"Shake on that, sonny," cried the officer. "I'm glad to meet a countryman, if he is young and out of luck."
"Do you come from Jersey City?" inquired Tommy.
"I do, and I fancy I've seen your face somewhere. Didn't you travel with Charley Barker, the undertaker's son?"
"Yes, sir," replied Tommy, eying the officer delightedly.
"And your name is——"
"Tommy Smithers."
At this answer the officer's face became very grave. He hesitated a moment.
"See here," he said. "They call me Boston Charley, and those who know me will tell you that I'm no tale carrier, but since I've happened to strike you in this odd way I'll let you know what I heard. Your father had to skip pretty lively from his home, and it is rumored that he went West—some say to California, some to Nevada."
"What for?"
"Well, if you must hear it, because he robbed his employers."