In less than ten seconds the fellow had disappeared from view. The brakeman extended his hand to his companion. "I have wronged you," he said. "That's what I told you," replied Al, quietly, "but you wouldn't take my word for it." "I hope you'll accept my apology." "Of course I will; and you must accept your money back." And the boy handed his companion a ten-dollar bill. "I hope you don't feel hard toward me?" persisted the man. "Not at all," Al responded, readily. "You were very kind to offer me the money at the depot. I was a perfect stranger to you." "But I sized you up as a square lad." "It didn't take you long to change your mind, though." "You must admit that I had some reason to change it." "I do admit it. Appearances were very much against me, and if I had been in your place I should, very likely, have thought just what you did." "Nevertheless, I'm sorry I was so hasty. Now, see here, young fellow, I've taken a liking to you--honest, I have. I'd like to help you. Now, I have an idea that you are in some sort of trouble." "You are not far out of the way there," admitted the boy. "Of course, it's none of my business, and I'm not one of the sort that cares much about other people's affairs; but--but what is your trouble? I only ask, thinking that I may be able to help you in some way." Al hesitated, then said: "I need help badly enough, but I don't see what you could do. However, I will tell you why I am in New York." In a few words he told the story of his sister's abduction. When he explained why he had left the depot so suddenly his companion interrupted him. "Why," he cried, excitedly, "I saw the cab that you wanted to follow! I can tell you just where you can find its driver, too." "You can?" "Yes. As it happens, he is an old friend of mine, and there isn't much that he won't do for me. He drives for a stable up on Fifth Avenue, but he ought to be home by this time. I can get a good deal more information out of him than they would give you if you went up to the stables. Do you want to go round to his house with me now and see if he is in?" "Is it far from here?" "Not ten minutes' walk." "Let us go, then. But, perhaps, we ought to go to a police station first." "We shall pass one on our way there. Come on; I'll bet that you won't be sorry you met me." Within five minutes Al had given a description of his sister to the police, and an alarm was about to be sent out when he left the station. "Now, to see my friend, Tim Story," said the brakeman, "who, if I am not mistaken, will be able to give us as much information in five minutes as the police will gain in twenty-four hours." Tim Story's home proved to be a floor in a West-Side tenement. The cabman had just returned home, and did not seem to be in a very communicative mood. But in a few minutes Al's new friend had obtained information from him that gave the boy a new hope. "We have found her!" he exclaimed. "How can I thank you?"