The following day Conductor Tobin introduced his guests to a freight conductor on the Northern Central road, who, when he had heard their story, willingly consented to carry them on his train, which was to go out that night, as far as Baltimore.

This he did; and when they got there, they had not spent one cent of the money with which they had left Pittsburgh, and yet they had accomplished two thirds of their journey.

As the weather was pleasant, they decided to walk from Baltimore, at least as far as Washington. So the Northern Central conductor set them down at a small station just outside the city limits of Baltimore. Then, after pointing out the direction they were to take, he bade them good-by, and left them to pursue their journey on foot, with light hearts and a firm faith that they would speedily accomplish it.

From the very outset of this walk Arthur began to realize the value of the information given him long before, in the tramps’ camp on the Alleghany, regarding their peculiar signs, as inscribed on fences and gate-posts. While he and Uncle Phin had some money, it was so very little for the long journey still ahead of them, that they must use every means possible to save it. They did not expect to live at first-class hotels during their travels, or even in cheap lodging-houses. They only hoped to obtain permission to sleep in barns, or under haystacks if nothing better offered, and to buy their food of such farmers’ wives as would let them have what was left over from their own tables.

Therefore it became very important for them to know who were the liberal, good-natured people along their route, and which were the ones from whose doors they would be chased away by dogs, or threatened with shot-guns. To discover this Arthur kept a sharp look-out for signs by the roadside.

It was surprising, now that he began to look for them, and to discover for himself where to look, how many he found. There was hardly a dwelling along the way but what had the character of its inmates denoted by rude chalk marks on some conspicuous object in its immediate vicinity. So by applying only at the houses whose signs were favorable, they got along very nicely for three days. They were allowed to sleep in comfortable barns each night, and had several meals given to them without charge, though they always offered to pay for what they received. Thus, on the fourth day, when they expected to reach Washington, they had spent but one dollar of their little store.

As neither of them was used to walking, and as to Uncle Phin’s rheumatic stiffness of limb was now added a severe pain in the knee that had been injured by falling on the platform at Arden, their progress was very slow. It was so slow, in fact, that Arthur began to despair of ever completing their long journey on foot, and to wonder if no other means of travel could be found.

He was so busily thinking over the several plans that proposed themselves, on the evening of that fourth day, that he hardly paid any attention to the great white dome of the Capitol at Washington that, looming high above the city, marked the end of this stage of their journey. Nor did he pay much attention to the black clouds gathering overhead, until Uncle Phin, who was hobbling painfully along beside him, said: “We’se er gwine hab a storm, Honey, an I spec hits comin down rambumptious.” As he spoke there came a wild gust of wind accompanied by a flurry of rain.

They were on such a lonely stretch of road that there was no house in sight, and only a haystack in a neighboring field offered the slightest shelter. So they hurried to it, and burrowing under its leeward side, found there comparative protection from the storm, which they hoped would be of short duration.

But it lasted all night, with the wind shifting and blowing from every quarter; so that, after long hours of sleepless misery, the gray dawn found them soaked to the skin by the pitiless rain, faint with hunger, and shivering with cold.

With the first daylight they tried to move on in search of a house; but when poor Uncle Phin attempted to rise from his cramped position, he sank back with a groan. His injured knee had swollen and stiffened during the night, so that every effort to move it now gave him excruciating pain. He was entirely helpless; and the twelve-year-old boy, upon whom this new responsibility had so suddenly fallen, was, for a few moments, overwhelmed by it. Then he rallied bravely, and, saying, “I am going for help, Uncle Phin, but I’ll be back just as quick as I can,” he started on a run across the sodden field, toward the road.

In less than half an hour he returned with a team that he had discovered on its way to the city. Its driver agreed to take them as far as he went for two dollars, which sum Arthur gladly promised him. He would have given everything he possessed, and even willingly have resigned his prospects of finding a home, for the sake of getting his dear old friend to some shelter in which he could have warmth and food.

With great difficulty they got Uncle Phin into the wagon, where he lay with his head in Arthur’s lap. Two hours later they were established in an humble negro boarding-house, to which the driver of the wagon had taken them. Here they could have a small but neat and well-warmed room for a dollar a week, payable in advance.

Procuring a cup of hot tea and some broth for Uncle Phin, besides food for himself and Rusty, completely exhausted Arthur’s slender stock of money. So, when he had got Uncle Phin to bed, and seen that he was as comfortable as possible, the brave, tired little fellow started out into the strange city to try and earn some more.

That day he made twenty-five cents, by holding a horse for several hours, while its rider was attending to some business in one of the public buildings. Then, for several days, his fortunes fluctuated; on one of them he made a whole dollar by running errands, holding horses, carrying parcels for ladies who were shopping, and by doing, cheerfully and faithfully, from morning to night, everything that offered, no matter how hard or disagreeable it was. On other days he made nothing.

At length a piece of good fortune befell him. The holiday season was drawing near, and the business of the retail stores was greatly increased. The proprietor of one of them, who had noticed this cheerful little errand-boy waiting for odd jobs in front of his store, finally offered him regular work, for a few weeks, at fifty cents a day. For this he was always to be on hand to open the doors of carriages, carry parcels for shoppers to the horse-cars, and make himself generally useful outside the store.

In the meantime, poor Uncle Phin, stricken with rheumatic fever, lay suffering and groaning in his bed through the long, lonely days of several weeks, before he was again able to hobble about.

During these weeks of toil, suffering, and anxiety, little Rusty was Arthur’s constant companion and sole comforter, and the boy grew to love him better than anything on earth, except Uncle Phin. In going to and fro from his work each day, he passed a certain house, in which lived a gentleman who was very fond of dogs. This gentleman noticed Rusty, and took such a fancy to him that he several times offered to buy him. Arthur steadily refused these offers, until at length, when Christmas was past, and there was no more work for him at the store. Then he went to the gentleman’s house, and trying to speak bravely, but with quivering lips and tear-filled eyes, told him he might have the dear little dog for two tickets to Richmond.

Uncle Phin was again able to travel, and intensely anxious to continue their journey, so as to reach his old home “befo de dawn ob de New Yeah.” Arthur’s travels had taught him that railroad tickets cost money; but with all his efforts and self-denials, he had been unable to save anything from his scanty earnings. So, for Uncle Phin’s sake, he finally decided to sacrifice his dear Rusty, if by so doing he could obtain the means of getting to Richmond.

The gentleman gladly, and without asking any questions, accepted this strange offer, and sent a servant to procure the required tickets. Then the poor little fellow, after giving Rusty a long parting hug, ran home, with a heavy heart, and a suspicious moisture glistening in his eyes.

The next day they travelled in the cars to Richmond, and the mere knowledge that he was once more in old Virginia, seemed to infuse new life into Uncle Phin. Without a moment’s delay, they started to walk the ten miles of rough, frozen road that lay between the city and Dalecourt.

The old man’s strength lasted wonderfully, but it gave out when they were still two miles from their destination; and, tottering to the doorway of a dilapidated and deserted cabin, that stood on the roadside, he declared that he could go no farther, and begged his boy companion to go on without him.

To this Arthur would not listen for a moment; but, helping the old man into the cabin, he declared they could rest there very comfortably until morning. Then he gathered a quantity of sticks, broken branches, and small logs, which he piled in the big fireplace that filled one end of the cabin’s single room. He had just one match, but it did its duty, and soon a cheerful blaze was roaring up the old earthen chimney.

Grateful for its warmth, and for even this poor shelter, they prepared to pass, as best they might in this lonely place, the last night of the old year. There were no doors or windows to the cabin, so that everything they did might be plainly seen by any chance passers along that wintry road.

Arthur still had his book of fairy tales; and, as darkness set in, the old man begged him to read “jes one lilly story” from it, to help them forget their wretchedness. So, sitting in the brightest glow of the firelight, the boy bent his brave, careworn young face over the pages, and read the touching story of “The Little Match-Girl.”

Her situation and theirs were so much alike, that the story seemed very real to him; and as he started at the sound of a rustle behind him just as he closed the book, he looked up, almost expecting to see some beautiful vision. Nor was he disappointed. A dainty, richly-clad figure stood in the doorway. As the boy lifted his eyes he uttered a cry of mingled fear, amazement, and joy. The face into which he was looking was that of the beautiful lady who had given him this precious book, and who had written in it “To Prince Dusty, from his Fairy Godmother.”