“Oh, let us keep it from him just as long as possible,” broke in Sam, entreatingly.  “Why, Dick, you haven’t any idea how run down he is, and how nervous!”

“Oh, yes, I have, Sam.  And that is what is worrying me.  I don’t know if we are doing right to keep this from him.”

“Before we tell him anything, let us consult Uncle Randolph and Aunt Martha,” said Tom.  “If they know the truth, that will lift a little of the responsibility from our shoulders.”

“I am not going to tell any of them—­ at least, not for a week or so longer,” returned Dick.  “I am living in hope every day that we’ll get some kind of a clew.”

It had rained hard the day previous, but now the sky was clear.  With but little to do in the offices that afternoon after three o’clock, the Rover boys took a walk up Broadway from Wall Street to where the Outlook Hotel was located.

“It certainly is a busy city,” was Tom’s comment, as they came to a temporary halt in front of the post-office.  “Just look at the stream of humanity and the cars and wagons, not to speak of the automobiles.”

“What takes my eye, is the size of so many of these buildings,” declared Sam.  “Say, maybe an earthquake around here wouldn’t do some damage!”

“And to think of the way the people travel!” broke in Dick.  “They are down in the ground, on the street, and up in the air,” and he smiled a little at the thought.

Walking past the post-office, the three youths entered City Hall Park, crossing the same to look at some of the bulletin boards put out by the newspapers located on Park Row.

“Hello!” cried Tom, suddenly; and caught each of his brothers by the arm.

“What now, Tom?” asked Dick, quickly.

“See that fellow over there, leaning against the fence, reading a newspaper?”

“Why, I declare!  It is Barton Pelter!” ejaculated Sam.

“You mean Jesse Pelter’s nephew—­ the chap you hauled out of the river?” questioned Dick.

“The same,” returned Tom.  “Say, I think I’ll go over and talk to him,” he added, quickly.

“He may not want to talk to you, Tom,” interposed his younger brother.

“I’ll risk it;” and so speaking, Tom stepped forward and advanced to where the other youth was busy looking over the sporting edition of one of the afternoon sheets.

“What is it?  I don’t seem to remember you,” said Barton Pelter, when Tom touched his arm.

“I am Tom Rover,” was the reply.  “This is my brother Sam, and this my brother Dick;” and Tom pointed to the others, who were coming up.

“Oh, is that so!” returned Barton Pelter, and put out his hand.  “I am glad to see you,” he continued, somewhat hesitatingly.  “Is this the one who helped to pull me out of the river?” and he nodded towards Sam.

“Yes.”

“I am certainly very much obliged to both of you,” continued the young man, and his face showed that he meant what he said.  “If it hadn’t been for you, I might have been drowned.  I suppose you—­ er—­ you—­ er—­ got my letter?”