"Where's that?" asked Dick, whose ideas on the subject of geography
were rather vague.

"Up the river."

"How far?"

"About a thousand miles," said Johnny, whose conceptions of distance
were equally vague.

"Go ahead. What did you do then?"

"I hid on top of a freight car, and came all the way without their
seeing me.* That man in the brown coat was the man that got me the
place, and I'm afraid he'd want to send me back."

* A fact.


"Well," said Dick, reflectively, "I dunno as I'd like to live in the
country. I couldn't go to Tony Pastor's or the Old Bowery. There
wouldn't be no place to spend my evenings. But I say, it's tough in
winter, Johnny, 'specially when your overcoat's at the tailor's, an'
likely to stay there."

"That's so, Dick. But I must be goin', or Mr. Taylor'll get somebody
else to shine his boots."

Johnny walked back to Nassau Street, while Dick kept on his way to
Broadway.