In a few minutes the lad came in.

He wore an old suit, one he had caught up when escaping from Porler. He blushed as he took Leo's hand.

"You will have to excuse my appearance," he said. "But you are aware it cannot be helped."

"Yes, Mart, I understand it all. I am glad you escaped from Porler."

"I must thank you for what you did for me," went on Mart. "You are as brave as you are daring."

"Don't mention that, Mart. It was a pleasure to be of service to you.

Let me know how I can serve you further."

There was a silence, and the lad cast down his eyes.

"I must be frank with you," he said at last. "I am without a friend in the world and likewise without a dollar."

The young gymnast smiled faintly.

"My boy, allow me to contradict you," he said. "Neither statement is true. I am your friend."

The boy's face lit up.

"I thought you would be my friend, you seemed so generous. And I wanted a small loan, so that I might get away from Mr. Porler. I never want to see that man again."

"As I said before, what I have is at your service."

"Will you loan me ten dollars?"

"Yes, and more. Here are twenty dollars. Accept them as a loan, to be paid back at any time that suits you."

And Leo handed out the amount.

Mart blushed as he accepted the bills.

"I shall never forget you, never!" he murmured, and put the money away.

"I will repay you as soon as I am able."

"Be in no hurry. What are you going to do, if I may ask?"

"I am going to try to hunt up an uncle of mine," said Mart. "If I can only find him, I think he will give me a home. If I am not mistaken, he is holding some property which belongs to me."

"Where does your uncle live?" questioned Leo with interest.

"That I do not know. I will have to advertise for information, I presume."

"Up-hill work, that. What is your uncle's name?"

"Daniel Hawkins."

"Daniel Hawkins," repeated Leo, leaping to his feet in astonishment.

"Yes. Why, you act as if you knew him," returned Mart.

"Know him? Well, I rather guess I do," returned the young gymnast bitterly.

"Oh, I am so glad!"

"And I'm sorry."

"Sorry? Why?"

"You need expect nothing from your uncle, Mart."

"Oh, don't say that!" and the boy grew pale.

"I might as well be plain with you, even if it does hurt. There is no use in building up false hopes."

"You must know my uncle well."

"I worked for him for a long while-he acted as if he owned me. He is a miserable skinflint, nothing less. If you go to him he will work you to death and treat you worse than a slave. He never lets up on anybody, not even his own relations."

And then and there Leo sat down again and told his story-how he had slaved for the farmer and run away and become a professional circus performer.

Mart listened with interest, his face growing paler as he proceeded.

"You are right; I have nothing to expect from him, even though he was my mother's own half-brother."

"Won't you tell me your story?" asked Leo.

"Willingly, if you care to listen to it."

And then Mart told how he had been an orphan for ten years. His father had been an actor and his mother a comic-opera singer.

"The Hawkinses never had much to do with us after mother went on the stage," he said. "That is how I lost track of my uncle."

Then he told of his mother's death in New Orleans and how he had been cast out on the streets by an old woman with whom they boarded. He had danced down in the French quarter, and there Porler had picked him up.

"He promised me so many things that I went with him willingly," he said.

"But it was a great mistake."

The two talked matters over for a long while-until nearly midnight-and then Leo made a proposition.

"I am sure you will not find living with Daniel Hawkins agreeable," he said. "So I am going to make you an offer. If you wish to travel with the circus I will try to arrange it for you. I think I can get you a place at eight or ten dollars a week to go up in the balloon with me."

"Thank you; I'd like that," replied Mart Keene.