“Then to chail!” said Shuder. “Well--I wanted it,” said Lem reluctantly, and suddenly he broke down and began to ay. “I wanted to go to pop. I wanted to go to him. He said I could go where he is.” “Rosa, hush!” said Shuder when his wife tried to speak again, and he began patiently, and with the little English he could command, to comfort Lem and let him know nothing dire was to happen to him. Slowly, Lem's fear of some mysterious fate was lessened, and again and again he heard that Shuder, too, wished to find Saint Harvey. Not to harm him, Shuder assured Lem; only to get a “paper” that Saint Harvey had forgotten to leave. The importance of this paper to Shuder loomed vast as the Jew spoke of it again and again. In spite of his fear and hatred, Lem felt that the “paper” was something Shuder should not be robbed of--that it was some sort of Magna Charta of his life which Harvey had carried away by mistake. “You won't get a policeman after me?” Lem begged. “Sure, no! I gif you right by it. Sure, no!” “Well, I ain't goin' to tell you. Pop he told me not to tell. But I can't help it if you go where I go, can I?” “Nobody could,” said Shuder. “How could you?” “Well, then, you let me go an' I'll go. I'll go right where he told me to, because that's what he said for me to do. And I can't help it if you follow me. Only you better get ready to walk a long ways, because it's sixty miles, I guess. Anyway, I guess it is.” Shuder stroked his beard. “Could a man go by the railroad?” “Sure he could, if he had the money. Was n't that what I wanted some junk for--to sell it, so I could go on the train? But I have n't got any money. So I got to walk.” “Mebby I should pay,” said Shuder. Lem considered this. “I guess that's all right,” he said, “if you want to. We'd get there sooner, anyway.” Lem would not, however, tell where they were to go even then, and the next morning Shuder had to press close behind the boy at the ticket window to overhear him ask for a ticket to Burlington. He sat beside the boy all the way, too, never moving far from him even when they changed cars at the junction. At noon he fed Lem from the lunch Rosa had provided, and he bought Lem two apples from the train-boy. Shuder was close behind the boy when Lem asked at the post-office window for a letter for Lemuel Redding. Although he could not read, he peered over Lem's shoulder as Lem read the letter the clerk handed out. “Pa ain't here no more,” said Lem, looking up at Shuder. “He's gone somewheres.” Shuder grasped the letter from Lem's hand and stared at it, turning it over and over. “Please, misder,” he begged of a man who passed, “you should read this to me.” The man took the letter.