Waterford was about fifty miles from New York, and the journey consumed two hours. Dean was considerably interested in looking out of the window at the towns along the railroad. But besides this, he scanned the faces of the passengers around him. Just behind him was a boy about his own age, who after a while leaned over and said, "Come back here and sit with me." Dean was of a social disposition, and needed no second invitation. His new acquaintance was a pleasant-looking boy of sixteen, with dark hair and dark eyes, and a bright, alert look. "Where are you going?" he asked. "To New York." "Do you expect to stay there?" "No, I am going to work for a gentleman whom I am to find at French's Hotel." "Yes, I know where that is." "Do you? Then you have the advantage of me. I was never in New York since I was a very little boy." "Oh, it's easy enough to find it. We shall land at the Grand Central Depot. You can take a Fourth Avenue car in front of it, and it'll carry you right by French's Hotel." "Is it far?" "About three miles, I guess." "That's a good distance." "It isn't much in the city. I didn't know you had a place. I was going to ask you to join me." "Why what are you going to do?" Dean asked in some curiosity. "You won't give me away, will you?" "What's that?" "I mean you won't tell my plans to any one?" "Not if you don't want me to." "Then I'm going out West," said the boy, nodding impressively. "You are! Have you got friends there?" "No, I'm going in for a little excitement. I'm going out West to hunt Indians!" and the speaker eyed Dean to see how he was impressed by the declaration. "But what good is that going to do you?" asked Dean, perplexed. "Oh, there'll be no end of excitement. It'll show what I am made of. I shouldn't wonder if some writer would make a story out of my adventures." "But suppose the Indians should hunt you?" suggested Dean. "I must take my chance of that," answered the boy loftily. "If there wasn't any risk, there wouldn't be any excitement or glory." "Are your folks willing you should go?" queried Dean. "No; they don't know where I am. I left home on the sly." "Won't they worry about you?" "Just at first, but I shall write to them when I am far enough away. They'll be proud enough of me, when they read about my exploits. Maybe there'll be a play written about me. When I get home I shouldn't mind going round, playing in it myself. Have you got any money?" "No, only my fare to New York and a quarter over." "Then it would be no use for you to go with me. It'll take money to get out West, and to pay for a gun and ammunition. I shall get them at Chicago, I think." "Have you considerable money with you?" Dean ventured to inquire. "A little over a hundred dollars. You see I had that much in the Savings Bank. It's presents I've got from different persons in the last five years. I drew it all out a day or two since, and decided to start out in search of glory."