"I hope to get back some of that," said our hero, stoutly.
"Did it ever strike you that there might be some risk encountering this man? If he is driven to bay he may become dangerous."
"I don't think of the danger, Mr. Turner," said Rufus. "I lost that box, and it is my duty to recover it if I can, danger or no danger."
Mr. Turner secretly admired the pluck of Rufus; but he was not a man given to compliments, so he only said, quietly, "Well, Rufus, you shall have the week I promised you. I have no doubt you will do your best. I shall not be surprised, however, if you fail."
So Rufus entered upon his second day's search.
He went up Chatham Street, and explored most of the streets intersecting it, visiting many places which he remembered as former haunts of his step-father. But he was quite off the track here. Martin's employment now was on the other side of the city, near the North River, and he had no longer occasion to visit his old haunts. Besides, he had again been sent over to New Jersey, and did not get back to the city at all till late in the afternoon.
The next day Martin complained of headache, and was permitted to remain at home. He did not think it prudent to be out during the day; but easily solaced himself in his confinement with whiskey and cigars, of which he had laid in a good supply. He was sitting in his shirt-sleeves at the front window, looking through the blinds, which were always closed, when his eyes lighted on Rufus passing on the opposite side of the street.
"He's looking for me," exclaimed Martin to himself, observing that Rufus was looking about him as he walked.
"Who's looking for you?" asked his confederate, Smith, who happened just then to enter the room.
"My undootiful son. Look, there he is," said Martin, nervously. "I wonder if he has heard about my living here."