nner
room off the immigrants' reception hall, sitting on an old trunk, and
busily engaged in trying to prevent his 'cello, which was protected
only by a green bag, from being smashed by the rushing, gesticulating
crowd of baggage men, porters and immigrants. With his round, smiling
face and blond hair he was the picture of his father, and Von Barwig,
recognising him in a moment, embraced him cordially.

"I am to be sent back," he cried in German.

"Nonsense!" said Von Barwig, placing his arm around the young man
affectionately. After Von Barwig had introduced his friend, they
noticed his crestfallen manner.

"What's the matter?" asked Pinac, who could not understand German, but
who knew something was wrong, and wanted to show Poons that he knew the
ropes in the States. Poons poured out a tale of woe which was intended
to touch Von Barwig's heart and gain his sympathy, instead of which it
made him laugh heartily.

"Some one is investing his money for him and hasn't come back yet," Von
Barwig confided to his friends; and they laughed too. Poons could not
understand why the men laughed at his troubles. The simple German lad
had been swindled out of all his money, two hundred marks, by the
simplest and most transparent of the many methods of swindling, the
confidence game, and the immigration authorities had refused to allow
him to land, as he had no means of subsistence. Von Barwig had very
little money with him, so he consulted with his friends. They were
playing in a _cafe_ at night and had a few dollars in their pockets,
which they cheerfully handed to Von Barwig. Between them they managed
to find the necessary money and Poons was allowed to land. On the way
uptown the boy was profuse in his gratitude for the money that Von
Barwig had sent to his mother while she lived. It was she who had
given her son Von Barwig's address and begged him to seek him out in
America and greet him for her. Poons was greatly astonished at Von
Barwig's appearance and condition, for he had always heard of him as
one of the great conductors of Germany. He did not understand how Herr
Von Barwig could be so poor, but he accepted the facts as they were and
ceased to ask himself any further questions.

In due course they arrived at Miss Husted's and young Poons, bag and
baggage and 'cello, was shortly afterward ensconced in a hall bedroom
on the top floor of that lady's establishment. Von Barwig hurried to
his room, locked the d