"against the
constitution and by-laws of Fulton Market to eat a raw oyster without
the lemon-juice," and Dick would have blushed if he could.

"Dat's so. I forgot um!" and then he added, with great care, "Yes, Mr.
Foster, the lemon improves the oyster."

"I declare!" muttered Ford. "He's keeping it up!"

The oysters were eaten, and then it was "Come on, boys;" and away they
went up Fulton Street to Broadway. They walked two and two, as well as
the streams of people would let them, but the Hart boys kept a little in
the rear.

"What do you think of it, Joe?"

"Think of what?"

"Walking over New York with Dick Lee, just as if he was one of us?"

"Guess nobody'll think we're walking with him. Anybody can tell what we
are, just by looking at us."

"Dick's face shows just what he is too. I don't care for this once, but
it's awful."

If any such thought were troubling Ford Foster, he made no confession of
it, and was even specially careful, now and then, to turn around and
address some remark or other to "the member from Africa," as he called
him.

"Dick," said Dab in an undertone, as they were leaving the market, "you
look out, now: you must have as good a time as any of us, or I won't
feel right about it."

"Jes' you sail right ahead, Cap'n Dab. I's on hand."

Ford was determined to "do the honors," and he led them down Broadway to
the Battery before he started "up town;" and he had something to say
about a great many of the buildings. Dab felt his respect for city boys
increasing rapidly, and Dick remarked,--

"Ef he don't know dis coas' mos' as well as I know de bay!"

It looked like it, and he also seemed to be on terms of easy
acquaintance with some of the human "fish" they fell in with. Not that
he spoke to any of them; but he pointed out the several
kinds,--policemen, firemen, messenger-boys, loafers, brokers,
post-office carriers, a dozen more, with a degree of confidence which
fairly astonished his friends.

"I could learn to tell all of them that wear uniforms, myself," said
Dabney; "but how do you know the others?"

"How do I know 'em? Well, it's just like knowing a miller or a
blacksmith, when you see him. They all have some kind of smut on them
that comes from their trade."

There may have been something in that, or it may be barely possible that
Ford now and then mixed his men a little, and pointed out brokers as
"gamblers," and busy attorneys as probable pickpockets. He may have been
t