A few minutes later found Matt on his way to the Columbus Hotel. The Bowery was crowded with all classes of people, some just returning from work, and others out sightseeing and buying, but the boy had no difficulty in making his way along at a rapid gait. In less than a quarter of an hour he reached the hotel and entered the office. He was about to accost the clerk at the desk, when somebody tapped him on the shoulder, and turning he saw Andrew Dilks.

“I have been watching for you,” said the young man. “I was a little afraid you might disappoint me.”

“I was detained,” said Matt. “But I am at your service now. Where shall we go?”

“My room is rather small and warm, but it is more private than the reading-room down here,” returned Andrew Dilks. “Suppose we go up there. You can sit by the window and get what little breeze there is.”

They started for the stairs (there was no elevator, as in all better-class hotels), and were soon comfortably seated in Andrew Dilks’ room, an apartment on the third floor, in the rear.

“It’s not a very elegant place,” remarked the young man apologetically, “but it’s cheap, and that’s what I wanted. A fellow can’t spend his money and save it, too.”

“You are right there.”

“As I said before, old Gulligan only gave me ten dollars a week, and out of that I had to pay for many articles that got broken. He put off what he could on me, whether it was my fault or not.”

“I believe you said you had a hundred and thirty-five dollars?”

“Yes. It’s not much, but it’s something. I wish you had as much. I’ve figured it that we might start with a single horse and an ordinary covered wagon on two hundred and seventy dollars, and still keep twenty dollars in cash for emergencies.”

“I have an idea I can raise the amount.”

“You can? Good enough!”

“But, first, I want you to give me some of the particulars of your scheme.”

“I’ll do that willingly. I want you to understand every detail before you invest. Then you will know just what to expect.”

Andrew Dilks brought out a sheet of paper and a pencil and began to do some figuring.

“We will put down our combined capital at two hundred and fifty dollars,” he said. “Now, what can we get a good horse for?”

“Two hundred dollars!” laughed Matt.

“You are right, but we must get one cheaper.”

“Supposing we look around for a bargain at one hundred dollars, then?”

“That is nearer the figure. We do not want a fancy animal nor a particularly fast one. A horse that can pull our wagon ten to twenty miles a day once or twice a week will answer.”

“Yes; we can trade him off for something better later on.”

“Now, I’ll put down a hundred for the horse. The wagon ought not to cost over fifty or sixty dollars.”

“Make it seventy-five for wagon and harness,” said Matt.

“It will foot up to two hundred with rubber blankets and extras.”

“I suppose it will. Well, even that will leave us with fifty dollars for stock.”

“Will that be enough?”

“We’ll make it do. If we run out I can leave you with the turnout, and come back to New York and buy more, and have it shipped as freight to the nearest railroad station.”

“I see. I suppose they do not do any trusting with auctioneers?”

“Not with such traveling auctioneers as we will be. I would rather buy for cash, anyway, for you can buy much cheaper.”

“I suppose you can. What would you take along, and where would you go?”

“My idea for the balance of this summer would be to strike out through New York State down into Pennsylvania, and then across to New Jersey. Then we can rent a store in some small town for the winter, especially for the holidays, and start out early in the spring for the New England States.”

This plan met with Matt’s approval, and he asked what goods Andrew Dilks thought would be the most profitable to take along.

“I have a list here in my pocket,” returned the young man, bringing it forth. “You see, it includes fancy articles and statuary, besides cheap watches, table cutlery, spoons, imitation gold rings, such musical instruments as accordions, banjos and violins, albums, razors, whips, and a dozen others. That ought to meet the wants in almost any small town.”

“Can you play the musical instruments?” asked Matt.

“I can play the accordion – not very well, but enough to show the instrument off.”

“I can play the banjo, and also the harmonica. You had better lay in a stock of mouth harmonicas.”

“I certainly will if you can play them. They will sell readily if they are shown off. It is good you can play the banjo. We can play that and the accordion whenever we want to open up, and thus attract a crowd. Some use a bell, but music, even when it is poor, is better. Sometimes I used to sing a comic song or two for old Gulligan when we were on the road, but I didn’t much care to do it.”

“No, I wouldn’t like that,” said Matt.

“Gulligan sold lots of what are called ‘fake’ goods,” went on Andrew Dilks. “But my intention is to sell honest goods and sell them for just what they are. We will perhaps not make as much, but people will be better pleased, and they will not want to run us out of town if we ever go back to the same place again.”

“I am with you there,” said Matt heartily. “I was afraid you might want to palm off a lot of trash for first-class goods and I didn’t want to be a party to any such transaction.”

They continued to talk the subject over for fully an hour, and by that time both understood each other thoroughly, and had decided, if Matt could raise the necessary cash, to go into the scheme without delay.

“You see, we ought to do all the traveling possible before cold weather sets in,” said Andrew Dilks. “It is in the villages where the most money is to be made, especially now, when the farmers are about done harvesting and have some ready cash.”

“As I am out of work, I can start the moment I get the money,” said Matt. “And even if I don’t get that other money, I am willing to put in every cent of what I have now.”

On the following morning Matt was surprised to receive another visit from Ida Bartlett, who had eaten an unusually early breakfast so that she might come over before going to work.

“I knew you would be anxious to hear from me,” she said. “It is all right. The others are willing to let you have the money for a year at the regular bank interest, three per cent.”

“Thank you, and I’ll try to pay it back before the year is out,” returned Matt, much relieved.

“And you have arranged to go into the scheme? It is all satisfactory?”

“Yes.”

“Good! I wish you every success.”

CHAPTER VIII.
AN UNEXPECTED SET-BACK

The next three days were busy ones for Matt and his newly-made partner. After they had drawn up and signed such papers as they deemed proper between themselves, they set out to look for a horse and wagon.

Andrew Dilks had cut several advertisements of bargains from the morning papers, and these they hunted up one after another.

The so-styled bargains proved to be more or less false. In nearly every instance they ran across some shrewd horse-dealer, who, under pretense of selling an outfit for a widow, or man who had left the city, tried to palm off on them an animal and wagon not worth taking away.

Late in the afternoon, however, when they were almost ready to give up and go to a regular dealer, they ran across a German baker who was selling out at a private sale.

“I vos go to Chermany next veek,” he explained to the two. “Mine old fadder vos dead, and he vos left me all his land and houses in Bremen. See, I vos shown you der letter from der lawyers vot have his vill got.”

And he produced a large letter-head, upon which was written a dozen lines in German, which neither could read.

“Never mind that,” said Andrew. “Show us your horse and wagon, and set a bottom cash price on them.”

“Come dis vay.”

The baker led the way around the corner to a boarding-stable, and brought forth a good, chunky brown-and-white horse, that did not look to be over six years old.

“Stand around, Billy!” he cried. “Dere he vos, chentlemen, and chust so goot a horse as der vos in New York.”

“Anything the matter with him?” asked Matt, as he began an examination of the animal.

“Not a ding, sir. He vos sound as a tollar, and chentle as a lamb. I vos use him on der bread route for a year and more.”

“And where is the wagon?” questioned Andrew Dilks.

“Here vos der wagon,” said the baker, as he ran the vehicle out so that they might look it over.

It was a four-wheeled affair, quite large and heavy. There was one seat in the center, and before and behind this were two big boxes, each with a hinged lid. In the rear was a rack for pies and cakes. There was also a box under the seat, and a money drawer which opened with a concealed push button.

“This is just the thing for us,” whispered Andrew to Matt. “For a one-horse wagon, it could not be better arranged. The running gear seems to be in good condition, too.”

“Vell, vot you dinks of them?” asked the baker, after they had finished their survey.

“Where is the harness?” asked Matt.

“Here she vos, new two veeks ago, and here vos der vip, too.”

“And what is the lowest you can take for the rig?” asked Andrew. “We are willing to pay spot cash, but cannot afford a fancy figure.”

“I vos sold der whole dings for dree hundred dollar.”

At this announcement Matt’s face fell. Three hundred dollars! It was more than they had to spend for both turnout and stock.

“Three hundred dollars,” repeated Andrew Dilks. “If that’s the case, we can’t do business with you.”

“Dot’s too pad. How much you gif, hey?”

“We will give you a hundred and seventy-five.”

At this announcement the German baker held up his hands in horror, and muttered a number of ejaculations in his native tongue.

“Make it two hundred and seventy-five,” he said.

“We can’t do it.”

“Den take der turnout for two hundred and fifty.”

“No, we can’t do it,” said Matt, and with a wink to Andrew Dilks, he pulled his companion toward the stable doors.

“Hold up!” shouted the baker, in alarm. “Don’t go yet, chentlemen. Make dot figure two hundred and twenty-five, and it vos more as tog cheap at dot.”

“Perhaps it is, but we can’t afford to pay it.”

“If I could haf der dime to sell, I vos got more as dot, chentlemen.”

“Perhaps so,” returned Matt. “But you haven’t got to accept our offer, you know. We’ll look around for something cheaper.”

“You vill bay cash on der spot?”

“Yes; but you must give us a free and clear bill of sale.”

“I vos do dot. Make it chust two hundred dollar.”

But Andrew Dilks had set his mind on getting a further reduction, and at last the bargain was settled, and they paid over a hundred and ninety dollars for the turnout, leaving them still ten dollars to expend upon rubber blankets and other necessary articles.

The purchase completed, they made arrangements with the boarding-stable keeper to keep the horse and wagon for them until the following Monday morning. In the meantime they procured some paint, and painted over the baker’s signs on the wagon, and then Andrew, who was a fair letterer, painted on each side of the wagon-cover the following:

THE EUREKA AUCTION COMPANY

Best and Cheapest Goods on Earth

“There, that ought to attract attention wherever we go,” said Andrew when the job was finished. “The word company makes it sound big, and we can call ourselves a company as well as not.”

On Friday and Saturday the two made a tour of the wholesale houses in New York, and Andrew expended the fifty dollars as judiciously as possible in the purchase of goods. As business was rather slow, and ready money scarce, he struck several decided bargains, especially in cutlery and musical instruments. He had all of the goods sent up to the stable, and the two worked until ten o’clock Saturday night stowing away all of the stock in their wagon.

“Now, we are all ready for the start on Monday morning,” said Andrew as the two walked away from the stable.

“Yes, but we haven’t decided where we shall go first yet,” returned Matt.

“Let us leave that until the last minute. We know about where we are going, and it doesn’t make much difference what villages we strike so long as we do the business.”

Sunday passed quickly enough for Matt. He attended church and the Sunday-school into which Ida Bartlett had introduced him, and in the evening he packed his valise with all of his worldly possessions. Ida Bartlett also came over to bid him good-by, and remained to give him such advice as he might have received from an elder sister.

Matt had arranged to meet Andrew at the stable at six o’clock sharp, and quarter of an hour before the appointed time found him on his way to the place, valise in hand.

“I’ll show Andrew that I mean to be on time,” he thought to himself, as he turned into the street upon which the stable was situated.

Suddenly he saw a crowd running up from the block below. There were at least a dozen men and boys, some of whom were shouting at the top of their lungs:

“Fire! fire!”

“Fire!” repeated Matt quickly. “I wonder where it can be?”

But hardly had he uttered the words than, happening to glance toward the stable in which their turnout was located, he saw a thick volume of smoke come pouring out of several of the upper windows.

“My gracious!” he gasped, his face blanching. “It’s that stable, and our horse and wagon with the stock still inside!”

“That place is doomed!” said a man beside Matt. “See how the fire is gaining headway! They won’t be able to save a single horse or anything else!”

CHAPTER IX.
THE RESULT OF A FIRE

It was no wonder that Matt’s heart was filled with dismay when he saw the stable which contained the auction outfit being thus rapidly devoured by the flames. Almost every cent he possessed was invested in the horse, wagon and stock, and if they were consumed he would be left in New York City next to penniless.

Close to where he was standing was a grocery store, and rushing into this he threw his valise on the counter.

“Keep this for me, please!” he cried to the proprietor. “I want to try to save my horse and wagon!”

And before the grocer could reply he was out of the store again, and running toward the burning stable as fast as his feet could carry him.

When he reached the front of the building, which was three stories high, and quite broad and deep, he found an excited mob of stable-hands, cab-drivers and tradespeople assembled, each trying to get inside to save his belongings.

The owner of the stable was also present, having just arrived, and was directing, or trying to direct, the movements of the highly excited ones.

“Go into the alley on the left!” he shouted. “You can get more out of the side doors. The smoke is blowing too thickly out here!”

A rush was made for the alley and Matt got into the midst of the crowd. The side doors, to which the owner of the stable had referred, were found to be securely bolted from the inside.

“Get some axes!”

“Get a log and smash in the doors!”

“Never mind that!” yelled Matt. “I’ll climb through one of the windows and open the door!”

“Good for the boy!”

“Give me a boost up, somebody!”

Half a dozen willing hands raised Matt’s form to one of the small side windows, and an instant later the boy’s form disappeared within the smoke-laden building.

“He can’t stand it in there!”

“He’ll be smothered to death!”

Once inside, Matt found it advisable to crouch low down to the floor, for the smoke did, indeed, almost smother him. He could see but little, and had to feel his way out of a stall, and across the floor to where the doors he wished to open were located.

“I’m afraid our nag will be a goner!” he thought dismally. “A horse never can stand anything in the shape of a fire.”

At last the doors were reached. Fortunately, he found the bolts at once, and lost not a second in drawing them from their sockets. Then he gave the doors a kick outward, and willing hands flung them far back against the side of the building. Then came a rush of men and boys, all eager to save something. For the moment it looked as if Matt would be carried from his feet.

“Here, don’t knock me down!” he cried. “Remember, I opened the doors for you.”

“So he did!” returned a burly cab driver. “Give the lad a show!”

And then Matt was given room. He quickly found his way through the smoke and heat to where the wagon stood, ready for the start on the road. The horse was but a few feet away snorting in alarm.

Matt had handled horses before, and he now knew just the best possible thing to do. Taking off his coat, he flung it over Billy’s head, thus completely blindfolding him. Then he led the animal out of the stall, and started him toward the open doors.

“Hi, Matt, is that you?” yelled a voice close at hand.

“Yes, Andy, and I’m glad you have come. See if you can pull the wagon out.”

“Can you manage Billy alone?”

“I think I can.”

But Matt had his hands full, as he soon learned. Billy was not in the humor to listen and walk the way he desired. He pranced about wildly, and the boy had all he could do to keep from having his feet stepped upon.

But at last Matt managed to reach the open doors, and then he gave the horse a sharp cut on the flank, which sent him up the alley on a canter. The boy did not wait to ascertain how far Billy might continue on his way, but turned swiftly to help his partner, who was straining every nerve to budge the wagon from its resting-place.

“The floor is up-hill to the side doors!” gasped Andrew Dilks. “We can’t get it out, I’m afraid!”

“We must get it out!” returned Matt desperately. “Let me get hold of the shafts and you push. And be quick, for the floor overhead looks as if it was going to give away at any minute!”

Andy did as Matt directed, and together they strained to their utmost. At first the wagon, heavily loaded, refused to budge, but then it moved slowly from its place against the wall.

“Hurrah! we are getting it!” cried Andrew Dilks. “Be sure and guide it right, Matt. Can you see, or is the smoke too thick for you?”

“I can see; but – hold on, or we’ll smash into that other wagon.”

Matt held back, and allowed another wagon to pass out first. In the meantime, the burning brands from overhead were coming down livelier than ever. One caught Matt on the left arm, burning the flesh slightly, and another landed on Andrew Dilks’ neck, causing the auctioneer to howl with sudden pain.

Outside could be heard the whistle of fire-engines and the clanging of hook-and-ladder truck bells. Then came a heavy stream of water from somewhere behind them, nearly lifting Andy from his feet.

But the way was now once more clear, and Matt yelled to his partner to push. Both exerted every nerve, and ten seconds later the wagon rolled out of the open doors, and was guided by Matt up the alley.

“Thank goodness we are out!” panted the boy, as they brought the wagon to a standstill in the midst of half a dozen carriages. “Another minute in there would just about have settled me.”

“Yes, it was getting dangerous,” returned Andy, with a serious shake of his head, as he tied his handkerchief over his burned neck. “Hark! what is that?”

His words were called forth by a dull boom, which made the soft dirt in the alley quake.

“The upper flooring has come down!” shouted several in the crowd.

“They won’t be able to get any more stuff out now!”

“We were just in time,” remarked Matt, with a shiver. “Supposing we had been in there when that flooring, with all the burning hay and those sleighs that were stored there, came down!”

“We ought to be very thankful, not only for that, but for being able to save our wagon and our horse. If they had been burned up we would have been next door to beggars!”

“By the way, where is Billy?” cried Matt. “I don’t see him anywhere around.”

“I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Stay here with the wagon and I’ll hunt him up,” replied Matt; and he started off without further delay.

The alleyway had now become so choked up with vehicles, horses, and people that it was with great difficulty that he fought his way through the dense mass out to the next street. Once here, he looked up and down for the horse, but could see nothing of him.

“Did you see anything of a brown and white horse around here?” he asked of a stable-hand standing near.

“Yes; just saw him gallop up the street,” was the reply. “You had better jump on a horse-car if you want to catch him.”

“You saw him run clean out of sight, then?”

“Yes; he must be halfway up to Harlem by this time.”

Matt waited to hear no more, but boarded the first horse-car which came along bound north. He took a position on the front platform, and as they moved along kept his eyes open for a sight of the animal in which he owned a half-interest.

Ten blocks had been passed, and the boy was beginning to grow anxious, when, chancing to look over the fence of a small yard adjoining a blacksmith shop, he saw a horse standing tied to a post. A second look convinced him that it was Billy, and he at once leaped from the moving car and hurried toward the place.

“Well, sir, what can I do for you?” asked the blacksmith, a tall, heavy-set fellow, as he left his bellows, where he had been blowing up the fire.

“I’ll take my horse, please,” returned Matt.

“Your horse? Which horse is that?”

“The runaway you just caught.”

“I haven’t any runaway,” returned the blacksmith boldly.

“What?” cried the boy in amazement. “Why, of course you have. He is tied to the post in the yard.”

“No runaway here.”

“I mean the brown and white horse.”

“That horse was just left here to be shod.”

For the moment Matt was too dumfounded to speak.

“To be shod?” he said at last. “Who left him here?”

“A colored man. I don’t know his name.”

“But he is my horse, and he doesn’t need shoeing.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” returned the blacksmith darkly. “He was left here and that’s all I know about it. You’ll have to hunt up the colored man, and fix it up with him if you want the horse.”