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By Sheer Pluck, a Tale of the Ashanti War by G. A. (George Alfred) Henty
page 69 of 326 (21%)
"I have no one in the world," Frank answered, "whom I could ask to
give me a helping hand."

"Well, you are a plucky chap," the man said. "That would be a knock
down blow to a man, let alone a boy like you. What are you going
to do now?" he asked, forgetting for the moment his own loss, in
his interest in his companion.

"I don't know," Frank replied. "Perhaps," he added, seeing that the
interest in his condition roused the poor fellow from the thought
of his own deep sorrow, "you might give me some advice. I was thinking
of getting a place in an office, but of course I must give that up
now, and should be thankful to get anything by which I can earn my
bread."

"You come along with me," the man said rising. "You've done me
a heap of good. It's no use sitting here. I shall go back to the
station, and turn in on some sacks. If you've nothing better to
do, and nowhere to go to, you come along with me. We will talk it
all over."

Pleased to have some one to talk to, and glad that he should not
have to look for a place to sleep, Frank accompanied the porter to
the station. With a word or two to the nightmen on duty, the porter
led the way to a shed near the station, where a number of sacks
were heaped in a corner.

"Now," the man said, "I will light a pipe. It's against the
regulations, but that's neither here nor there now. Now, if you're
not sleepy, would you mind talking to me? Tell me something about
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