“I’m not thinkin’ it,” the old woman said bravely, “but I take it kindly, young masther, that ye should thry an’ make the goin’ easy.  But it isn’t easy, ‘tis a hard returnin’.  An’ me so proud that me son should send for his ould mother.  ’Tis a great country this America, but it’s too big.  I’d niver ’ave lost me Jim in the ould country.  I see they’re callin’ us, an’ I wish ye an ould woman’s blessin’, young masther, for your cheerin’ me at the last.”

With a certain dignity, the old woman turned away and shook hands with all the officials, with whom she had become a favorite during the three weeks of her stay.  Hamilton just ached to be able to do something, to tell the Commissioner of the later telegrams, to appeal to the department, to make some wild effort, but the actuality of the group for deportation slowly making their way to the barge showed him the folly of any such ideas.  He roused himself, just as the friendly official who had been his guide turned round with outstretched hand.

“I think you have seen it all now,” he said, “and as the boat from New York is just pulling in, you’ll have plenty of time to board her.”

Hamilton thanked his conductor warmly, and with a final look at the group about to be deported, the last few stragglers of whom were making their way toward the barge, he started along the wharf in the direction of the New York boat.  He was on the opposite side of the ship and had to walk round, but, as his friend had said, there was plenty of time.  He had a good view of the boat as she landed.

The minute the bow touched the quay, before the mooring chains were on, a middle-aged man who had been standing in the front of the boat, leaped the light chain that runs waist high across the bow, and started on a dead run up the bridge to the shore.  One of the inspectors tried to stop him, but he cried, as he went past: 

“I’m going to the Commissioner’s office.  Don’t stop me.  I’m in a hurry.”

Hamilton could just hear him, and it struck the boy as unnecessary for the man to say he was in a hurry, for he showed it clearly enough.  But just before the runner reached him a sudden thought flashed into the boy’s mind.

“Are you Jim Mahoney?” he called, just as the man swept by.

“Yes,” answered the other, scarcely slackening speed and passing him.

Hamilton wheeled on the instant, and caught up to him in a few steps, for the other man was older, not in training, and getting out of breath.

“You’ll do it, don’t worry,” the boy said, as he overtook him, running along beside him.  “I was talking to your mother a few minutes ago and she was all right.  But she was just starting for the steamer then.  There’s not a second to lose.”

“What shall I do?” puffed the other.

“Go in there, by that door marked ‘Information.’  Tell them who you are and they’ll fix things up in a hurry.  Then go up and see the Commissioner.  I’ll go on and tell them at the boat.”