When Mr. Ackerman's car rolled up to the hotel later in the morning the puzzle no longer lacked a solution for in the automobile beside the steamboat magnate sat Dick Martin, the lad of the pocketbook adventure. At first glance Steve scarcely recognized the boy, such a transformation had taken place in his appearance. He wore a new suit of blue serge, a smartly cut reefer, shiny shoes, a fresh cap, and immaculate linen. Soap and water, as well as a proper style of haircut had added their part to the miracle until now, with face glowing and eyes alight with pleasure, Dick was as attractive a boy as one would care to see.

"I have brought Dick along with me, you see," the New Yorker explained, when the three were in the car and speeding up Fifth Avenue. "He and I have been shopping and now he is coming home to stay with me until we hear from one of the schools to which I have written. If they can find a place for him he will start at once. Then he is going to study hard and see what sort of a man he can make of himself. I expect to be very proud of him some day."

The lad flushed.

"I am going to do my best," said he, in a low tone.

"That is all any one can do, sonny," declared Mr. Ackerman kindly. "You'll win out. Don't you worry! I'm not."

He smiled and Dick smiled back timidly.

"Have you been up to Mr. Ackerman's house yet and seen the boats?" Stephen asked, to break the pause that fell between them.

"His collection, you mean? Sure! I'm—staying there."

"Living there, sonny," put in the financier.

"Then I suppose he's told you all about them," went on Stephen, a hint of envy in his tone.

"I haven't yet," laughed their host, "for there hasn't been time. Dick only left the hotel yesterday and we have had a great deal to do since. We had to go to his lodgings and say good-by to the people there who have been kind to him and tell them why he was not coming back. And then there were errands and many other things to see to. So he has not been at home much yet," concluded Mr. Ackerman, with a kindly emphasis on the final sentence.

Dick beamed but it was evident that the magnitude of his good fortune had left him too overwhelmed for words.

Perhaps neither of the boys minded that there was little conversation during the drive for there was plenty to see and to Dick Martin, at least, an
automobile ride was such an uncommon experience that it needed no embellishments. They rode up Morningside Drive and back again, looking down on the river as they went, and exclaiming when some unusual craft passed them. Evidently Mr. Ackerman was quite content to let matters take their natural course; but he was not unmindful of his guests and when at last he saw a shadow of fatigue circle Dick's eyes and give place to the glow of excitement that had lighted them he said:

"Now suppose we go back to the house for a while. We have an hour or more before Stephen has to rejoin his father and you two chaps can poke about the suite. What do you say?"

Steve was all enthusiasm. He had been quietly hoping there would be a chance for him to have another peep at the wonderful steamboats.

"I'd like nothing better!" was his instant reply. "I did not see half I wanted to when I was there before, and we go home to-morrow, you know. If I don't see your ships and things to-day I never shall."

"Oh, don't say that!" Mr. Ackerman said quickly. "You and Dick and I are going to be great friends. We are not going to say good-by and never see one another any more. Sometime you will be coming to New York again, I hope. However, if he wants to have a second glimpse of our boats now we'll let him, won't we, Dick?"

Again the boy smiled a timid smile into his benefactor's face.
"I wish you'd tell me about this queer little old-fashioned boat." Page 181.
"I wish you'd tell me about this queer little old-fashioned boat." Page 181.

It did not take long to reach the house and soon the three were in the wonderful room with its panorama of ships moving past the windows and its flotilla of still more ships decorating the walls.

"Now you boys go ahead and entertain yourselves as you please," Mr. Ackerman said. "I am going to sit here and read the paper; but if there is anything you want to ask me you are welcome to do so."

Stephen strolled over to the mantelpiece and stood before the model of the quaint side-wheeler that had held his attention at the time of his first visit; then he stole a furtive glance at the man in the big chair.

"Did you really mean, Mr. Ackerman," he faltered, "that we could ask you questions?"

"Certainly."

"Then I wish you'd tell me about this queer little old-fashioned boat, and how you happened to put it between this up-to-date ocean liner and this battleship."

The elder man looked up.

"That boat that interests you is a model of Fulton's steamboat—or at least as near a model as I could get," explained he. "I put it there to show the progress we have made in shipbuilding since that day."

Steve laughed.

"I see the progress all right," replied he, "but I am afraid I do not know much about Fulton and his side-wheeler."

Mr. Ackerman let the paper slip into his lap.

"I assumed every boy who went to school learned about Robert Fulton," answered he, half teasingly and yet with real surprise.

"I suppose I ought to have learned about him," retorted Stephen, with ingratiating honesty, "and maybe I did once. But if I did I seem to have forgotten about it. You see there are such a lot of those old chaps who did things that I get them all mixed up."

Apparently the sincerity of the confession pleased the capitalist for he laughed.

"I know!" returned he sympathetically. "Every year more and more things roll up to remember, don't they? Had we lived long ago, before so many battles and discoveries had taken place, and so many books been written, life would have been much simpler. Now the learning of all the ages comes piling down on our heads. But at least you can congratulate yourself that you are not so badly off as the boys will be a hundred years hence; they, poor things, will have to learn all about what we have been doing, and if the world progresses as rapidly in history and in science as it is doing now, I pity them. Not only will they have to go back to Fulton but to him they will probably have to add a score of other inventors."

Both boys joined in the steamboat man's hearty laugh.

"Well, who was Fulton, anyway, Mr. Ackerman?" Stephen persisted.

"If you want me to tell you that Robert Fulton was the first American to make a successful steamboat I can give you that information in a second," was the reply. "But if you wish to hear how he did it that is a much longer story."

"I like stories," piped Dick from the corner of the couch where he was sitting.

"So do I," echoed Steve.

"Then I see there is no help for me!" Mr. Ackerman answered, taking off his spectacles and putting them into the case.

With an anticipatory smile Stephen seated himself on the great leather divan beside the other boy.

"Before the steamboat came," began Mr. Ackerman, "you must remember that paddle wheels had long been used, for both the Egyptians and the Romans had built galleys with oars that moved by a windlass turned by the hands of slaves or by oxen. Later there were smaller boats whose paddle wheels were driven by horses. So you see paddle wheels were nothing new; the world was just waiting for something that would turn them around. After the Marquis of Worcester had made his steam fountain he suggested that perhaps this power might be used to propel a boat but unfortunately he died before any experiments with the idea could be made. Various scientists, however, in Spain, France, England and Scotland caught up the plan but after struggling unsuccessfully with it for a time abandoned it as impractical. In 1802 Lord Dundas, a proprietor in one of the English
canals, made an encouraging start by using a tow-boat with a paddle wheel at its stern. But alas, this contrivance kicked up such a fuss in the narrow stream that it threatened to tear the banks along the edge all to pieces and therefore it was given up and for ten years afterward there was no more steamboating in England."

The boys on the couch chuckled.

"In the meantime in America thoughtful men were mulling over the problem of steam navigation. Watt's engine had opened to the minds of inventors endless possibilities; and the success of the early railroads made many persons feel that a new era of science, whose wonders had only begun to unfold, was at hand. In Connecticut there lived a watchmaker by the name of John Fitch, who, although he knew little of the use of steam, knew much about machinery. Through the aid of a company that furnished him with the necessary money he built a steamboat which was tried out in 1787 and made three miles an hour. Of course it was not a boat like any of ours for it was propel............