And now let us return to the newsboy, and trace his footsteps from the time he left his benefactor on the corner of Broadway. He stood on the street corner watching with his small, sharp eyes the street car until it was out of sight, then he turned and trudged on to Third Avenue, where he swung himself on board another car and was carried down to the lower part of the city. He went direct to the lodging-house, and, as the superintendent had said, told what was regarded at the time as an invention of his own, about his mishap at the fire, and his experience in the hospital, and was finally allowed to become a lodger for a short time on credit. He said nothing about the four dollars and twenty-two cents that Bruce had loaned him, and which he still had in his pocket. He had already determined to devote that sum to a special purpose, and to depend upon what he could pick up by selling newspapers or running errands to defray his expenses. He had often slept and eaten in the lodging house before, and, when the boys came trooping in just before supper time, there were many among them who knew him and came over to ask him where he had been. The general opinion among the boys, and it was shared by the superintendent also, was that Skinny had been sent to Blackwell’s Island for some misdemeanor, and had simply invented the hospital and fire story to shield his good name. “Dat’s what happens to me fer goin’ ter work reg’lar,” said the boy to himself. “Before I was in dat factory a day it took fire, an’ I hadn’t even had de time to learn de way out.” That night the boy sat down to supper with a hundred or more lads representing a dozen races and nationalities and innumerable callings, though the bulk of them made their living by selling newspapers and blacking boots. Supper over, they repaired to a big schoolroom on the floor above, and there, with slates and pencils and spelling books, endeavored to master the rudiments of an education. Skinny sat down at his desk with the others, and for an hour worked diligently. But every once in a while the remembrance of his friend, the fireman, would come into his mind. He knew intuitively that Bruce was interested in the young girl who had come to see him, and the tall, dark man who must be, the boy reasoned, connected with her in some way. He would make it his business to seek out this man, and all that he could learn about him he would place at the service of his new friend.