er clerk will be here to help you along."

Hamilton Dart turned to his desk, and began to write. Feeling himself
dismissed, Nat said "good-morning," and bowed himself out. The man
listened to his footsteps as he descended the stairs, and then gave a
low chuckle.

"That was easy, Nick," he muttered. "Two so far. I wonder how many more
fools I'll catch before the game plays out?"

CHAPTER XII

ON THE BROOKLYN BRIDGE

"Well, I've struck luck again," said Nat, when he arrived at his
boarding place, and met Dick Talcott.

"Got a job?" questioned the newsboy.

"Yes."

"I hope you're going to get pretty good wages?"

"Ten dollars per week," answered Nat, with just a trace of pride in his
voice.

"Ten dollars. That is luck. What at?"

"I'm in a broker's office, and I'm to do writing and sorting out bills."

"Where is the place?"

"Down on Broadway."

"I'm glad to hear of this, Nat," said the newsboy. "Wish I could strike
something like that."

"Perhaps you will some day, Dick."

"The trouble is I can't write very well. I never had much schooling."

"If you wish, I'll teach you how to write. It always came easy to me."

"Will you teach me? I'll do my best to learn. We can go at it nights."

Early on the following morning, Nat presented himself at the office on
Broadway. He had shined his shoes and brushed his clothes, and presented
a very neat appearance. He found Hamilton Dart at his desk, and smoking
as before.

"I wish you to go to the post office for me," said the man, as soon as
he entered. "Go to the general delivery window and ask for letters for
Samuel Barrows. That is my sick brother-in-law who is visiting me from
Michigan."

"Yes, sir."

"Of course you know where the post office is?"

"Oh, yes. I've been past there several times."

"You needn't be in a hurry. Wait until they sort the eleven-o'clock
mail."

"Yes, sir."

The distance to the post office was a considerable one. But Nat was a
good walker, and found it was only half-past nine when he got there. To
while away the time he determined to walk out on the Brooklyn Bridge and
take in the sights from that elevated structure.

Making his way through the crowd on Park Row, he was soon out on the
bridge, and walking in the direction of Brooklyn. There was a stiff
breeze blowing, and several times his hat was almost lifted from his
head.

Suddenly he heard a shout, and saw a stout man running wildly after some
papers which