The Erie Train Boy. Horatio Alger Jr.

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      "Have you invested in it yourself, Ferdinand?"

      "Oh, yes," answered Morris, glibly, "I have a hundred and fifty shares."

      Suspicious as she was, Miss Morris believed her suitor to be a man of means, and did not doubt his statement.

      "Then I hope for your sake it will prove a good investment."

      "Confound her!" thought Morris, "there seems no chance to make her open her purse strings. She has got to come down liberally, or I won't marry her."

      It was at Miss Marden's door that Ferdinand Morris rang on the evening after the loss of the ring. He would have kept away, but he had promised to call, and Miss Morris was very strict in requiring him to keep his engagements.

      He had hardly entered the room when she discovered the loss of the ring.

      "What has become of the ring, Ferdinand?" she asked quickly.

      "I thought you would miss it," he replied in some confusion.

      "Where is it?" I asked Miss Harden peremptorily.

      "Plague take the old cat," thought Morris. "I suppose I may as well tell the truth."

      "The fact is," he stammered, "it was stolen from me on an Erie train to-day by a pickpocket."

      "And you let him do it? What could you be thinking of, Ferdinand?"

      "You have no idea how expert these fellows are, Josephine," said Morris, who certainly ought to know.

      "I think a man must be inexcusably careless or simple," returned the spinster, "to allow a man to steal a ring from his finger. Do you suspect anybody?"

      "Yes; I sat beside a young man dressed up as a countryman. He was such a good imitation, that I was positively taken in. He looked as if he had been driving the plow all his life."

      "And he stole the ring?"

      "He must have done it. There was no one else near who had the chance."

      "But how could he slip it off your finger without your knowing it?"

      "The fact is, I fell into a doze, and when I was half asleep the ring was taken. After he had got it he got out at some station, and I am afraid I never shall see him again."

      "I am not satisfied with your explanation, Ferdinand."

      "You don't mean to say you doubt my word, Josephine?"

      "I paid fifty dollars for that ring at a jeweler's on Sixth Avenue, and I don't feel like losing so much money."

      "But it is my loss, as you gave it to me."

      "You forget that in case our engagement was broken, it was to be returned."

      "But you really don't think of breaking the engagement? You don't want to drive me to despair?"

      "Do you really love me so much, Ferdinand?" said the spinster, smiling complacently.

      "Can you doubt it? It makes me very unhappy to have you find fault with me."

      "But you must admit that you were very careless."

      "I confess it, but the man looked so innocent."

      "Do you think you shall ever meet him again?"

      "I think so. He may be in another disguise."

      "I will give you four weeks to do so, Ferdinand. If you don't succeed I shall require you to buy another in its place."

      "I will do my best," said Morris.

      "I really thought you were sharper, Ferdinand. No pickpocket could rob me."

      "I may try it some time," thought Morris. "It would be rather a satisfaction to do it too."

      "I wonder if I shall meet that country fellow again," thought Morris as he left the house. "If I do I'll see if I can't frighten him into returning my ring."

      The very next evening, in passing the Standard Theater, near the corner of Thirty-Third Street Morris saw and instantly recognized the tall, rustic figure and slouching walk of Joshua Bascom. He paused a moment in indecision, then summoning up all his native bravado, he stepped forward, and laid his hand on Joshua's shoulder.

      "Look here, my friend," he said in tone of authority, "I have some business with you."

      CHAPTER VIII.

      MR. BASCOM'S SAD PLIGHT

      Joshua turned in alarm, fearing that he was in the hands of a policeman.

      "What have I done?" he began. Then recognizing Morris, he said, "Why, it's the man who stole my wallet."

      "You must be crazy," rejoined Morris. "I charge you with theft."

      "Well, that beats all!" ejaculated Joshua. "Just give me back my ten dollars."

      "I admire your cheek, my friend," said Morris, "but it won't go down.

      Where is that ring you stole from my finger?"

      "You left it in my pocket when you put in your hand and stole my wallet."

      "Ha, you confess that you have got it. Where is it?"

      "Give me back my wallet and I may tell you."

      "My rural friend, you are in great danger. Do you see that policeman coming up the street? Well, I propose to give you in charge unless you give me back my ring."

      "I haven't got it," said Joshua, beginning to feel uneasy.

      "Then give me fifty dollars, the sum I paid for it."

      "Gosh all hemlock!" exclaimed Joshua impatiently. "You talk as if I was a thief instead of you."

      "So you are."

      "It's a lie."

      "Of course you say so. If you haven't fifty dollars, give me all you have, and I'll let you off."

      "I won't do it."

      "Then you must take the consequences. Here, policeman, I give this man in charge for stealing a valuable ring from me."

      "When did he do it – just now?"

      "Yes," answered Morris, with unexpected audacity. "He looks like a countryman but he is a crook in disguise."

      "Come along, my man!" said the policeman, taking Joshua in tow. "You must come with me."

      "I hain't done nothing," said Joshua. "Please let me go, Mr.

      Policeman."

      "That's what they all say," remarked Morris, shrugging his shoulders.

      "I see, he's an old offender," said the intelligent policeman, who had only been on the force three months.

      "He's one of the most artful crooks I ever met," said Morris. "You'd swear he was a countryman."

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