Poor Archie grew pale at the thought of being put in jail, and huddled himself closer in the corner. After a time the train started, and the tramps, he noticed, climbed up into some sort of compartment under the roof of the car, where they wouldn’t be observed, leaving Archie alone down-stairs. Things went smoothly for a time. The train went flying along, and Archie counted every mile which brought him nearer to the city. Finally the train pulled up at a crossing, and a brakeman came along and threw open the door of the car. He was not long in discovering the cowering figure in the corner, and his wrath was dreadful to look upon. “So, ye cussed vagabond,” he growled, “ye thought ye’d steal a ride, did ye? Get out o’ this now. Quick, out with ye.” Archie could have fainted, and, as it was, he almost fell out of the car, propelled by the brakeman’s boot. For awhile he stood dazed beside the track, and finally moved on. “I’ll keep a ’stiff upper lip,’” he said, “whatever happens.” But this was by far the most discouraging adventure yet.
ARRIVAL IN NEW YORK— A NIGHT IN A LODGING-HOUSE.
On and on for the rest of the day walked Archie. His feet were sore, he was weak from hunger, and he was made miserable with being homesick. People who met him on the road turned around to look at the slender lad with the pale face and the weary step, but he kept walking on, stopping for nothing, and noticing no one. At noon he picked some apples in an orchard, and these appeased his hunger. When evening drew near, however, he felt that he could go without food no longer, so he didn’t hesitate to stop at a house and ask for food. “I know mother would give a boy food if one should come to our door,” he said to himself, “so I do not think it wrong for me to ask for food here.” He was fortunate enough to strike a pleasant housewife, who took him in and made him sit down at the kitchen