sement did not fall under
the eyes of those with whom he came in contact. At length the padrone
was compelled to own himself baffled and give up the search. He was not
without hopes, however, that sometime Phil would turn up. He did hear of
him again through Pietro, but not in a way to bring him any nearer his
recovery.

This is the way it happened:

One Saturday morning in March, about three months after Phil had found a
home, the doctor said to him: "Phil, I am going to New York this morning
on a little business; would you like to come with me?"

Phil's eyes brightened. Though he was happy in his village home, he had
longed at times to find himself in the city streets with which his old
vagabond life had rendered him so familiar.

"I should like it very much," he answered, eagerly.

"Then run upstairs and get ready. I shall start in fifteen minutes."

Phil started, and then turned back.

"I might meet Pietro, or the padrone," he said, hesitating.

"No matter if you do, I shall be with you. If they attempt to recover
you, I will summon the police."

The doctor spoke so confidently that Phil dismissed his momentary fear.
Two hours later they set foot in New York.

"Now, Phil," said the doctor, "my business will not take long. After
that, if there are any friends you would like to see, I will go with you
and find them."

"I should like to see Paul Hoffman," said Phil. "I owe him two dollars
and a half for the fiddle."

"He shall be paid," said the doctor. "He shall lose nothing by trusting
you."

An hour afterward, while walking with the doctor in a side street,
Phil's attention was attracted by the notes of a hand-organ. Turning in
the direction from which they came, he met the glance of his old enemy,
Pietro.

"It is Pietro," he said, quickly, touching the arm of his companion.

Pietro had not been certain till then that it was Phil. It looked like
him, to be sure, but his new clothing and general appearance made such
a difference between him and the Phil of former days that he would
have supposed it only an accidental resemblance. But Phil's evident
recognition of him convinced him of his identity. He instantly ceased
playing, and, with eager exultation, advanced to capture him. Phil would
have been alarmed but for his confidence in the doctor's protection.

"I have got you at last, scelerato," said Pietro, roughly, grasping Phil
by the shoulder with a hostile glance.

The doctor instantly seized