"I've got it!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

Rufus sprang to his feet, and hurried up to him.

"You're a trump!" he said. "How did you get hold of it?"

"I haven't time to tell you now. We must be goin', or Mr. Smith may come back and stop us."

"All right!" said Rufus; "I'm ready."

The two boys ran downstairs, and, opening the front door, made their egress into the street, Rufus with the tin box under his arm.

"Where will we go?" asked Humpy.

"Are you going with me?"

"Yes, I want that money."

"You shall have it. You have fairly earned it, and I'll see that you get it, if I have to pay it out of my own pocket."

"I shan't go back," said Humpy.

"Why not?"

"He'll know I let you out. He'll murder me if I go back."

"I'll be your friend. I'll get you something to do," said Rufus.

"Will you?" said the hunchback, brightening up.

"Yes. I won't forget the service you have done me."

Rufus had hardly got out these words when Humpy clutched him violently by the arm, and pulled him into a pa.s.sageway, the door of which was open to the street.

"What's that for?" demanded Rufus, inclined to be angry.

Humpy put his finger to his lip, and pointed to the street. On the opposite sidewalk Rufus saw Smith sauntering easily along with a cigar in his mouth.

CHAPTER XXIV.

HOW RUFUS GOT BACK.

It happened that Smith espied the man whom he wished to meet, from the car-window, just as it turned into Ca.n.a.l Street. He got out, therefore, and, adjourning to a whiskey saloon, the two discussed a matter of business in which they were jointly interested, and then separated. Thus Smith was enabled to return home sooner than he had antic.i.p.ated. He little suspected that his prisoner had escaped, as he walked complacently by on the opposite sidewalk.

"It's lucky I saw him," said Humpy. "He might have nabbed us."

"He wouldn't have nabbed me," said Rufus, resolutely. "He'd have found it hard work to get me back."

"He's stronger than you," said Humpy, doubtfully.

"I'd have called a copp, then," said Rufus, using his old word for policeman.

"He'll kill me if he ever gets hold of me," said Humpy, shuddering. "He horsewhipped me yesterday."

"Then he's a brute," said Rufus, who could not help feeling a degree of sympathy for the deformed boy, who had done him such good service.

"He never did it before," said Humpy. "That's what made me turn against him."

"And you won't go back to him?"

"_Never!_" said Humpy, decidedly. "He'll know I let you out."

"What's your name?" asked Rufus, remembering that he had never heard the name of his guide.

"They call me Humpy," said the deformed boy, flushing a little. He had got hardened to the name, he thought; but now that Rufus asked him, he answered with a feeling of shame and reluctance.

"Haven't you another name? I don't like to call you that."

"My name is William Norton, but I've most forgot it, it's so long since anybody ever called me so."

"Then I'll call you so. I like it better than the other. Have you made up your mind what to do, now you've left your old place?"

"Yes, I'm going out West,--to Chicago maybe."

"Why do you leave New York?"

"I want to get away from _him_," said William, indicating his old employer by a backward jerk of his finger. "If I stay here, he'll get hold of me."

"Perhaps you are right; but you needn't go so far as Chicago.

Philadelphia would do."

"He goes there sometimes."

"What will you do in Chicago?"

"I'll get along. There's a good many things I can do,--black boots, sell papers, smash baggage, and so on. Besides, I'll have some money."

"The fifty dollars I am to give you?"

"I've got more besides," said Humpy, lowering his voice. Looking around cautiously, lest he might be observed, he drew out the calico bag which contained his savings, and showed to Rufus.

"There's twenty dollars in that," he said, jingling the coins with an air of satisfaction. "That'll make seventy when you've paid me."

"I'm glad you've got so much, William. Where did you get it all?"