At the express office the clerk took the baggage and gave Joe a receipt for it without un- necessary conversation. If he had not been so busy he might have asked some questions, and thus the boys would have been advised as to the proper course to pursue; but as it was, they walked out, little thinking how much they might have learned, and rejoicing that they were freed from a heavy burden. After they had made a very satisfactory breakfast on a pie; which Joe bought for the small sum of ten cents, in consideration of the fact that it was not as fresh as a first-class pie should be, they walked in the direction of the wharves as a first step towards learning how they should get home. It surely seemed as if they had been singularly fortunate in taking this step, for they had gone hardly more than a block when they met a boy about ten years old, who appeared to know all about it. It was not a difficult matter to make his acquaintance, for he met their advances considerably more than half-way, and in a. few moments the three were comfortably seated on some barrels near the pier, discussing the situation. A DISTRICT MESSENGER BOY. CHAPTER II. HOME AGAIN. "You see you have to go up that way to get to New York,!" said the boy, pointing with an air of wisdom, "an' if you fellers want to get home real bad, I'll carry you there tomorrow myself in a boat." "How long would it take you? " asked Joe, just a trifle doubtful as to whether this boy could do as much as he said he could. "Only two or three hours if we have a fair wind." "But we was all night comin' down in the steamer," remarked Joe, quickly. "That's nothin'," said the boy, contemptuously, "for this boat I'm goin' to take you in can sail more'n four times as fast as any steamer you ever saw. Why, she sailed right around Tom Stevens's boat the other day, an' there wasn't any wind at all. I tell you what it is, just you come up here with me an' see her, then you'll know what she can do." There was no reason why the boys should not accept the offer, since they had plenty of time at their disposal, and they started at once. "What's your name?" asked Joe, thinking that perhaps it might be as well to call the boy by his right name, as to be obliged to attract his attention by "I say," or "look here." "Bartholomew West," was the prompt reply, as the boy looked around much as if he expected they had heard of him, and would recognize the name. at once. Not seeing the flush of joy he had expected would lighten up the faces of his acquaintances when they knew who he was, he walked on ahead, much as if he were angry, until they arrived at the end of the street at the water's edge. Bartholomew pointed to a beautiful little yacht that was riding at anchor a short distance from the shore, and said, in a tone of triumph: "That's the boat!"