air.

But it was bitter cold outside for one without an overcoat, and the
youth soon returned to his seat in the cabin, leaving the two men to
themselves.

Hal was a poor-house boy, having lived at the Fairham poor-house ever
since he could remember. Who his parents were he did not know, nor could
Joel Daggett, the keeper of the institution, give him any definite
information on the subject.

"You were picked up in front of Onders' carpenter shop on one Fourth o'
July night," Daggett had said more than once. "They found out some
strange man was responsible, but who he was, nobuddy knows, or leastwise
they won't tell, and that amounts to the same thing."

There had been a peculiar golden locket about Hal's neck when he was
found, but this had never led to the establishing of his identity, and
after the boy was at the poor-house a year the facts concerning his
being found were almost forgotten.

But Hal had clung fast to that locket as a sort of birthright, and it
was at this moment safe in his trousers pocket.

Two days before the opening of this story the trustees of the Fairham
Poor-house had decided to bind Hal out to Daniel Scrogg, one of the most
miserly farmers in the county.

Hal had protested, stating he could make more in the town, where a
lawyer named Gibson was willing to take the youth into his office on a
salary of three dollars a week and found. The trustees were obdurate,
and the upshot of the matter was that the youth quietly packed his
clothing into a bundle and ran away.

He left a note behind for Joel Daggett, telling what he had done, and
stating that as soon as he was in position to do so he would reimburse
the trustees for all they had paid out for his keep for the past fifteen
years; a big undertaking for any boy, but Hal was plucky, and meant what
he said.

Hal's destination was New York. Once in the great metropolis, he felt
certain he would find something to do. To be sure, his capital was less
than a dollar, but he was used to being without any money, and
consequently this did not bother him.

It was about eight o'clock in the evening, and as the man Allen had
said, it was just beginning to snow, the first fall of the season. Hal
looked out of the window as the flakes glittered in the electric light
and fell into the waters of the river.

Presently there came a bump, and the ferry-boat veered to one side. The
slip had been reached, and, pulling shut the rather thin jacket he wore,