The boy denied it, of course, but he did not choose to tell all he knew, for he saw that his own situation was a dangerous one; but he demanded that the proof should be produced.

There was an officer present, who thereupon searched the lad for the “queer,” but he acknowledged there wasn’t a penny on him which was not sound.

Tom was kept at the office while another officer went to his lodging-house and ransacked his room.  The result was nil.  This rather stumped the detective, who was acting on the charge of some one else, and he started off, remarking that the business wasn’t done yet, and the best thing the boy could do was to confess.

“I must first have something to confess,” replied Tom, who was excusable for some honest indignation.

“Where is the man who said I was in that business?”

“You’ll meet him in the court-room,” was the significant reply of the detective.

“That’s just where I’d like to meet him, and you too, but you’re afraid to try it.”

“Come, come, young man, you’d better keep a civil tongue in your head, or I’ll jug you as it is.  I’ve enough against you.”

“Why don’t you do it, then?” was Tom’s defiant question; “I’ve learned enough during the last few minutes to understand my rights, and if you think I don’t, now’s the time to test it.”

The officer went out muttering all sorts of things; and Tom, turning to his employer, his breast heaving with indignation, said,—­

“They have been plotting against me ever since I’ve been on the road.  They went with all kinds of stories to you, and now they’ve been trying to make it appear that I am in the counterfeit business.”

“But there must have been something tangible, or that detective would not have come here with the charge.”

“There was something;” and thereupon Tom told the story of the six shining quarters.

His employer was angered, for he saw through it all; and from the description of the donor, he recognized a worthless scamp who had been discharged for stealing some time before Tom went on the route.  The detective was sent for, and the case laid before him.  That night Mr. Dick Horton, who made the charge, was arrested, and in his rooms were found such proofs against him as a counterfeiter that, a few months later, he went to Sing Sing for ten years.

For a time succeeding this incident Tom was left undisturbed in the pursuit of his business, the occurrence becoming pretty generally known and causing much sympathy for him.

It was about a month subsequent that Tom missed his afternoon train down the river, and took another, which left later, not reaching New York till late at night.

[Illustration:  It was a fierce drive.]

As there was nothing for him to do, the train being in the hands of another newsboy, he sat down in the smoking-car, which was only moderately filled.  Directly in front was a man who, he judged from his dress, was a Texan drover, or some returning Californian He was leaning back in the corner of his seat, with his mouth open and his eyes shut, in a way to suggest that he was asleep.