33"”??ii 7'7" “V l .-\,—:-J @g’s‘é’e, am :A‘5 643% vafi d n; my 110,-; “mm, M x..“- York, .\. \’ Iu‘ s‘w-uml Cl l Muil Mather Jan.11,1886. 2. Published W kl b l (1 Adams Vol. IV. go‘wsezngmggt’fifigm ’ No.40. SMART SIM, The lad With a Level Head; °" “svzzyrnmw BY EDWARD WILLET'I‘, AUTHOR OF “WIDE-AWAKE GEORGE, THE BOY PIONEER,” ma, ETC ETC. ‘__.4‘.. mamas A 13110me wmnow. Loon» on u was sunny mam:- “mz vow ALIVE. 5151?”.31: (numb out. . Smart Sim. the Lad with the Level Head.» Smart Sim, THE LAD WITH A LEV 9L HEAD; o , Two Boys Who Were ' Bo anced.’ BY EDWARD WILI ET'l‘, AUTHOI or ‘WIDE-AWAKE em BGE, THE BOY momma,” ETC., E'. 0. CHAPTER I. A moor AND A SMASH. A 301 of fifteen was napping it in the emi- grant car of a railway train that was speeding across the State of Illinois. He was not at all an ill—looking young follow, as he slept there, with his head uneasily reclim ing in a corner, and his mouth wide open. He had 1i ht hair and a clear complexion, and did not 100 as if he had been extruvagzmtly fed. His clothes, common in quality, were rusty and worn. Suddenly he awoke, startled out of his sleep by some bad dream, or a severe jolliug of the car. Then it could be seen by the dim light of the railway lamp, that he had a bright face, and was quick and alert in his motions. “ Where‘s Uncle Amos?” he muttered, as ho rubbed his eyes and looked at the empty seat by his side. He got up and went through the car, peering closely at all the men who were awake and asleep. Then he came back, looking rather disconsolate. “ I’d like to know what has become of Uncle Amos,” he said, as he resumed his seat. A boy stepped up and took the empty seat at his side. He seemed to he somewhat older than the lad who had lost his “Uncle Amos,” er- haps a year or so older. At least, he he an older look on his face. Hls clothes were ragged. and his general appearance was that of a. street vagabond. But he had a pleasant face, in spite of his snub nose, and he spoke kindly to the younger boy. “ Was you lookin’ fur the man who sot here?” he asked. “ es,” replied the other, “ and I can’t find him.” “ Ivfuess you won’t see him no more.” “ but do you mean by that?” “ l heerd him tell my man. a while ago, that he was goin’ to drop on, and he got ofl a sta- tion or two back, an he didn’t git on ag’in. I guess you’re dropped.” “ me!” exclaimed the bereaved boy. " Dro me! I reckon he had better look out what e’s droppin’. If I’d known he had any such notion as that, I’d ha’ dropped him mighty sudden.” “ ’Sted 0’ that, he got the drop on you. Is he your dad?” “No: he is my Uncle Amos. He told me that he had got tired of keepin’ me, and was ‘ started. I guess my man ain’t frettin n’ to take me West. to my Uncle Ephr’im. we started, 0. here I am:, I “He told Juan that he guessed he had l took you about far enough, and would go back and let you slide on. He said that my man might have you if he wanted; but my man laughed and said he’d got boys enough to ’tend to. What’s your name, bub?” “Sim Brattle, and I came from C’natta. Wha L’s yours?” “ Bill Yards.” “That’s a jolly queer name.” “Yes; it makes a teller think of Bill Pool, who was shot.” “Was your daddy called Front Yards, or Back Yards?” “ I guess he must ha’ been called Stock Yards as he was a butcher. But he’s dead long ago, and I don‘t belong to nobody. I was took up in New York by some sort of a’ciety, and they sent a lot of us hoys West to grow up with the country. They meant to play me off on the farmers, as if the farmers don’t have a hard enough time! But, I dropped my man where your uncle dropped you. I got off the train with him and the rest of the boys, but sneaked around the car. and jumped on ag’in, jist as it his life out about it, though." “ What’s his name?" added Sim Brattle. “ His name is Quigg. and he’s a pig.” “ That’s a rhyme. What‘s his business?” “ He said it was Phil—that’s the fust name. The second was a woman’s name—yes, it was Aim ;—Phil Ann—the rest of it was Dutch, I guess.” “You lon't mean to say, Bill, that he was a philanthropist?" " that’s the name. Ain’t it a Whopper?” It’s lucky that you dropped him. I have h ird that those chaps are mighty rough With 1) ys when they git their clamps on them. V here are you goin’ now‘l” “ As far as these cars will carry me.” “ What will you do wiflu you git there?” “If we fetch up in St. Louis, as I guess we ' ill, I can finrl shoes to black and papers to sell ', st the same as in New York.” “But I don’t know how to black shoes and sell papers,” demurred Sim. “ Oh, it’s easy enough to learn. 1'11 PM you up to all the dodges.” “)1 will go with you, then, 1 On this point the conductor had something to say. He soon passed through the car, and asked the two boys for their tickets... As they had none, they stared blankly at him and at each other. But they must show their tickets, the con- ducfor told them, or pay their fare. Sim Brattle explained that he had been with his uncle, who had got oil? the train, leaving him aboard. Bill declared that he had been in charge of o. man who had similarly disappearfid- “ I see how it is,” said the conductor. ‘_' You - addreSSing himself to Bill—-“ were With those flvo boys who were brought from New York to Illinois. and you have given‘ our party the slip. You ”—turning to Sun— I Jud e to be in the same kind of a scrape. I suppose ought to sendfiyou back; but you may go on as far as you Bill, as far as you @3011: fares was paid once.” declared Bin- Smart Sim, the Lad with the Level Head. 8 “Men; to? Not as for as this, I’ll be bound. You mutt shell out, youngsters, or I shall drop you at the next st ition.” They jammed their hands into their empty pockets, and the conductor went on. “This drop game is gittin’ played onto us a leeth too often,” protesvcd Bill. S.“ What will we do when he drops usl” asked 1m. “ Dunno yet. Somethin’ will happen, of course, so we’ll wit fer the fun.” The ‘fun” came all too soon. Almost as he Fpnlie there was an unusually heavy jolt, that sinrtleil t‘n'i whole train; then a. nmse of some- thing cracking and breaking, and then a. re pid thumpingr of our Wheels over ties, all mingled with shouts and screams from the forward cars. “ Hold on, Sim l” warned Bill. “ The breechin’ is broke, suro’s you're a sinner 1” Then the car the boys were in followed the others down a. steep embankment, rolling over tn ice before it reached the bottom. The darkness, the crash of breaking glass and wood and iron, and the general wreck and whirl, in which everything movable, themselves included, was dashed and tumbled about, left the two lads nearly out of their wits when the bottom of the embankment was reached. Bill Yards was the first to move and feel about him. The our, broken in the middle and with its trucks gone, had finally rested on the remains of its floor, and Bill, putting his head through a broken window. looked out at the starry night. “ Are you alive, Sim?” he called out. “Yes. but mighty close squeezed. Can you git out!” “ Easy as rollin’ of! a. log.” “ Roll 03. then. and I’ll foller as soon as I can git my foot loose.” In afew minutes the boys were free from the ear, and standing by the wreck. shaking their legs and feeling of their bruised bodies. “ Anythlu’ bu’sted?” asked Bill. “ No: but I feel as though I’d been through a board mill." “ And I feel as 11 I’d tackled a thrashin’ ma.- chine. Bf,“ Ehere’s plenty wuss off than us, though, l . No doubt of that. The engine. baggage-car and three passenger‘cars were huddled together at the bottom of'the ravine, a smoking mass. of ruins, from which came cries of pain and pitc- ous appeals for help. The our next to them be- gan to blaze, and they hurried toward the light. Agonizing cries came from a. point of wreckage near the blaze. and Sim Brattle jumped up on the broken car. that was lying on its side, and looked in It the shattered window. There he saw the face or a woman, distorted by fear and am. p “ Helpl" she shouted. “ The car is on fire, and we will soon be burned to death l” “ Fetch a rock, Bill !” shouted the lad. Bill Yards brought a. heavy stone, and climbed up robin friend, who cleared the broken .from the window, and reached down. ‘ k6 out my child mar begged the voma up then saw’the fancier a girl, whim; been ‘ den from him by the shadow. “All right, missis,” he said. "We'll do our blest. nBee it you can fetch her a shove, down i. ere. The “ child ” proved tobe a. nearly r0wn girl. and it was retty hard tugging for t a boys to pull her on of the empty car; but they suc- ceeded, and landed her on the ground, where she seemed to be safe and sound. Then they turned their attention to the wov man. but this was a more difficult matter, assho was jammed in by the wreckage, and the open- inghwas not large enough to allow them to get :1 er. But the fire was burning briskly, and there was no time to be lost. Bill Yards seized the stone, and smashed in the partition between two windows, and his companion jumped down into the mass of. tan- gled seats and broken timber. Bidding the imprisoned woman wait a mo- ment, he worked his way toward the advancin fire, and in spite of the heat broke ofl a bit 0 blazing wood, by the light of which he exam- ined her position. Perceiving that she was fastened down by a broken seat, he pulled it away exerting all is strength, and she was free: but she was still unable to move, and said that she feared her leg was: broken. Sim told his friend to bring the girl to help, and she was lifted to the side of the car. Then, with one to lift and two to pull, the woman, who was not very heavy nor entirely helpless, was got out of the car. and Sim Brat- tle followed her, just as the flames broke out behind him. After considerable dificult they carried her away from danger, and laid er safely on the turf, out of the reach of the burning wreck. Then they saw that she was a handsome young-looking woman, withn pale and patient face, pluiuly but neatly dressed. The “child” had even more than her mother’s beauty, and her clear complexion, lar 6 blue e es, and bright golden hair showed good a vantage in the starlight. “That was a. close call, missis,” said Bill Yards. _ “ We owe our lives to you,” re lied the suffer- mg woman, “and I will never th the debt, though I am not able to pay it. but is your name?” ‘ “ Bill Yards, ma’am.” “ And yours, my young friend?” “ Sim Brattle.” “I am Mrs. Ames, and thi is my daughter Amy. I shall never forget your names. and I hope I may meet you again, and prove to you that you are not forgotten.” “'That’s all right, ma’am. Now, we must go and see if there’s anythin’ more we can do.” As they turned to go the girl fin! seized Slm’s hand, raised itto her lips, , klyesed it, while her tears rained upon it. CHAPTER II. a (new r03- norm. Tum; was euty tbvthil' tune there wymnyaople dogzbllf. Thou 4 Smart Sim, the Lad with the Level Head. who had notbeen injured had hastened to assist ‘ those who were confined in the wrecked and burning train. Ill news flies swiftly, and people ‘ had hurried to the spot from the surrounding country, with lanterns and tools. The blazing cars also furnished light, and everybody worke with a will, and soon all was done that could be done by those on the spot. 0n the ground were aid a number of mangled victims of the collision, some of them screaming, others groaning, and others enduring their ain in silence. Elsewhere lay several others, Silent and motionless, who would never scream, or groan. or feel in any more. As the two ads moved about the wreck, Sim Brattle picked up a medium-sized black sachel, of thick leather and very horny. At the same time they hear an old man, in a group just ahead of them, crying over a loss. “It was a black sachel,” he said, “pretty heavy, but of no value to anybody but the owner, and I will give a. fine reward for it. Oh, it can’t have been burned l” “What sort of arsachel was yours. mister?” asked Sim, concealing his find behind him as he ate ped forward. he old man described it, and the boy handed it over to him. He seized it en gerlv, and at once examined it, to make sure that it had not been opened. “ Heaven will bless you, my young friend,” he said. “ There is nothing in it but some iron castings, but they are useful to me. Come to my place—Cornelius Corum, No. — North Second street, St. Louis, and you shall have a fine reward.” “There was money in that sachel and we may whistle for a reward,” muttered Sim, as the old man hobbled away, hugging the sachel under his arm. Intelligence of the disaster had been flashed over the wires, and soon a train reached the wreck, bringing physicians, stretchers, bla nkets, bandages, and other help for the wounded. All were got on board, including the dead, and the train slowly moved toward the nearest station at which the wounded could be attended to. The two lads helped themselves to a comfort- able seat in a first-class car. and were not again asked for their tickets. It was sufficient that they were survivors of the disaster. “ Mighty lively time, that,” remarked Sim. “ It wasn’t nothin’ shorter,” replied Bill. “ But that conductor got cheated out of a chance to drop us. I sa , Sim, what a pretty girl it was that we pulle out of the car.” _ “ Pretty!” exclaimed Sim. “ She was Just IOVelY. What asweet name, too—Amy Amesl” “Yes; I mean to remember that name.” “You may bet your last button that I won’t forget it." , ' ‘ You didn’t make much of a spec, Sim, out of that old man and his sachel.” “ The darned skinflint! I am sure there was money in that sachel, and he didn’t give us a cent.’ Bi“ go said he would give yous. flne reward, m. “ Yes, he said so; but the cash down would ha’ suited me better. I mean to remember his lace in St. Louis, and we may wonyhim some fore we’re through with him.” “ Tell you what, Sim, I give in that I’ve been sorter picked up in you. I took you fur a greeny at fust: but I guess your head is about as level as a railroad track.’ * “I hope it is, Bill. Level heads are what we need to have about this time.” After various delzi~ s the train rolled into the Union Depot at St. uis at a late hour in the morning. News of the disaster had receded it, and newspaper reporters were rea y to re- ceive the surviving passengers. . ' “ Say, mister, ain’t you gom’ to interview us?” asked Bill, stepping up to a young man who carried a note-book. “ Were you on the wrecked train? Give me your names, then.” “ Mine is Willyum Yards, Esquire, of New York.” “ Mine is Sim Brattle, Esquire, of C’natta." “ All right,” said the reporter. “Ain’t you goin’ to interview us, mister?” de- manded Bill. “ I believe I will let you ofl this time.” “Go ahead, then, smarty, and buzz the bi boys who don’t know nothin’. Say, Sim, wha are we ’goin’ to do for breakfuss? I’ve got plenty o’ brass, but not a speck 0’ tin." “You’re welcome to what I’ve got, as long as it lasts,” replied Sim. “But we don’t have to spend money for fodder jest yit. Come along!" He marched up to a. railway official, to whom he told a pitiful tale of the misfortunes and losses of himself and his friend on the wrecked train, and received an order on a neighboring restaurant where the two lads breakfasted sumotuously. “Now we will even up,” said Sim, when they could eat no more, and be divided with his friend a. small stock of silver and coppers. “ What are you ’goin’ to do now 3" asked Bill. “ I mean to take in this town. and see if I’d care to buy it._” “I feel as if Iowned it a’ready, after that hreakfuss: I guess I will go down on ’Change and, l’i’mk inter the blackin’ and paper sellin’ busi- ness. “I will look around among the ai stuckup- racy. Perhaps I may light on some ric old chap who wants to adopt a norfln. Where shall we meet, Bill?” “I uess this isasgood a place as any. Six o'clock this evenin’.” “ Kerectl I will consult my cornometer.” “Oh, git outl You put on more airs than a dandy darky at a cake walk.” Sim Brattle did not take a Course that would lead him to the business portion of the cit , but turned toward the south, and soon foun him- self ln a broad street that was lined with elegant reSidences. . After wandering about in this region until he began to believe that he was wastmg time and shoe leather, he turned back. He soon perceived that he was foll0wed by 3 man whom he had seen looking at h?!“ sharply' agd hetloitered along, to give “I” 811550" 3 0 shoe 0 o b . . The mangoes!“ him. but turned after souls a ,'\ o Smart Sim. the Lad with the Level Head. 5 few steps, and faced him. Sim then noticed that he was a small, slim, middle-aged man,well dressed, and with a dried-up appearance that made him look much older than he was. His actions were singular; but it was broad daylight in a public street, and the lad felt that he need not be afraid of any little, withered old man. “ Say, mister," said Sim, “ }you look as if you’d lost somebody. Maybe I’m t 9 party.” _ " Perhaps you are,” replied the man, With a grin that wrinkled up his withered face. “ Do you belong in St. Louis?” . ‘ “ Not yet, anyhow. I’ve Just got in from C’natta.” “From where?” “ From C’natta. Don’t you know C’natta? Bi‘g hog town—the Paris of Ameriky.” ‘ Oh, Cincmnati. That is a fine city. Have you any. relations or friends here?” “ I hain't got nobody nor nothin’, except one pardner, who came on the train with me, and he’s a young gen’leman from New York.” The old gentleman rubbed his hands, and puckered up his face with another grin. “ So nobody knows you here,” he said. “Ah! that is quite satisfactory. You wonder why I take such an interest in you, my young friend. The truth is that you look remarkably like a boy I once knew, who was very near and dear to me. Indeed, you are his exact image, and I could not help looking at you and speaking to you. You will do me a great favor if you will go with me to my home, which is not far from here, and let me present you to my wife, who will be very glad to see you.” Sim Brattle reflected. He was almost con- vinced that he had found the rich old gentleman who wanted to adopt ano han. This was just the chance he had been loo ing for; but the sud- denness of it utpset him, and be phased, as he would have sai , to let his head settle. “ You need not be afraid of me.” said the old man. “I am Augustus Ames, well known here, and I live in a fine house of my own on Chou— teau avenne. I have no wish to harm you.” “I ain’t shit scared,” replied Sim—“make no mistake about that. I say, though, mister, you ain’t a philanthrofist, are you?” “ A hilanthro ist? Oh, no; itis as muchas I can 0 to atten to my own busmess.” “ You’re my style, then. Lead on, my noble ‘ duke!” CHAPTER III. A caomacn TRANSACTION. Mu. Auans'rus Aims had spoken the truth about his residence. He stopped at an elegant house, led the lad up the high and broad steps, and. opened the door with a latch-key. Sim Brattle stared as he entered the spacious hall, and opened his eyes yet wider when he was conducted through a suite of parlors, richly furnished, into a room that was lined with book- cases fllled with books_in cestly bindings. Here he was seated in a cushioned arm-chair, and Mr. Ames requested him to remain a few minutes. until Mrs. Ames could be informed of his arrival. “Don’t worry about me. old gen’leman,” re- plied Sim; “ I’m comferble.” Mr. Amos went out, but scon returned, fol- lowed by a lady who seemed to be considerably younger than be, but who was so large and fat that she was a strange contrast to her dried-up little husband. Her hair was black, and her face was very red, and she wore a suit of heavy and showy satin, “ Julia. my love,” said Mr. Ames, as his wife settled down upon a sofa, “ this is the boy whom_Providence has sent to us. Is he not the exact image of our dear Arthur?” -“ He is very dirty,” replied the lady, looking at him clasely. This remark put Sim on his mettle. “I guess you’d be dirty, too,” said he, “if you’d been tumbled down a steep bank, and smashed up in a railroad train like I was last night. The boy that stood on the burning deck wasn’t a patchiu’ to that.” “ Were you in that fearful disaster?" she asked. “ You just bet your breastpin that I was.” “ You are right, Augustus. This boy is strlilk‘i’ng’l'y like our dear Arthur. I think he WI 0. “ Of course he will do,” said Mr. Amos. “ The resemblance is nearly perfect. He will have to do, anyhow, as it is neck or nothing w.th us now.” ‘ Sim Brattle was curious to know what all this meant. “ What’s the mix?” he asked. “ Have I turned out to be anybody’s long lost son? Do ‘I need to find a strawberry mark upon my left arm?’ - “ He’s sharp enough, Julia.” said Mr. Amos. Decidedl I think he will do.” . “You ad better explain to the boy what is wanted of him, then,” suggested his wife. “Is that necessary? I thought we might use him for this purpose without telling any secrets.” ' “ I judge that it will not be worth your while to try any fooling; with him." . “Very well, Julia; I rely upon your-Judg- ment. . What IS your name, my young friend!" “Sim Brattle.” , “ The fact is, Sim, that we want you to fair-e the place of a dear young friend of ours who is absent. He is far away, so far that he cannot get back here in time to be present in some pro- ceedings that must take place tomorrow.” “Son of yours?” asked Sim, jerking a quick glance at the speaker. “Not exactly. The fact is that we are his guardians—that is, I am his guardian—and we must produce him in court tomorrow—before a referee, I should say—to settle a little matter of business.” . I “ Fur to draw money on him?” in lured Sim. “Dear me! whats sharp boyl ot exactly to draw money on him, but to settle the amount of the yearly allowance that I am to receive and lay out upon him until he is of a 8.” “That’s all solid,” remarked Sim, and he at once began to wonder how much that allow- ance would be, and how he could make sure that it would all be spent upon him. As Mr. Ames and his wife where whispering together, he began to speculate upon another 'pomt— 6 Smart Sim. the Lad. with the Level Head. what had become of the boy whose place he was to take? “Is be far away, that boy?” he asked. “ Very far,” replied Mr. Ames. “ Sure he won’t be back soon?" “Oh, I am uite sure of that." “ Ii’lnad any tters from him since he’s been gone “None lately.” “Maybe hes where they don’t have any filees. It would be a pity if he’s dead.” “That isa int that doesn’t oonccrn you, my young friend” said Mr. Ames. “ ou must understand that your appearance in place of our dear Al thur is merely a matter of form." “Isit that kind of a. deali” remarked Sim, rising, and picking up his hat. “Then I pass out “What do you mean by that?” asked Mr. Ames, and his yellow face turned yellower. " I mean to say that I don’t take a bit of stock in mere matters of form. If there ain’t somethin’ solid in this racket, count me out. ” “ Oh, you shall be paid for your trouble, and well paid. Sit down, my young friend, and make yourself easy. You will find that the business is solid enough, as far as you are con- cerned. Of course it is confidential. Do you know what confidential means?” “Ya as—I guess it means crooked." “It means nothing of the kind. It means that you must kee a still tongue in your head —that you must te 1 nobody.” “ Maybe it comes to the same thing,” sug- ' gested Sim. . Mrs. Ames shook her head, as if to intimate that this boy was too sharp, and might do a little too Well. “ The first thing to be done,” said Mr. Ames, “ is toflt you out with a. fine suit of clothes, and I will take you out directly and buy them fer on. “ySim’s eyes sparkled. There was something “ solid ” in a suit of clothes. “ ain’t the fast thins;r though,” he said. “ hatis the first, then? ' “I’m hungry.” “ Of course you shall have your dinner, and a bath too, as you need one badly, and we have no time to lose." Sim Brattle bathed luxuriously, and dined sumptuously. When he had eaten as much as he could hold. be mentally resnlved that the place in which he found himself was a good place, and that if he was as she as he supposed him- self to be, he would stay t ere. “I am just in the right fix now, mister, to fit into a suit of new clothes.” he said. " Come with me, then, and you shall soon be fitted. Remember that your name is now Arthur Ames.” r “ ot yet, mister," replied Sim. Wh so?” “_When I git inside of Arthur Ames’s clothes, I Will he Arthur Amos. As ion as I am wear- iBng gin} Brattle’s clothes, will be Sun e. r. Amellooked at the lad as if he was dis- ggsed to doubt, as his wife had, whether this y m ht not prove to be a. little too sharp. But was taken to a clothing store, where be we fitted with a complete suit, ready made, but quite stylish, and it seemed to him that there was but one thing needed to make him a first class young entleman. “i would be al right now,” he said. “ if I had some money to jingle in my pocket.” Mr. Ames gave him some silver change, and said that it was time to go home. “ I’ve got a little bit of business to attend to first,” he said. “ I romised to meet a friend of mine at the Union epot at six o’clock." “ What friend?" asked Mr. Ames, looking at him suspiciously. “You told me that you had no friends here.” “ Only my pardner, Bill Yards, who was on the train with me last night." . “ I don’t see that you need to meet hkn now.” “But I promised to, and I can’t go back on my promise.” “Ah!_ well, Arthur, I am glad to see that you are inclined to keep your promises, and I ope you will always keep them. Go and sea your friend, but make a quick job of it, and be sure that you say not a. word about me or the matters we have talked of." _ “ All right, sir. I‘m fly. Anybody who tries to catch Arthur Ames for a sucker, will be likely to lose a hook.” Bill Yards, returning to the Union Depot at six o'clock, with a bootblack‘s outfit; hangin on his arm, saw nothing of his friend Sim. at he did see a. stylish young fellow sanntering about there, wearing a new suit of clothes that did not seem to have become entirely familiar with his form. “ There’s a young swall, now,” said Bill, “ who is puttin’ on more airs than a. tree—toad in a cherry orchard, and I mean to tackle him for a shine. Bet hell be fool enough togimmoa dime.” “ Shine, sir? Shine ’em up? See your face in ’em for ten cents.” The young swell turned on his heel contempt- uouslz. “ ere is ten cents for you,” he said, throw- ing down a coin. ‘ Now go and start a bankl" Bill-Yards dropped his box, and stared with outh. y “ Thunderatlonl” was all he could say. For once his tongue was not equal to the task of expressing his sentiments. 'Whats the matter, bub'l” asked the young upstart. _ “ May I be copper—distilled if I don’t believe I’m crazyl Can my ears believe my eyesight? Has the comet throwed everything into ever- lastin' smash, or is this Sim Brattlel” Si“Didn’t you really know me, Billl” inquired m. “Domed if I did, and I ain‘t so bu’stin’ sure that I kn0w you now." - “Then I’m all ri ht, and will pass in any crowd. Ain’t this n illin’ rig, Bill?" “ Killin’? I should blush to remark. It’s nothm’ short of murder in the first degree. with malice aforesaid. What havo you been steppin' into, anyhow? Found a gold mine, orjined a I Whisky ring?” _ ’ “Itold you. Bill.thatI was gorn’to try to his mouth and eyes wide open, at the liberal _ Smart Sim. the Lad with the Level Head. ‘3 'light on some rich old gen'leman who wanted to adopt a norfln. Well, I struck him." “ Did you, thouEhl” “Don't i look li e M I am residin’ at present in a. palatual mansion on Chouteau avenue. Want any money? Here’s a half dollar.” Bill stared at the coin, and fingered it, as if he was afraid it might vanish at any moment. “ I 've in Sim," he said, quite meekly. “ I’m rattle . I ain’t nothin’ but a street scalawag, sca’cely fit to black boots for sech smart speki- lators as you. How did you do it? Gimme the zip. 9“l'that sort of a. racket are you on, any- ow “That's a mystery,” solemnly replied Sim. “Ican’t tell on now. I’ve got to keep mum for awhile. his is important business, you see. Private and confidential. But I'm on the right track. and mean to stick to it. When I zit settled down, and can see my way ahead 8. little furder, you may bet that your pardner won’t go back on you. If ou’d seen the way I fixed up things today, Bil , and had heard me chin around among the airystuckupracy, you’d ha’ said that Sim Brattle's head is as level as a railroad track. I’ve got to keep it level, too, or aomethin’ will smash.” “ To think that I’d almost picked you_ up for a greenyl” exolaimed Billz regarding his friend with adw iration. “You re a regular tiptopper, and no mistake. When‘Barnum wants to git hold of a great moral phenomenon, I mean to tell him to come out here and ketch Sim Brattle." “ All right, Dill; but you mustn’t call me by that name afore folks. I have had a new chris- tenin’ and have got a new name.” “ Who are you now?” “ Ames is my name—Arthur Ames, Esquire." “ Any relation to Amy Ames’i" “Not that I know of. Wish I was.” “ That reminds me,” said BilL “ I saw ' that gal tn-day.” “ You saw Amy! Was her mother with herl Did on go to her house?” “ met her on the street. You oughter know that her mother can’t git out o’ the house. She asked after you. I am goin’ to see ’em to- morrer.” “ I wish I could go,” said Sim, looking at his new suit and thinking what a fine figure he was for a visit. “ But I can’t go to-morrow.” “Plenty of lime. I say, Sim, I am goin’ to hung up t at old chap whose sachel you found, too. “ I”wish you would wait until I can go with on. “Guess I’d better make a strike when you can’t go. Mebbe he’s another rich old gen’le- man who wants to adopt a rorfin, and I mns’n’t miss any chances. When will I see you ag’in, “Right here, tomorrow evenin’ at six, and every evenin’ at six, until I can invite you to my palatual residence; and now I must_ light out for that sweet spot ri ht away, Without stop in’ to play marbles on t 9 road. ’ ‘ So long, Sim, and keep your head level.” “I’ll try, and will be here to-morrow evenin’ at six. sure." CHAPTER IV. BILL YARDS mucous anemone. BILL YARDS was full of admiration for his friend and all . Nothing he ever struck him as so wonderful as this—that a boy of fifteen should come to such 'a city a St. Louis, a stranger, friendless, penniless. an nearly ragged. and in less than a day should he “splurging” around. dressed up “to the nines.” with money in his pocket, and claiming as his home a “ palatual residence " on ChouLeau avenue! It was a miracle—it was a fairy tale—it was a revised edition of Aladdin and the lamp! IIow had he done it? What sort of a streak of luck had he struck! Were there any more such openings in St. Louis! Had he really been adopted by some rich man. or was be running on a track that would speedily bring him to the State prison? Bill kept worrying his head with this problem through the night, in the cheap lodging~house where he had taken a bed, and awoke in the morning determined to “ make a strike ” and to 3nd or force a way to fortune as his friend had one. As he told Sim Brattle, he had met Amy Ames the day before. He had recognized her at ones as the girl whom he and his friend had saved from the wrecked and burning car, but she, who had had but a brief glimpse of him in the darkness, did not know him at first. Bill was not too bashful to recall himself to her so- quaintance, and she greeted him joyfully. “I am so glad to see you,” she said. “ I was afraid that we might never run across you again. though you had saved our liVes. Where is your friend, Sim Brattlei” Bill Yards could only answer that Sim was sonwwhere in St. Louis. “ Do bring him up to our house. Poor me is laid up with her broken ankle; but she will be ever so glad tosee you both. and I know she wants to thank you, and Ipei-ha we can do something to help you, for do be ieve that you are even poorer than we are. Here is our street and number—see, I put it on this card—and must be sure to come, and when shall we for you?” ‘ “ To-morrow morning,” replied Bill, glad of a chance to put a word in. ’ “ Don’t fall to come, then, or we shall be awfully disappointed, and tell your friend that we want to see him ever so much.” . When Bill started out in the mornin to find the way to fortune. he left his box of lacking tools at the lodging-house, for fear that it mi? stand in the way of his immediate adoption y some solid citizen. . But he was willin to postpone hi! Imblfiom schemes until be con d make the promised call on Mrs. Ames and her daughter, and toward the address that had been given him he first turned is ste . He fgfind them living in a small but neat house in the northern part of the cit , and was warmly welcomed by Amy. who took im intoapleaeant to m where her mother was lying on a lounge, with her ankle in splints. “You find me scarcely able to move."-nid 8 Smart Sim, the Lad with the Level Head. Mrs. Ames, when she had greeted the lad in the I Then he must go w1tu mcnara Ames to the friendliest manner; “ but alive, and that iece of good fortune Iowa to you and your riend. But where is he? Amy told me that you were both coming here this 3 morning.” Bill hard] knew what to say about his friend, for fear thazhe would say too much; but he ex— glained that Sim was kept away by “important usiness,” and that he had “ struck a lucky streak." “ I am so sorry i” exclaimed Amy. “That is I am awfully glad if he is lucky, but so sorry that he could not come. This ver day, too, when my brother Dick has just come ome from Colorado —Santa Clara, in Colorado—do you know Santa Claral—it is a new place where they dig gold, and everybody ets rich all of a sudden, and we are hoping that ick will get rich, and we have told him all about you and your friend, and he is awfully anxious to see you both.” “ How you do runon, Amy 1” said her mother. “ Suppose you run to the door. I heard the bell, and perhaps that is Dick himself." So it was, and he proved to be a. fine young man of twenty or twenty-one, tall for his age, ' handsome enough to be Amy’s brother, With sun-browned cheeks and suc an a earance of health and strength as made Bill ards de- ' light to look upon him. Richard Amos at once ut the street lad at his ease, made him feel at ome, and in a short time had drawn out‘his entire history, in- , eluding his present condition and his immediate desires. “I am thinkin’,” said Sim, “ oi lookin’ about to find some rich old u’leman who wants to adopt a norfln, as Sim Brattle got adopted yesterda .” “Has e really been adopted i” asked Richard mes. “ Guess you’d think so, if you should see his rig. Why, he is togged out in as big style as the lilies of the valley that Scripter tell about.” “That is really astonishing. I can’t retend tounderstand it. But we will know a] about , it, I suppose, when we ee him. Well, Master Bill, I am neither an old man nor a rich one, 'and it 'is too early for me to begin to ado t orphans: but my mother and sister want to o something for you, to prove that they are grateful; and so, if ou will take a walk with me, we will find a c othing store, and see what sort of a suit can be got for you.” There was no refusing this good-natured ofler. If Bill had wanted to refuse it, his kind friends would not have allowed him to think of such a thing. So he went out with Richard Ames, and seen his ap rance was transformed as nothing but a c ange from rags to new and nice clothing can transform a rson. As he admired himself in a ass, it Occurred to him that he had at least ta en one ste up the ladder which Sim Brattle had mounts —-he was well dressed. It also occurred to him that it would never do for the possessor of such a. suit to descend to blacking boots or selling pers. Good clothes are apowerful stimulus to ambition. As he had got a start, he could not stop, but must go on. and up. 1 missing. am glad that I am ‘ house again, and show the suit to the ladies, and then he must stay to dinner, which had been ke t back for him and Dick. v the time dinner was over he had got into a fldget thinking over the olden moments he was losing, and the splen id chances he was . f he was to step into a fortune such as Sim’s, before six o’clock in the evening, he must hurry and find it. So he hastened away after promisin to re« turn soon, and went in search of omelius Corum, the old man with the heavy sachel. It was not easy to find the address which he had preserved in his memory, among the rook- eries of that part of North Second street to which he had been directed, some of which seemed to have existed since the time when St. Louis was a French settlement. But he finally found the name of “C. Corum, Agent,” on a little old tin sign at the door of an old buildiu which had a brick wall for the ground floor an tumble-down frame for the upper stor . There was nothing to show that . Comm was agent of or for anything in icular, and no sign of any sort of business in the dirtcov- ered windows, and Bill Yards shook his head sadly as he thought that this rookery was far dif- ferent from the “ palatual residence ” of which Sim had boasted. He knocked boldly at the door, which was opened after some delay by a very ugly negro grl, and was admitted into t e dark in- nor. When his eyes had become accustomed to the dim light, he looked around, and rceiVed that he was in a square room, low-cei inged, dingy, dirty and without the least sign of wealth or luxury. There was no carpet on the floor, and the only furniture was an old desk, a battered bureau, a stand of pigeon-holes, a rusty safe, and a. few worn and clumsy chairs. A closer look showed him one piece of com- fortable furniture -— a cushioned arm-chair, roomy and well-padded, in which was seated an old man with a short, thick body and very slim legs. He had a square face, a low forehead, small eyes and rusty gray. hair and heard. The led at once recognized him as the man who had lost the sachel, and was not at all pleased with his appearance. ‘ “What do you want, now?” sharply demand- ed the old man. “Out with it, and be quick, for time is valuable. If on have come from Owings, you may go rig t back and tell him that he can have no more money until he pays that last note—not a. cent.” _ Bill Yards had helped himself to a chair, and did not seem to be in any sort of a hurr . “I thought you might know me,” said. “ Do you remember losin’a sachel full of mone night afore last, when the train was smashed? “ There was no money in that sachel," sharp- ] replied Mr. Corum. “How can you say that ere was money in it? I never_carry anything valuable. and never have anything valuable to carry.” “You said you would give a reward to the tellers that found it ” suggested Bill. “Are you one of those boys‘l Yes,l; know you now, though you have come out ill gay VAW \a-U.'—w