Julian broke into a run,—he knew he had no business to spend as much time in that express office as he had done,—and in a few minutes reached the headquarters of the Western Union Telegraph Company, in whose employ he was. He laid down his book of receipts for the dispatches he had delivered, then picked up his box again and stowed it away under the counter, where he was sure it would be out of everybody's way.
"I don't care," Julian repeated to himself, when he recalled what his older companion, Jack Shelden, would have to say to him when he found that he had been investing in "old horse." "I don't know that I expect to make anything out of it, but somehow or other I can't resist my curiosity to know what is in those bundles. When you can get the packages for little or nothing, where's the harm? But that is no way to save my money. I will never go near that express office again."
With this good resolution, Julian took his seat among the other boys and waited in silence for the operator to call upon him to deliver a dispatch. It came at last, and during the rest of the afternoon Julian was kept busy. When six o'clock came he put his box under his arm and started for home. His duties were done for that day.
The place that Julian called home was a long way from the office, for, being a poor boy, he was obliged to room where he could get it as cheaply as possible. He passed along several streets, turned numerous corners, and finally sprang up the stairs in a sorry-looking house which seemed almost ready to tumble down, and when he reached the top he found the door of his room open. There he met his chum, who had already returned from his work, going about his preparations for supper, and whistling as though he felt at peace with himself and all the world.
"Halloo!" he exclaimed, as Julian came in. "What's the news to-day? Well, there. If you haven't been to that old express office again!"
These two boys were orphans—or at least Jack was. Julian had a stepfather who, when his mother died, told the boy that he could not support him any longer, and that he must look out for himself. He no doubt expected that the boy would find himself in the poorhouse before he had been long out of his care; but Julian was not that sort of a fellow. He wandered aimlessly about the streets, looking for something to do, sleeping in dry-goods boxes or on a plank in some lumber-yard; and one morning, while passing along the street, wondering where he was going to get something to eat, he saw a scene that thrilled him with excitement. A span of horses was running away, and a telegraph operator—Julian knew that he was an operator from the uniform he wore—in making an attempt to stop them, lost his footing and fell on the ground right in front of the frantic team. Julian was nearer to him than anybody else, and acting upon the impulse of the moment, but scarcely knowing why he did so, he dashed forward, seized the young man by the shoulders, and pulled him out of the way. It was all done in an instant, and Julian shuddered when he thought of what he had done.
"Thank you, my lad," said the man, when he got up, brushed the dust from his clothes, and looked after the flying horses. "You saved my life, but you couldn't save the man in the buggy. Now, what can I give you?"
"I don't want anything, sir," said Julian. The man was neatly dressed, and looked as though he had some money, and Julian had more than half a mind to ask him for enough with which to get some breakfast. But he concluded that he would not do it; he would look farther, and he was sure that he could get something to do, such as sweeping out a store, and earn some breakfast in that way.
"You don't want anything?" exclaimed the man. "Well, you are the luckiest fellow I ever saw!"
The man now turned and gave Julian a good looking over. It was not necessary that he should ask any questions, for poverty was written all over him.