Kinney sits next to me at Joyce & Carboy’s, the woollen manufacturers, where I am a stenographer, and Kinney is a clerk, and we both have rooms at Mrs. Shaw’s boarding-house.  Kinney is only a year older than myself, but he is always meeting with adventures.  At night, when I have sat up late reading law, so that I may fit myself for court reporting, and in the hope that some day I may become a member of the bar, he will knock at my door and tell me some surprising thing that has just happened to him.  Sometimes he has followed a fire-engine and helped people from a fire-escape, or he has pulled the shield off a policeman, or at the bar of the Hotel Knickerbocker has made friends with a stranger, who turns out to be no less than a nobleman or an actor.  And women, especially beautiful women, are always pursuing Kinney in taxicabs and calling upon him for assistance.  Just to look at Kinney, without knowing how clever he is at getting people out of their difficulties, he does not appear to be a man to whom you would turn in time of trouble.  You would think women in distress would appeal to some one bigger and stronger; would sooner ask a policeman.  But, on the contrary, it is to Kinney that women always run, especially, as I have said, beautiful women.  Nothing of the sort ever happens to me.  I suppose, as Kinney says, it is because he was born and brought up in New York City and looks and acts like a New York man, while I, until a year ago, have always lived at Fairport.  Fairport is a very pretty harbor, but it does not train one for adventures.  We arranged to take our vacation at the same time, and together.  At least Kinney so arranged it.  I see a good deal of him, and in looking forward to my vacation, not the least pleasant feature of it was that everything connected with Joyce & Carboy and Mrs. Shaw’s boarding-house would be left behind me.  But when Kinney proposed we should go together, I could not see how, without being rude, I could refuse his company, and when he pointed out that for an expedition in search of adventure I could not select a better guide, I felt that he was right.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I can see you don’t believe that half the things I tell you have happened to me, really have happened.  Now, isn’t that so?”

To find the answer that would not hurt his feelings I hesitated, but he did not wait for my answer.  He seldom does.

“Well, on this trip,” he went on, “you will see Kinney on the job.  You won’t have to take my word for it.  You will see adventures walk up and eat out of my hand.”

Our vacation came on the first of September, but we began to plan for it in April, and up to the night before we left New York we never ceased planning.  Our difficulty was that having been brought up at Fairport, which is on the Sound, north of New London, I was homesick for a smell of salt marshes and for the sight of water and ships.  Though they were only schooners carrying cement, I wanted to sit in the sun on the string-piece