he knew quite well.
The young man's name was Harry Ford, and he treated Ralph kindly.

"Very sorry, Ralph, but there is no opening," he said. "Only last week we
discharged two young fellows because we could not keep them going. Orders
are rather slack."

"Then there is nothing at all open?"

Harry Ford shook his head.

"I'll ask the boss if he'll take you on, but I am certain it will do no
good."

The owner of the mill came in just then, and he was appealed to. He at once
said he could not possibly take on a new hand.

"If an opening occurs I'll keep you in mind," said Harry Ford, and with
this promise Ralph had to be content.

After leaving the planing-mill, the boy came to several stores. At the
first and second no help of any kind was needed. At the third they wanted a
boy to distribute circulars.

"The job will last for a week," said the storekeeper, "for I want the
circulars distributed in every place in Eastport, Westville, and all the
summer boarding-houses and hotels in the neighborhood."

"And how much are you willing to pay?" asked Ralph.

"I'll give you four dollars for the week if you do the work properly. I
won't have any circulars wasted."

Ralph hesitated. Four dollars was not much, but it was better than nothing.

"I am looking for a steady place," he said. "But if I can't find it, I'll
take the job," he said.

"I want the circulars to go out as soon as possible. They advertise my
summer sporting goods, and the season is now pretty well advanced."

"Will you keep the place open for me until this evening?"

"What is your name?"

"Ralph Nelson. I used to be the bridge tender."

"Oh, yes, I thought I had seen you before. All right, Nelson; I'll wait
until six o'clock to hear from you."

"Thank you, Mr. Dunham. I'll let you know one way or the other by that
time," said Ralph.

When the boy left the store he found it was already noon. He had a lunch
with him, and, strolling down to the water's edge, he sat on a little dock
and ate it.

He had just about finished when a rowboat came into view. There was a
single occupant at the oars. It was Percy Paget.

"Hallo, there! what are you doing here?" cried the young bully, as he ran
up to the dock and leaped ashore.

"Taking it easy," returned Ralph, coolly.

"Indeed!" said Percy, sarcastically. "Plenty of time for that now, I
suppose."

"Yes, I have more time on my hands than I care to have, Percy."

"Don't call me Percy! I am not