dreaded by all who have ever felt its prostrating
effects.  But Joe only felt joyful exhilaration.

"You look happy, Joe," said young Folsom.

"I feel so," said Joe.

"Are you hoping to make your fortune in California?"

"I am hoping to make a living," said Joe.

"Didn't you make a living here at home?"

"A poor living, with no prospects ahead.  I didn't mind hard work and
poor clothes, if there had been a prospect of something better by and
by."

"Tell me your story.  Where were you living?" Charles Folsom listened
attentively.

"Major Norton didn't appear disposed to pamper you, or bring you up
in luxury, that's a fact.  It would have been hard lines if, on
account of losing your aunt's legacy, you had been compelled to go
back to Oakville."

"I wouldn't have gone," said Joe resolutely.

"What would you have done?"

"Stayed in New York, and got a living somehow, even if I had to black
boots in the street."

"I guess you'll do.  You've got the right spirit.  It takes boys and
men like you for pioneers."

Joe was gratified at his companion's approval.

"Now," said Folsom, "I may as well tell you my story.  I am the son
of a New York merchant who is moderately rich.  I entered the
counting-room at seventeen, and have remained there ever since, with
the exception of four months spent in Europe."

"If you are rich already, why do you go out to California?" asked Joe.

"I am not going to the mines; I am going to prospect a little for the
firm.  Some day San Francisco will be a large city.  I am going to
see how soon it will pay for our house to establish a branch there."

"I see," said Joe.

"I shall probably go out to the mines and take a general survey of
the country; but, as you see, I do not go out to obtain employment."

"It must be jolly not to have to work," said Joe, "but to have plenty
of money to pay your expenses."

"Well, I suppose it is convenient.  I believe you haven't a large
cash surplus?"

"I have a dollar."