And Skinny in reply told him the whole story of the dark-bearded man, who had summoned him to his office, and sent him away to the shore of the great inland lake, simply to get information about Mary Decker and her son, if son she had. Skinny’s recital occupied nearly a quarter of an hour, for he stretched it so as to include his adventures while on the road from New York, and the circumstances which had led to his becoming what he called a haymaker. Bruce listened intently to every word the boy uttered, and questioned him narrowly in regard to Mr. Korwein and his motive in entrusting him with such a strange commission. Of course Skinny could not account for the man’s motives, and, indeed, that was something he had not troubled himself about. It was enough to him that his employer wished to obtain certain information, and was willing to pay for it. So long as he could be well paid for his work he did not concern himself about people’s motives, or ask what would be done with the information which he supplied. But he did not neglect to mention the fact that in telling as much as he had, he had betrayed his employer, and he warned his friend to keep strictly to himself all that he had told him. Bruce readily agreed to this, and then, as the afternoon had already merged into twilight, they returned to the village, Skinny, passing on to Mr. Wolcott’s house and Bruce going to that of the friends whom he was visiting. The following evening the two boys met again by agreement, and, with his friends assistance, Skinny composed and sent to his employer in New York the following letter: “MR. KORWEIN— DEAR SIR:—I went up to the cemetery yesterday, and seen the grave, which had on it Sacred to the memory of Mary, wife of Frank Decker. Born Dec. 1st, 1855, Died Sept. 5th, 1877. There wasn’t no other graves of any folks named Decker. I am still on the farm. No more at present. From SKINNY.” Then he entrusted to Bruce his employer’s address and bade him good-bye with a parting injunction not to let the man know where he learned of him; and with this address in his pocket, Bruce climbed aboard a New York train, said good-bye to a number of admiring villagers who accompanied him to the depot and was borne away toward New York, while the street boy walked slowly back to the Wolcott’s. [Illustration: Skinny writes a letter to Mr. Korwein.—_Page 270._]