"What about the others?" "The mate, Tom Blossom, is nice, too. The man we all hate is Peter Polk, the purser." "What's the matter with him?" "Well, between you and me, I think he is a sneak." "In what way?" "He is always making trouble for somebody. Nobody seems to like him much, although he attends strictly to business." "I hope I don't have trouble with Mr. Polk." "Well, you will have to watch yourself." Several other landings were made, and promptly at the appointed time the _Helen Shalley_ swung into her dock at New York City and the remaining passengers went ashore. Then began the labor of unloading the baggage and freight, after which the deck was swabbed up, the brass-work polished, and such baggage as was at hand taken on board for transportation up the river the next day. When he had finished his day's labors Randy was tired and perfectly willing to rest for a while. He had had a good supper and might have gone directly to bed, but instead he sat up to write a letter to the folks at home, telling his father and mother of his day's experience. Our hero had to go ashore to post the communication, and once out in the street he resolved to take a little walk around before returning to the steamboat. He was soon walking along West Street, and then took to a side street running up to the avenues. Now, although our hero did not know it, he had chosen one of the worst streets in this part of the great city. It was filled with tenements and groggeries of the lowest description, and the sidewalks swarmed with all sorts of low characters. He had scarcely walked two squares before a rough-looking fellow jostled him. The next instant Randy felt a hand in his pocket. "Stop that!" cried Randy. But the fellow was already running up the street. Our hero clapped his hand in the pocket and discovered that eighty cents in change was missing. "I am not going to lose that money!" he told himself, with vigor. "I may be a greeny, but I'll give that thief some trouble." At first he thought to cry out, but then reconsidered the matter and remained silent. He set off after the thief, and away went man and boy along the crowded thoroughfare. The man evidently thought he could lose himself in the crowd, but by the aid of the street lights, Randy kept him in sight. He passed along for two blocks and then turned into a side street and then into a blind alley. Our hero managed to keep him in view and saw him spring up the steps of a dilapidated tenement house. The man ran through the lower hallway and into the back yard, piled high with rubbish of all kinds. Here he hid behind some empty boxes. Randy was soon in the yard and gazing around eagerly. As he did so he saw a thin and pale girl of about ten standing near. Soon she came up to him timidly. "Did you see a man run in here?" said Randy. "Yes," she answered, but in a hesitating voice. "Where did he go?" "I don't dare tell you," whispered the girl. "Why not?" "That is Bill Hosker."