Joe's Luck; Or, Always Wide Awake. Alger Horatio Jr.

They come around and pull my bell, and run away, the villians!"

      "What's the matter, my boy?" asked a tall man with sandy hair, addressing himself to Joe in a friendly tone.

      "This man says I broke his window."

      "How was it? Did you break it?"

      "No, sir. I was standing looking in, when a stone came from somewhere and broke it."

      "Look here, sir," said the sandy-haired man, addressing himself to the German, "what reason have you for charging this boy with breaking your window?"

      "He stood shoost in front of it," said the German.

      "If he had broken it, he would have run away. Didn't that occur to you?"

      "Some one broke mine window," said the German.

      "Of course; but a boy who threw a stone must do so from a distance, and he wouldn't be likely to run up at once to the broken window."

      "Of course not. The man's a fool!" were the uncomplimentary remarks of the bystanders, who a minute before had looked upon Joe as undoubtedly guilty.

      "You've got no case at all," said Joe's advocate. "Let go the boy's collar, or I shall advise him to charge you with assault and battery."

      "Maybe you one friend of his?" said the German.

      "I never saw the boy before in my life," said the other, "but I don't want him falsely accused."

      "Somebody must pay for my window."

      "That's fair; but it must be the boy or man that broke it, not my young friend here, who had no more to do with it than myself. I sympathize with you, and wish you could catch the scamp that did it."

      At that moment a policeman came up.

      "What's the matter?" he asked.

      "My window was broke—dat's what's de matter."

      "Who broke it?" asked the policeman.

      "I caught dat boy standing outside," pointing to Joe.

      "Aha, you young rascal! I've caught you, have I? I've had my eye on you for weeks!"

      And Joe, to his dismay, found himself collared anew.

      "I've only been in the city two days," said Joe.

      "Take him to jail!" exclaimed the German.

      And the policeman was about to march off poor Joe, when a voice of authority stayed him.

      "Officer, release that boy!" said the sandy-haired man sternly.

      "I'll take you along, too, if you interfere."

      "Release that boy!" repeated the other sternly; "and arrest the German for assault and battery. I charge him with assaulting this boy!"

      "Who are you?" demanded the officer insolently.

      "My name is –, and I am one of the new police commissioners," said the sandy-haired man quietly.

      Never was there a quicker change from insolence to fawning.

      "Oh, I beg your pardon, sir," said the officer, instantly releasing Joe. "I didn't know you."

      "Nor your duty, either, it appears," said the commissioner sternly. "Without one word of inquiry into the circumstances, you were about to arrest this boy. A pretty minister of justice you are!"

      "Shall I take this man along, sir?" asked the policeman, quite subdued.

      At this suggestion the bulky Teuton hurried into his shop, trembling with alarm. With great difficulty he concealed himself under the counter.

      "You may let him go this time. He has some excuse for his conduct, having suffered loss by the breaking of his window. As for you, officer, unless you are more careful in future, you will not long remain a member of the force."

      The crowd disappeared, only Joe and his advocate remaining behind.

      "I am grateful to you, sir, for your kindness," said Joe. "But for you I should have been carried to the station-house."

      "It is fortunate I came along just as I did. Are you a stranger in the city?"

      "Yes, sir."

      "You must be careful not to run into danger. There are many perils in the city for the in experienced."

      "Thank you, sir. I shall remember your advice."

      The next day, about two hours before the time of sailing, Joe went down to the wharf.

      As he was going on board a man stopped him.

      "Have you got a ticket?" he asked.

      "Yes, sir," said Joe, "a steerage ticket. There it is."

      "Where did you get this?" asked the man.

      Joe told him.

      "How much did you pay for it?"

      "Fifty dollars."

      "Then you have lost your money, for it is a bogus ticket. You can't travel on it."

      Joe stared at the other in blank dismay. The earth seemed to be sinking under him. He realized that he had been outrageously swindled, and that he was farther from going to California than ever.

      CHAPTER VIII

JOE'S LUCK CHANGES

      The intelligence that his ticket was valueless came to Joe like a thunderbolt from a clear sky. The minute before he was in high spirits—his prospects seemed excellent and his path bright.

      "What shall I do?" he ejaculated.

      "I can't tell you," said the officer. "One thing is clear—you can't go to California on that ticket."

      Poor Joe! For the moment hope was dead within his breast. He had but one dollar left and that was only half the amount necessary to carry him back to the village where we found him at the commencement of our story. Even if he were able to go back, he felt he would be ashamed to report the loss of his money. The fact that he had allowed himself to be swindled mortified him not a little. He would never hear the last of it if he returned to Oakville.

      "No; I wouldn't go back if I could," he decided.

      "Wouldn't I like to get hold of the man that sold me the ticket!"

      He had hardly given mental expression to this wish when it was gratified. The very man passed him and was about to cross the gangplank into the steamer. Joe's eyes flashed, and he sprang forward and seized the man by the arm.

      The swindler's countenance changed when he recognized Joe, but he quickly decided upon his course.

      "What do you want, Johnny?" he asked composedly.

      "What do I want? I want my fifty dollars back."

      "I don't know what you are talking about."

      "You sold me a bogus ticket for fifty dollars," said Joe stoutly.

      "Here it is. Take it back and give me my money."

      "The boy must be crazy," said the swindler.

      "Did you sell him that ticket?" inquired the officer.

      "Never saw him before in my life."

      "Ain't you mistaken, boy?" asked the officer.

      "No, sir. This is the very man."

      "Have you any business here?" asked the officer.

      "Yes," said the man; "I've taken a steerage ticket to San Francisco.

      Here it is."

      "All right. Go in."

      He tore himself from Joe's grasp and went on board the steamer. Our hero, provoked, was about to follow him, when the officer said:

      "Stand back! You have no ticket."

      "That man bought his ticket with my money."

      "That is nothing to me," said the officer. "It may be so, or you may be mistaken."

      "I am not mistaken," said Joe.

      "You can report it to the police—that is, if you think you can prove