And so it was Peter Strong who bore the sorry tidings to Nat's mother, and who cheered and encouraged her as affectionately as if he had been her own son; it was also Peter who, during the weeks that followed, paid the Jacksons' rent and provided sufficient funds for living expenses. How he blessed his motorcycle savings! Without them he never could have helped Nat at this time when help was so sorely needed. Far from begrudging the money Peter exulted in spending it. A motorcycle seemed singularly unimportant when contrasted with a crisis like this. Yet magnificent as his little fortune had seemed it dwindled rapidly. How much everything cost! How had Nat ever managed to keep soul and body together on what he earned? Peter's savings melted like the snows before the warm spring sunshine, and one day the lad awoke to the fact that there was no more money in the bank and that Nat's mother was absolutely dependent for food upon his daily earnings. It was a new sensation and a startling one--to know that you must work--that if you stopped some one dear to you would go hungry. Poor Peter! He now had a spur indeed--an incentive to toil as he never had toiled before! Stuart was delighted with his recently acquired pupil. "He is as steady a little chap as you would care to see," he told Bryant when they met in the yard one day. "And he is bright as a button, too. Already he has caught on to the various finishing processes and is as handy as any of the men in the department. And then he is such a well spoken lad; not like many of the boys who come into the tannery. He must have come of good family. Do you know anything about his people?" "Not a thing. I've heard that Mr. Coddington got him his job in the first place, but that may not be true; I think, though, it is more than likely, because they have pushed him ahead faster than is customary. But at any rate the boy has made good, no matter who started him. He will be at the top of the ladder yet." Peter Strong, however, was not thinking at the present time of the top of the ladder. His mind was entirely set upon relieving the worry of his sick chum and providing the necessary comforts for Mrs. Jackson. Only on Saturdays had he time to go to the hospital and see Nat; but he wrote long letters--jolly, cheery letters, which he dashed off every night before going to bed. "About every man in the tannery has inquired for you, Nat," he wrote, "and pretty soon I am going to charge a fee for information. Your mother is all right, and declares that she now has two sons instead of one. You better hurry up and come home, or she may decide she likes me better than she does you!" How Nat laughed when he read that message! The very idea!