"You're in training for an angel, you are. Look out you don't starve though, before your wings sprout. But--let's get to work." The artist selected a number of posters which he hung over a short stick, to each end of which was attached a leather strap. This he slung around Ralph's shoulder, after the manner of a professional bill sticker. Then placing in his hand a bucket of paste, which he had prepared that morning in the car, together with a brush, he inquired: "Think you can find your way round town without getting lost?" Ralph was not certain, but said he would try. "If you get lost, just inquire your way to Main and Third Streets. That's here. Now come on, and I will show you how to stick bills. Don't take long to learn this trade." Ralph followed Mr. Quigg to a vacant wall near by, where he took a large poster, held it flat against the wall with one hand, gave a dexterous swipe or two with the brush, reversed it, then with a few more flourishes drew back and surveyed his work triumphantly. "Try a small one over yonder," he said to the boy. Ralph obeyed instructions in an awkward, though passable manner, whereat the artist looked his approval. "You'll do, I guess. Be careful about the corners. If a corner doubles on you, you're in trouble. I'll fasten up, and run round to the newspapers with a few ads. then finish fixing up. Look sharp; don't get lost, and be back as soon as you can." Ralph took his way down Main Street, feeling, as he expressed it, a good deal like a duck out of water. Presently he stopped at a high board fence and stuck a couple of bills without much trouble. Quigg had not instructed him where and where not to place the posters, and he was pasting a large one against the front of a closed warehouse, when some one at a near by corner called out: "Hey, there! Yo' white boy, there! What are yo' up to?" CHAPTER VII. An Enraged Photographer. Ralph continued his work, thinking some one else was referred to, when he was seized by the shoulder and jerked rudely around. His mountain blood was aflame in an instant, and seeing only that his assailant was a negro boy but little larger than himself, he let drive with his fist and sent the other staggering against the wall. "Gret king!" exclaimed the darky, rubbing his ear, which had received the blow, "What yo' do dat for, anyhow?" "To teach folks to mind their own business," replied Ralph, turning to his half stuck poster again. "P'lice have you, when yo' stick dat up dar. Disher's private proputty." "Can't I stick these wherever I want to?" asked Ralph, in surprise. "Cou'se not. Better tear dat one down." Ralph hesitated, then deeming that in his ignorance of city life, he had better be prudent, he removed the offending poster, then turned to the negro, who still stood angrily looking on. "I'm sorry I hit you," said Ralph. "You see, you took hold of me pretty rough and I--ain't used to it exactly."