“Yes, sir,” answered Wayne. “We’re going to New York, but our money gave out and we’ve been trying to earn enough to go on with.” “That straight goods?” “Yes, sir, it’s the truth, really.” “Well, all right. Stay where you are tonight, kids, but you’ll have to get out tomorrow. This is private property and I can’t have you trespassing. You’d be welcome to stay as long as you liked if I had the say, but I haven’t. So don’t let me find you here tomorrow night or I’ll have to run you in. Good night, boys.” The lantern’s glare vanished and the policeman’s steps went crunching off on the cinders. CHAPTER V WAYNE PARTS WITH SAM There was no breakfast the next morning other than copious draughts of water from the tank in the station waiting-room. At least, there was none for the boys; Sam found an ancient crust of bread along the track and made the most of it. At a little after eight they parted, agreeing to meet uptown at noon so that should one or the other have earned any money they might eat. Wayne’s ill luck stayed with him and at a little after twelve he sought the corner near the post office and found June already on hand. June had the enormous sum of twenty cents, earned by carrying a drummer’s sample cases from store to store for a period of well over an hour, and it took the boys something less than two minutes to find a lunch-room and climb to a couple of stools. Wayne was for conserving half their fortune, but when June’s eyes rolled covetously at the good things displayed, and June earnestly assured him of his ability to earn more money that afternoon, Wayne recklessly consented to the spending of the whole amount. The fact that he was every bit as hungry as June had a good deal to do with his change of mind. That lunch tasted awfully good. Also, as June remarked wistfully, it tasted “moreish.” But their money was exhausted and they parted again at the lunch-room door and went their separate ways. How many flights of stairs he climbed that afternoon, how many doors he opened, how many blocks of hard pavement he trod, Wayne didn’t know, but even Sam showed evidences of exhaustion when, at twilight, downhearted and despairing, boy and dog returned to the shed by the railroad track. “I reckon,” Wayne confided, “you and I are hoodooed, Sam. Reckon there isn’t anything for us to do but just slink back home the best way we can, old chap.” And Sam, trotting along beside him, raised understanding eyes and wagged the stump of his tail sympathetically.