homes; who have abruptly and alone struck out for themselves in the ocean
of a great city without a single lesson in swimming; who have felt
themselves seized from below and dragged downward toward the deep-lying
feeding-grounds of Poverty and Failure.

"Buck up, old man," said Kittredge to whom he told his bad news after
several days of hesitation and after Kittredge had shown him that he
strongly suspected it. "Don't mind old Bowring. You're sure to get on, and,
if you insist upon the folly, in this profession. I'll give you a note to
Montgomery--he's City Editor over at the _World_-shop--and he'll take
you on. In some ways you will do better there. You'll rise faster, get a
wider experience, make more money. In fact, this shop has only one
advantage. It does give a man peace of mind. It's more like a club than an
office. But in a sense that is a drawback. I'll give you a note to-night.
You will be at work over there to-morrow."

"I think I'll wait a few days," said Howard, his tone corresponding to the
look in his eyes and the compression of his resolute mouth.

The next day but one Mr. Bowring called him up to the City Desk and gave
him a newspaper-clipping which read:

"Bald Peak, September 29--Willie Dent, the three-year-old baby
of John Dent, a farmer living two miles from here, strayed away
into the mountains yesterday and has not been seen since. His
dog, a cur, went with him. Several hundred men are out searching.
It has been storming, and the mountains are full of bears
and wild cats."

"Yes, I saw this in the _Herald_," said Howard.