"What is one trump?" asked the boy, with a puzzled expression. "It is a good feller." This explanation seemed to reconcile Dutchey to being called a trump, and he lay back on the bed with an expression of satisfaction. "Now, Ben, tell us your story." It was Ben, the luggage boy, who was addressed. The question embarrassed him, for he preferred to keep his story secret. He hoped ere long to leave his present haunts and associates, and he did not care to give the latter a clue by which they might trace him in his new character and position. Yet he had no good reason to assign for silence. He was considering what sort of a story he could manufacture, that would pass muster, when he was relieved from further consideration by an unexpected occurrence. It appears that a boy had applied for admission to the rendezvous; but, on account of his unpopular character, had been refused. This naturally incensed him, and he determined to betray the boys to the policeman on the beat. The sight that greeted Ben, as he looked towards the entrance, was the face of the policeman, peering into the apartment. He uttered a half exclamation, which attracted the general attention. Instantly all was excitement. "The copp! the copp!" passed from mouth to mouth. The officer saw that the odds were against him, and he must summon help. He went up the ladder, therefore, and went in search of assistance. The boys scrambled up after him. Some were caught, and ultimately sentenced to the Island, on a charge of stealing the articles which were found; but others escaped. Among these was Ben, who was lucky enough to glide off in the darkness. He took the little German boy under his protection, and managed to get him safely away also. In this case the ends of justice were not interfered with, as neither of the two had been guilty of dishonesty, or anything else rendering them amenable to the law. "Well, Dutchey, we're safe," said Ben, when they had got some blocks away from the wharf. "How do you feel?" "I lose mine breath," said the little boy, panting with the effort he had made. "That's better than losin' your liberty," said Ben. "You'll get your breath back again. Now we must look about and see where we can sleep. I wonder if Jim Bagley's took." Just then a boy came running up. "Why, it's Ben and Dutchey," he said. "Jerry, is it you? I'm glad you're safe." "The copp got a grip of me, but I left my jacket in his hands. He can carry that to the station-house if he wants to." Jerry's appearance corresponded to his statement, his jacket being gone, leaving a dilapidated vest and ragged shirt alone to protect the upper part of his body. He shivered with the cold, for it was now November. "Here, Jerry," said Ben, "just take my vest an' put over yours. I'll button up my coat." "If I was as fat as Dutchey, I wouldn't mind the cold," said Jerry.