A string of heavily-laden drays moved slowly down the rock-paved street. "Lights out! Protect yourself!" thought Steve. "I feel a presentiment that there'll be a heavy transportation bill on that stuff and that my friend won't have enough cash to settle it. Perhaps he will accept a temporary accommodation from me. Thompson, he pays the freight--_nit_!" This unworthy suspicion proved unfounded. As they watched the rumbling wagons they were joined by one of businesslike appearance and swift step. "Going down, Mitchell? That's your Argentine freights, I suppose? At least, I recognize your foreman." Mitchell introduced him: Mr. Archibald, of the Bowring and Archibald line, in the coastwise and southern trade. "Just going down to your place, Archie. We _were_ going to walk, but if you're in a hurry----" "Not at all. Have a cigar?" said the pseudo-Archibald urbanely. "You can show my young friend over the boats, if you will," said Mitchell. "Rank inlander, Thompson. Rather look at a boat than eat. Been talking boat, boat, boat to me ever since we left the office." "Happy to do so," said the merchant-mariner. "You'd better take a little trip with us, Mr. Thompson--say a run down to Havana. Any friend of Mr. Mitchell's----" A young man came tearing across the street at a great rate. "Mitchell!" he shouted. "Mitchell! Look here!" He thrust a telegram into Mitchell's hand. "Just reached me by A.D.T. from the Carlton. Let me have some money, will you? About three thousand. Just got time to catch the next Pennsylvania train and make connections at Baltimore." Mitchell spread out the yellow slip and read it aloud. "H'm! 'Ponce de Leon St Augustine Florida John E Bickford The Carlton New York--Come at once Father worse Doctor orders to Egypt Jennie.' Why sure, my boy. Here's what cash I got, and I'll give you a check. Too bad, too bad! By George, I hope your dad pulls through. What! Blame it, I mean dammit, I've come off without my checkbook. Got yours, Archie?" Archie patted his pockets. "No, I haven't. Left it in the office. Got a couple of hundred cash you're welcome to, though." The young man looked nervously at his watch. Mitchell turned hesitatingly toward Thompson. But the Westerner did not wait for an appeal to his generosity. He volunteered, eager to oblige a man of such large affairs as his substantial friend. "I'll write you a check. You can just run in to the nearest bank with me and indorse it, Mr. Mitchell. Sorry I haven't the cash with me." Thus Steve, his clumsy innocence eluding the toils with all the grace of an agile hippopotamus. The grafters glanced at each other. But Mitchell was equal to the emergency.