“I know that,” said Phil, warmly.
“Yes,” continued Mr. Welford. “He is undoubtedly careless, and his mind is occupied with too many things; but he is not dishonorable. And now, my boy, go home, and make yourself as easy as you can. I’ll find out how things are going on, and let you know. By the way, how did you manage that affair with the housekeeper? Have you discharged her?”
“Oh, no, sir!” said Phil. “That’s all right. We’re good friends again.”
“I am very glad to hear it,” said Mr. Welford. “That looks as if you were getting into the right way.”
And he laid his hand on Phil’s shoulder, which was a good deal for Mr. Welford to do for any boy.
When Phil left the banker’s office he made up his mind that his great duty was to find his uncle. This was the only thing that he could even try to do now; but how to set about it he did not know.
As he rode away, he saw a crowd of people running down towards the river-front of the town. He stopped a boy, and asked him what was the matter.
“The Thomas Wistar’s afire!” said the boy, as he scampered off.
Phil knew the Thomas Wistar very well. She was a large steamboat, which had run upon the river for many years. She was once a passenger-boat, but lately had been used to carry freight. At any other time he would have hurried down to the river with the crowd; but just now he felt that this was not the time for him to be going to fires. He must hasten home. Perhaps his uncle might be there.
He had not gone half a mile before he saw two men in a wagon driving rapidly towards him. Just as he reached them they turned into a crossroad which led down to the river. One of them called back to him,—