Leaving their baggage on check, the two boys started from Foster's wharf up into the city. They had no idea where the firm of Bartwell & Stone were located, but Earl was certain they could easily be found by consulting a directory. The elder brother was on the point of entering a large store in quest of the book mentioned when Randy pulled his arm and pointed down the street. "There goes a fire engine, Earl!" he cried. "Let's follow it. I should like to see how they manage a fire in a city." Earl was willing, and away they went, easily keeping up with the engine, which had to proceed slowly through the crowded thoroughfare. The fire was in a paint and oil works, and burnt fiercely for over an hour before it was gotten under control. The boys lingered around, watching the movements of the firemen with keen interest, and it was two hours later before Earl caught Randy by the shoulder and hauled him out of the mob of people. "Remember, we're bound for Alaska," he said. "We can't afford to stop at every sight on the way." A few blocks further on a directory was found in a drug store and the address of Bartwell & Stone jotted down. They lost no further time in hunting up the firm of bankers and brokers, who occupied the ground floor of a substantial business structure. "I am Earl Portney," explained Earl, to the clerk who asked them what they wanted. "This is my brother Randolph. Our uncle, Foster Portney, said he would send on some money for us from San Francisco. Has it arrived yet?" "I'll see. Was it a telegraph order?" "I suppose so." The clerk disappeared into an inner apartment, to be gone several minutes. When he came out he was accompanied by a tall, sharp-eyed man in rusty black. "These are not the young men who called for the money," said the man in rusty black. "There must be some mistake here." "Were the other men identified, Mr. Stone?" questioned the clerk, while both Randy and Earl pricked up their ears. "Oh, yes; a clerk from Johnston's restaurant identified them as Earl and Randolph Portney. Besides, they held the original letter which had been sent by their uncle, Foster Portney, from San Francisco." CHAPTER IV. A SERIOUS SET-BACK. Earl and Randy could scarcely believe their ears. What was this gentleman in rusty black saying, that two men had been identified as themselves and had called for the money sent on by their Uncle Foster? "There is a mistake somewhere," said the clerk, turning to the brothers. "You say you are Earl and Randolph Portney?" "We are," both replied, in a breath. "Two men were here not two hours ago and were identified as the ones to receive the money. They had a letter from their uncle, in which he wanted them to come to San Francisco and join him in a trip to Alaska." "That letter was ours!" burst out Earl. "I lost it a couple of days ago." The clerk turned to the elderly gentleman, who looked more serious than ever. "Have you any idea who those men were?" asked the gentleman.