Frank stood waiting for the return of the policeman, a vivid picture of his rescuer in his mind. The boy had worn a cap pulled far down over his eyes. He seemed young, yet Frank recalled that he wore a moustache. “I’d like to give him something for saving me the loss of all that money,” said Frank. “The poor fellow looked as if he needed it. Any trace of the man, sir?” “No,” answered the policeman, coming back from a fruitless search. “Better keep nearer the lights, young fellow. All kinds of rough characters hang around here, on the lookout for somebody to rob.” Frank walked with the policeman to the depot rotunda. He stayed outside, however. Once or twice he walked the whole breadth of the rotunda, peering down the passenger tracks and wishing he could find the boy who had beaten off the thief. “There is some one now,” suddenly exclaimed Frank to himself. He made a dash down a lonely platform and ran across a couple of tracks. “Yes, it’s him,” declared Frank. “Hey, just a minute. Why, what are you running away from me for?” The person Frank was after had started up quickly at the first hail. Frank overtook him, cornering him where some milk cars blocked the way south. The strange boy braced back against the side of a car, pulled his cap down further over his eyes, and said. “Want me?” “Sure, I want you,” cried Frank spiritedly. “First, to shake hands with you and thank you for your bravery in my behalf.” “Oh, that wasn’t anything,” observed the strange boy. “No, only the saving of all the money I’ve got in the world,” retorted Frank. He shook the boy’s hand warmly. The latter at last slightly returned the hand pressure, but kept looking about him furtively and uneasily. “By the way,” said Frank, “what was that you hit that man with?” “A loose-jointed ventilator slide bar I found on top of the coach.” “And, if I may ask, what was you ever doing perched up there?” “Well, if you must know, I was waiting for the train to start out. In fact,” confessed the speaker in a low, constrained tone, “beating my way, stealing a ride.” “Where to?” asked Frank. “Oh--anywhere, anywhere away from the city.” The boy said this in such a forlorn way that Frank felt there was some pathetic cause for the despair expressed. “You ran away from the policeman, too,” suggested Frank. “Yes, he wouldn’t have much use for my kind,” observed the boy. Frank was silent for a moment, intensely studying as far as the dim light would allow the figure and face of his companion. “What’s your name?” he asked suddenly. “My name--oh,” sort of stammered the boy, “why, it’s Markham.” “Well, Markham,” said Frank very kindly, placing a gentle hand on the lad’s arm, “you and I should be good friends. Don’t edge away from me. You say you were trying to get out of the city. Had you no idea of where you were bound for?”