CHAPTER X.

A Mysterious Letter.

Andy walked out into the street, feeling very ill-used and indignant,

and was for hurrying away as quickly as possible, forgetting for the

moment that he had determined on a certain course to pursue.

"I thought fer sure yer was in fer a trip to the island," said a voice

behind him.

Andy turned and there was Pete following after him.

"Oh, is that you, Pete? I had forgotten all about you. Where did you

come from?"

"Yer didn't think I'd give yer the go-by now, did yer?" asked Pete, in

an injured tone. "I was waitin' fer yer all the time. I don't go back on

a pardner like that. Why, if they'd shipped yer up to the island, I'd a'

been there to say good-by to yer, an' don't yer ferget it. Yer give me a

breakfast this morning, didn't yer? Yer licked them fellers, didn't yer?

Well, Pete, if he's got only one name, don't go back on yer. See? An'

that settles it."

It was not an elegant speech, and Pete was an uncommonly

disreputable-looking lad, with his grimy face and hands and his tattered

garments, but there was a ring of gratitude and earnestness in his tone

that went straight to Andy's heart, and he held out his hand with:

"You're the right sort, Pete."

"Anyhow, I don't go back on a pardner," said Pete, shaking the proffered

hand awkwardly.

Andy was in need of sympathy at just that moment, and he was really very

glad of the friendship of the little waif, who was so old in experience

if so young in years.

[Illustration:

"YER KNOW ME? I'M LYNX-EYED BILL, THE TERROR OF THE FORCE.

GIT ONTER MY LYNX EYE."]

He would not have selected Pete for a friend and confidant; but there he

was, at hand, with his sympathy ready, and Andy was moved to take him

into his confidence.

"I say, Pete," he began, and stopped.

"Say it," said Pete.

But at that moment Andy had caught sight of his man with the child, and

he exclaimed: "Do you see that man, Pete?"

"The feller that was on the wharf? I see him."

"I want to follow him."

"Nobody's hinderin' yer."

"But he knows me, and if he sees me following him, he will know what I

am after. Don't you see?"

"I'm fly. Yer want me ter do the trick. Good! Yer know me? I'm Lynx-eyed

Bill, the terror of the force. Git onter my lynx eye."

Whether he had a lynx eye or not, he certainly was a very shrewd little

scamp, for he left Andy's side and hurried nearer to the man and child;

and so, followed by Andy at a considerable distance, he kept after them.

The mother of the child and some sympathizing friends were with them,

and there was no difficulty in keeping them in sight as long as they

remained together.

Mr. Roberts went with them, however, only to the cars, where he left

them, evidently with many apologies for the trouble he had been the

cause of putting them all to, for Pete, and even Andy, from his

distance, could see him bowing many times over.

As soon as the car took them away, he looked all around with seeming

carelessness, though it was plain to the boys that he was scrutinizing

everybody anxiously.

Andy jumped out of sight at once, and when he peered around his corner

again the advantage of having Pete help him was evident.

Mr. Roberts had disappeared, but Pete was visible just as he was

hurrying around a corner, and so Andy was enabled to follow again.

If he had been asked just what he expected to gain by following the man

he could not have told. It was merely that it had entered his head that

if Mr. Roberts was concerned, as he believed, in the kidnapping of Regy,

and if Regy had not yet been taken out of the country, then Mr. Roberts

would be likely to do something or go somewhere that would betray Regy's

hiding place to him.

Mr. Roberts walked over to Broadway and down it a few blocks to a liquor

saloon, which he entered. Pete was turning it over in his sharp brains

how he could contrive to follow him in there without attracting his

attention, when he suddenly came out again and walked briskly up

Broadway.

Pete reasoned that he had not been in there long enough to get a drink,

and he was just reproaching himself for not having followed him into the

saloon, when Mr. Roberts drew a letter out of the side pocket of his

sack coat, and with a preliminary glance around, read it, and then

thrust it back into his pocket and showed relief in every movement.

He was no longer in a hurry, but sauntered along in leisurely fashion,

and was no further concerned, apparently, as to whether or not he was

followed.

Pete turned this over in his mind and came to a conclusion. The letter

was the thing that had had the sudden soothing effect on the man; then

the letter was probably about the child Andy was hunting for. If so, it

was only necessary to get the letter and give it to Andy and the matter

would be ended.

Andy would have despaired of getting the letter, if he had been near

enough to observe all that had taken place, and so would most other

persons; but Pete had had a training which, fortunately, most persons

have not had, and it was a comparatively small matter to him to obtain

the letter.

He turned his sleeve up, so that his hand and wrist were clear and free,

and then quickened his pace and drew nearer to where Mr. Roberts was

sauntering along. He kept close behind him for a block or more, walking

as if he had not a thing on his mind.

Presently there was one of those sudden gatherings of people on the

sidewalk, such as are of common occurrence in every large city.

Then Pete pressed close to the side of Mr. Roberts, taking care to be on

the side where the pocket containing the letter was. Mr. Roberts did not

know it--you would not have seen it had you been there--but the grimy

hand of Pete went in and out of that side pocket like a flash of

lightning, and it held the letter when it came out.

What would Andy say to that way of obtaining the letter? That was the

very question Pete put to himself after the missive was safe in his

pocket.

He had had an example of Andy's notions of honesty, and it spoke volumes

for Andy's influence on him that he did not propose to let his "pardner"

know how he had obtained the letter.

"I'll bet a quarter," said Pete to himself, as he fell back to where he

knew Andy would be, "that he'd be jest fool ernough ter give the chump

the letter back ag'in."

When he was where he could beckon Andy he did so, and the latter

hastened up to him.

"Here's a letter," explained Pete. "He dropped it. Mebbe it has

somethin' in ter tell yer what yer want ter know."

"Dropped it?" said Andy, taking the letter doubtfully, but not

suspecting the way in which it had been obtained.

"Ya-as, an' I picked it up," replied Pete, unblushingly. "Go on an' read

it, why don't yer?"

It seemed to Andy that it would be no more than fair to read it under

the circumstances, and he opened it and did so. It was without

signature, and read as follows:

"Gone with Uncle Mike! Watch the Mirror."

Andy's disappointment at the contents of the letter was plainly shown on

his face.

"What's the matter?" asked Pete, curiously.

"I can't understand it," answered Andy.

"Can't yer read writin'?" was Pete's surprised inquiry.

"Of course I can," replied Andy; "but I can't make anything out of

this."

"What does it say?" asked Pete.

They were walking along as they talked, and Pete constantly kept his eye

on Mr. Roberts.

Andy read the letter to him.

"Lay low!" exclaimed Pete, suddenly, pulling Andy around a corner. "He's

missed the letter. He'll be back ter hunt fer it."

"I'll stay here," said Andy. "You keep your eye on him."

Pete went out to Broadway again, and Andy saw him disappear hastily

around the corner.

He knew by that that his man could not be approaching, so he peered

around the corner and saw Pete on the edge of the sidewalk looking every

way. Mr. Roberts was nowhere in sight.

Pete hunted and Andy hunted, but neither could obtain a glimpse of him,

and Andy was in the depths of despair.

"It's no use," said Andy, at last; "he's gone, and my chance has gone

with him."

Pete looked sympathetic and downcast.

"I s'pose it's my fault," he said, dismally.

"No, it's my fault," said Andy. "I should have kept my eye on him all

the time."

"Yer've got the letter," reminded Pete, by way of consolation.

"What's the use of the letter when I can't understand it?" replied Andy.

"What don't yer understand?" asked Pete.

"Any of it 'What does 'Gone with Uncle Mike' mean? What does 'Watch the

Mirror' mean?"

"Huh!" said Pete. "I can tell yer that much."

"You can."

"Yer bet I can. Come on, an' I'll show yer."

Andy looked suspicious and doubtful. How could Pete be so knowing as

that? If he could not understand the letter, how could Pete?

Pete, however, led him without a word, but with a wonderfully knowing

air, along several blocks, and finally stopped at a news stand and

looked it over.

"That the last Mirror, boss?" he asked, of the man in charge.

"Yep."

"Give it ter me?"

And Pete handed over his quarter, received his change and a paper and

then led Andy up a side street and gave the paper to him.

Andy saw that its name was the Mirror, and that it was devoted to

theatrical news. That was enough to give him confidence in Pete's

intelligence, but he was in the dark yet.

"I see so much," he said; "but I don't understand about Uncle Mike."

"Andy," said Pete, with a compassionate air, "yer a dandy with yer

dukes, an' yer square as a brick; but yer ain't cut yer eye-teeth yet.

Gimme the paper an' let me show yer."

Andy gave him the paper and the knowing Pete took it and turned to the

back pages.

"There!" said he, pointing to a column beaded "Dates Ahead." "Look at

that an' see if Uncle Mike ain't mentioned."

Andy, with a glimmering of Pete's idea, looked along the column until

he came to "U," and there he saw, at the head of the list, "Uncle Mike

Co.; Philadelphia, July 8--week."

He read it aloud to Pete, and Pete nodded his head, as if to say, "Of

course, I knew you'd find it."

"Does it mean that Uncle Mike is a theatrical company?" asked Andy,

eagerly.

"That's what it means, sonny, an' it means that Uncle Mike is goin' ter

play Philadelf fer the week wot begins on the eighth. So all yer've got

ter do is ter add that up an' there yer air. What! ain't we on ter his

nibs? Oh, no, I guess not!"

And Pete dashed his old hat down over his eyes and strutted around.

"You think my man is going on there to join the company?" asked Andy.

"Naw. The man with the kid is in Philadelf. That's the way I lay it

out."

"That's it," cried Andy. "I see! He wanted to get away on the steamer,

and Mr. Roberts was afraid there would be detectives on the watch; so he

dressed the little boy up just like Regy to make the trial first. Then,

when he found that the steamer would be watched, the man with Regy went

to Philadelphia."

"That sounds like it," said Pete, approvingly.

"Yes," continued Andy; "but I don't understand what Uncle Mike has to do

with it."

"No more do I," answered Pete. "But I tell yer what yer can do. Yer can

go on an' find out."

"Go to Philadelphia?" exclaimed Andy.

"Why not?"

"It'll take too much money."

"Huh! won't take a cent."

"Why not?"

"How fur is it?"

"I don't know. About a hundred miles, I think."

"Well, yer can walk, can't yer? Terday's the fifth, ain't it? That gives

yer till the eighth, an' a week more. It won't take us that long;"

"Us?"

"Yes. I'll go along ter take care o' yer."

Andy considered a moment.

"See here, Pete," he said, presently, "how do you come to know so much

about what the letter meant?"

"Been there," answered Pete.

"Been where?"

"In the show business. Greatest knock-about juvee-nile all-around dance

artist in the world! That's me. Too much knock-about fer me, an' I

skipped. Tra-la-la!"

And Pete made a comical show of skipping away.

It seemed to account for Pete's extreme shrewdness, and Andy had no

difficulty in believing him. He weighed the reasons for and against

going to Philadelphia after Regy on the strength of the letter.

It was only a chance that Regy would be found there; but it was a

chance, and he could not bear to throw it away. And why should he? There

was only the thought of his mother to deter him, and he was certain that

she would be easy about him if he wrote to her.

"Let's go, Pete. I'll write to mother and then we'll start."

"Have yer got a mother?" asked Pete, with a sort of eagerness.

"Yes," said Andy, "and a father, too. I'll tell you about them and what

I'm after soon as I get a chance. Come on while I buy a sheet of paper."

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

[_This Story began in No. 49._]

Mind Before Muscle;

or,

TRIALS AND TRIUMPHS.

by J.W. DAVIDSON,

Author of "Spud," "Hardy & Co.," "Rob

Archer's Trials," "Limpy Joe," "Harry

Irving's Pluck," etc., etc., etc.