's luck at the faro table
had supplied them with money enough to pay the fare to Boston by
railway; otherwise another year might have found them still in St.
Louis.

"Hard work doesn't suit your constitution, does it?" said Ferguson,
slyly.

"I can work as well as anybody," said Luke; "but I haven't had the
luck of some people."

"You were lucky enough to have your fare paid to the West for you."

"Yes, and when we got there, the rascal left us to shift for
ourselves. That aint much luck."

"I've always had to shift for myself, and always expect to," was the
reply.

"Oh, you're a model!" sneered Clapp. "You always were as sober and
steady as a deacon. I wonder they didn't make you one."

"And Walton there is one of the same sort," said Luke. "I say,
Harry, it was real mean in you not to send me the money I wrote for.
You hadn't it, had you?"

"Yes," said Harry, firmly; "but I worked hard for it, and I didn't
feel like giving it away."

"Who asked you to give it away? I only wanted to borrow it."

"That's the same thing--with you. You were not likely to repay it
again."

"Do you mean to insult me?" blustered Luke.

"No, I never insult anybody. I only tell the truth. You know, Luke
Harrison, whether I have reason for what I say."

"I wouldn't leave a friend to suffer when I had plenty of money in my
pocket," said Luke, with an injured air. "If you had been a
different sort of fellow I would have asked you for five dollars to
keep me along till I can get work. I've come back with empty
pockets."

"I'll lend you five dollars if you need it," said Harry, who judged
from Luke's appearance that he told the truth.

"Will you?" said Luke, brightening up. "That's a good fellow. I'll
pay you just as soon as I can."

Harry did not place much reliance on this assurance; but he felt that
he could afford the loss of five dollars, if loss it should prove,
and it might prevent Luke's obtaining the money in a more
questionable way.

"Where's Mr. Anderson?" asked Clapp, looking round the office.

"He's been in Michigan for a couple of months."

"You don't say so! Why, who runs the paper?"

"Ferguson and I," said Harry.

"I mean who edits it?"

"Harry does that," said his fellow-workman.

"Whew!" ejaculated Clapp, in surprise. "Why, but two years ago you
was only a printer's devil!"

"He's risen from the ranks," said Ferguson, "and I can say with truth
that the 'Gazette' has never been bette