could find nothing more to do that
was steady. One day he helped a man distribute bills, and on another
occasion he carried out packages for a florist, and the two jobs brought
him in just a dollar. By this time the soles were worn from his shoes
and he had to have them mended.

"Making one's way in the city isn't so easy after all," he thought one
night, as he sat in his little room, on the edge of the bed. He had
been counting up his money and found that he had but a little over four
dollars left.

"I'll have to give Mrs. Talcott three and a half of that," he continued,
"and that will leave me sixty-five cents. I've got to hustle or I'll be
high and dry by next week."

Nat hustled all of the next week, but without results. In one store the
proprietor was unusually harsh to him, and he came back to Mrs.
Talcott's house more downcast than ever.

"I guess they don't want me in New York after all," he mused. "If I
can't get something to do I can't stay here, for Mrs. Talcott can't
afford to keep me. I'll have to starve!"

He was so disheartened that he did not feel like eating. Immediately
after the meal he went to his little room. Then, of a sudden he thought
of the letter Paul Hampton had given him.

"I may as well open that," he reasoned. "Goodness knows I am short
enough of funds, and pretty well discouraged too."

The letter was in his pocket, still pinned fast, and he brought it forth
and gazed at it speculatively.

"It would be just like him to put a five-dollar bill in it," he thought.

With his penknife he slit the envelope open, and looked inside. It
contained a slip of paper and another slip, of a green color.

"A bill, as sure as I'm in this room!" he ejaculated. "I don't suppose
it's less than a five, and maybe it's a ten. If he--well I declare!"

Nat rushed to the window to look at the bill, and then with a gasp he
sank back on the only chair which the little bedroom contained. He could
scarcely believe the evidence of his senses.

The bank bill was one for a hundred dollars.

CHAPTER XI

WHAT A HUNDRED DOLLARS DID

Nat continued to gaze at the bill like one in a dream. He had never seen
a greenback that was worth a hundred dollars before, but he had no doubt
of its genuineness.

"A hundred dollars!" he repeated several times. "Why, it's a small
fortune!"

Then he began to wonder if Paul Hampton had not made a mistake, and
turned to the slip of paper, upon which he found writte