Robert Coverdale's Struggle

By HORATIO ALGER, Jr. 

Author of "Tom Temple's Career, "

"Tom Thatcher's Fortune, " "Tom Turner's Legacy, "

"The Train Boy, " Etc. 

A. L. BURT COMPANY, PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK

ROBERT COVERDALE'S STRUGGLE

CHAPTER I

A FISHERMAN'S CABIN

"Robert, have you seen anything of your uncle?"

"No, aunt. "

"I suppose he's over at the tavern as usual, " said the womandespondently. "He drinks up about all he earns, and there's littleenough left for us. I hope you won't follow in his steps, Robert. "

"You may be sure I won't, Aunt Jane, " said the boy, noddingemphatically. "I wouldn't drink a glass of rum for a hundred dollars. "

"God keep you in that resolution, my dear boy! I don't want my sister'sson to go to destruction as my husband is doing. "

My story opens in a small fishing village on the coast of one of the NewEngland States. Robert Coverdale, whom I have briefly introduced, is theyoung hero whose fortunes I propose to record. 

He is a strong, well-made boy, with a frank, honest face, embrowned byexposure to the sun and wind, with bright and fearless eyes and a manlylook. I am afraid his dress would not qualify him to appear to advantagein a drawing-room. 

He wore a calico shirt and well-patched trousers of great antiquity andstockings and cowhide shoes sadly in need of repairs. 

Some of my well-dressed boy readers, living in cities and large towns, may be disposed to turn up their noses at this ragged boy and wonder atmy taste in choosing such a hero. 

But Robert had manly traits, and, in spite of his poor clothes, possessed energy, talent, honesty and a resolute will, and a boy soendowed cannot be considered poor, though he does not own a dollar, which was precisely Robert's case. 

Indeed, I may go further and say that never in the course of his life offifteen years had he been able to boast the ownership of a hundredcents. 

John Trafton, his uncle, was a fisherman. His small house, or cabin, waspicturesquely situated on the summit of a cliff, at the foot of whichrolled the ocean waves, and commanded a fine sea view. 

That was perhaps its only recommendation, for it was not only small, butfurnished in the plainest and scantiest style. The entire furniture ofthe house would not have brought twenty-five dollars at auction, yet fortwenty-five years it had been the home of John and Jane Trafton and fortwelve years of their nephew, Robert. 

My readers will naturally ask if the fisherman had no children of hisown. There was a son who, if living, would be twenty-three years old, but years before he had left home, and whether Ben Trafton was living ordead, who could tell? Nothing had been heard of him for five years. 

Mrs. Trafton's affections had only Robert for their object, and to hersister's son she was warmly attached--nearly as much so as if he hadbeen her own son. 

Her husband's love of drink had gradually alienated her from him, andshe leaned upon Robert, who was always ready to serve her with boyishdevotion and to protect her, if need be, from the threats of herhusband, made surly by drink. 

Many days she would have gone to bed supperless but for Robert. He wouldpush out to sea in his uncle's boat, catch a supply of fish, selling apart if he could or trade a portion for groceries. Indeed he did morefor the support of the family than John Trafton did himself. 

"It's about time for supper, Robert, " said his aunt; "but I've only gota little boiled fish to offer you. "

"Fish is good for the brains. Aunt Jane, " said Robert, smiling. 

"Well, I suppose it's no use waiting for your uncle. If he's at thetavern, he will stay there until he is full of liquor and then he willreel home. Come in and sit down to the table. "

Robert entered the cabin and sat down at a side table. His aunt broughthim a plate of boiled fish and a potato. 

"I found just one potato in the cupboard, Robert, " she said. 

"Then eat it yourself, aunt. Don't give it to me. "

"No, Robert; I've got a little toast for myself. There was a slice ofbread too dry to eat as it was, so I toasted it and soaked it in hotwater. That suits me better than the potato. "

"Haven't you any tea, aunt--for yourself, I mean?" Robert added quickly. "I don't care for it, but I know you do. "

"I wish I had some. Tea always goes to the right spot, " said Mrs. Trafton; "but I couldn't find a single leaf. "

"What a pity!" said Robert regretfully. 

"Yes, " sighed Mrs. Trafton; "we have to do without almost everything. Itmight be so different if Mr. Trafton wouldn't drink. "

"Did he always drink?"

"He's drank, more or less, for ten years, but the habit seems to havegrown upon him. Till five years ago two-thirds of his earnings came tome to spend for the house, but now I don't average a dollar a week. "

"It's too bad, Aunt Jane!" said Robert energetically. 

"So it is, but it does no good to say so. It won't mend matters. "

"I wish I was a man. "

"I am glad you are not, Robert. "

"Why are you glad that I am a boy?" asked Robert in surprise. 

"Because when you are a man you won't stay here. You will go out intothe world to better yourself, and I shan't blame you. Then I shall beleft alone with your uncle, and Heaven only knows how I shall get along. I shall starve very likely. "

Robert pushed back his chair from the table and looked straight at hisaunt. 

"Do you think. Aunt Jane, " he demanded indignantly, "that I will desertyou and leave you to shift for yourself?"

"I said, Robert, that I shouldn't blame you if you did. There isn't muchto stay here for. "

"I am sorry you have such a poor opinion of me, Aunt Jane, " said the boygravely. "I am not quite so selfish as all that. I certainly should liketo go out into the world, but I won't go unless I can leave youcomfortable. "

"I should miss you, Robert, I can't tell how much, but I don't want totie you down here when you can do better. There isn't much for me tolive for--I'm an old woman already--but better times may be in store foryou. "

"You are not an old woman, Aunt Jane. You are not more than fifty. "

"I am just fifty, Robert, but I feel sometimes as if I were seventy. "

"Do you know, Aunt Jane, I sometimes think that brighter days are comingto both of us? Sometimes, when I sit out there on the cliff and look outto sea, I almost fancy I can see a ship coming in laden with good thingsfor us. "

Mrs. Trafton smiled faintly. 

"I have waited a long time for my ship to come in, Robert, " she said. "I've waited year after year, but it hasn't come yet. "

"It may come for all that. "

"You are young and hopeful. Yours may come in some day, but I don'tthink mine ever will. "

"Have you anything for me to do, aunt?"

"Not at present, Robert. "

"Then I'll study a little. "

There was an unpainted wooden shelf which Robert had made himself and onit were half a dozen books--his sole library. 

From this shelf he took down a tattered arithmetic and a slate andpencil, and, going out of doors, flung himself down on the cliff andopened the arithmetic well toward the end. 

"I'll try this sum in cube root, " he said to himself. "I got it wrongthe last time I tried. "

He worked for fifteen minutes and a smile of triumph lit up his face. 

"It comes right, " he said. "I think I understand cube root pretty wellnow. It was a good idea working by myself. When I left school I had onlygot through fractions. That's seventy-five pages back and I understandall that I have tried since. I won't be satisfied till I have gone tothe end of the very last page. "

Here his aunt came to the door of the cabin and called "Robert. "

"All right, aunt; I'm coming. "

The boy rose to his feet and answered the summons. 

CHAPTER II

ROBERT AND MRS. JONES

"Are you willing to go to the village for me, Robert?" asked his aunt. 

"To be sure I am, aunt, " answered the boy promptly. "I hope you don'tdoubt it?"

"I thought you might be tired, as you were out all the forenoon in theboat. "

"That's sport, Aunt Jane. That doesn't tire me. "

"It would if you were not very strong for a boy. "

"Yes, I am pretty strong, " said Robert complacently, extending hismuscular arms. "I can row the boat when the tide is very strong. Whaterrand have you got for me to the village, aunt?"

"I have been doing a little sewing for Mrs. Jones. "

"You mean the landlord's wife?" questioned Robert. 

"Yes; I don't feel very friendly toward her husband, for it's he thatsells strong drink to my husband and keeps his earnings from me, but Icouldn't refuse work from her when she offered it to me. "

Mrs. Trafton spoke half apologetically, for it had cost her a pang towork for her enemy's family, but Robert took a practical view of thematter. 

"Her money is as good as anybody's, " he said. "I don't see why youshouldn't take it. She has enough of our money. "

"That's true, Robert, " said his aunt, her doubts removed by her youngnephew's logic. 

"Is the bundle ready. Aunt Jane?"

"Here it is, Robert, " and the fisherman's wife handed him a smallparcel, wrapped in a fragment of newspaper. 

"How much is she to pay for the work?"

"I hardly know what to ask. I guess twenty-five cents will be aboutright. "

"Very well, Aunt Jane. Any other errands?"

"If you get the money, Robert, you may stop at the store and buy aquarter of a pound of their cheapest tea. I am afraid it's extravagantin me to buy tea when there's so little coming in, but it cheers me upwhen I get low-spirited and helps me to bear what I have to bear. "

"Of course you must have some tea, Aunt Jane, " said Robert quickly. "Nobody can charge you with extravagance. Anything more?"

"You may stop at the baker's and buy a loaf of bread. Thento-morrow--please God--we'll have a good breakfast. "

"All right, aunt!" and Robert began to walk rapidly toward the village, about a mile inland. 

Poor woman! Her idea of a good breakfast was a cup of tea, without milkor sugar, and bread, without butter. 

It had not always been so, but her husband's intemperance had changedher ideas and made her accept thankfully what once she would havedisdained. 

It must be said of Robert that, though he had the hearty appetite of agrowing boy, he never increased his aunt's sorrow by complaining oftheir meager fare, but always preserved a cheerful demeanor in the midstof their privations. 

I have said that the settlement, which was known as Cook's Harbor, was afishing village, but this is not wholly correct. A mile inland was avillage of fair size, which included the houses of several summerresidents from the city, and these were more or less pretentious. 

Several comfortable houses belonged to sea captains who had retired fromactive duties and anchored in the village where they first saw thelight. 

The cabins of the fishermen were nearer the sea, and of these there weresome twenty, but they were not grouped together. 

I have said that the main village was a mile away. Here was the tavern, the grocery store and the shops of the tailor and shoemaker. Here wascentered the social life of Cook's Harbor. Here, unfortunately, thesteps of John Trafton too often tended, for he always brought up at thetavern and seldom came home with a cent in his pocket. 

Robert was no laggard, and it did not take him long to reach thevillage. 

Just in the center stood the tavern, a rambling building of two stories, with an L, which had been added within a few years. 

During the summer there were generally boarders from the city, whoconsidered that the invigorating sea air, with its healthful influences, counterbalanced the rather primitive accommodations and homely fare withwhich they must perforce be content. 

By hook or crook Nahum Jones--or Nick Jones as he was called--hadmanaged to accumulate a snug competence, but much of it was gained byhis profit on liquor. 

He was a thrifty man, whose thrift extended to meanness, and his wifewas thoroughly selfish. They had but one child--a daughter--who badefair to be an old maid. 

Though Robert had made no objection to carry the work to the tavern, hedidn't enjoy his visit in anticipation. 

He disliked both Mr. And Mrs. Jones, but felt that this must notinterfere with his aunt's business. 

He went round to a side door and knocked. The door was opened by thedaughter--Selina Jones. 

"Well, Robert, " she said abruptly, "what's wanted?"

"Is your mother at home?"

"I suppose she is. "

"Can I see her?"

"I don't know--I guess she's busy. Won't I do as well?"

"I would rather see your mother. "

Upon this Selina summoned her mother, not thinking it necessary toinvite our hero into the house. 

"Oh, I see!" said Mrs. Jones as she glanced at the bundle in Robert'shand. "You've brought back the work I gave your aunt. "

"Yes, ma'am. "

"Let me look at it. "

She took the bundle, opened it and ran her eye rapidly over it. 

"It'll do, " she said. "Might have been better done, but it'll answer. "

She was about to close the door, as if her business with Robert was atan end, but this did not suit our hero. 

"It will be twenty-five cents, " he said in a business-like tone. 

"Were you afraid I would forget to pay you?" asked Mrs. Jones rathersourly. 

"No, ma'am, but I supposed you would like to know how much it wouldbe. "

"Very well; now I know. "

If Robert had been easily abashed he would have dropped the matter thereand suffered her to take her time about paying, but he knew that hisaunt's intended purchasing must be made with ready money and hepersisted. 

"I would like the money now, " he said, "for I am going to the store tobuy something. "

"It seems to me you are in a great hurry, " said Mrs. Jonesunpleasantly. 

"So would you be, Mrs. Jones, " said Robert bluntly, "if you were as pooras my aunt. "

"Folks needn't be poor if they are smart, " said the landlord's wife. 

"I suppose you know where my uncle's money goes?" said Robertpointedly. 

Mrs. Jones did know, and, though she had not much of a conscience, shefelt the thrust and it made her uncomfortable and therefore angry. Butit also gave her an idea. 

"Wait a minute, " she said and left Robert standing in the doorway. 

When she returned, which was in a short time, her thin lips werewreathed with satisfaction. 

"You can tell your aunt there won't be any money coming to her, " shesaid. 

"Why not?" demanded Robert in great surprise. 

"Mr. Jones tells me that your uncle is indebted to him, and he willcredit him with twenty-five cents on account. "

"What does my uncle owe him for?" demanded the boy with flashing eyes. 

"For drink, I suppose, " said Mrs. Jones rather reluctantly. 

"For drink!" repeated our hero. "Are you not satisfied with taking allmy uncle's earnings, but you must get my aunt to work her fingers to thebone and then keep back her money in payment for your rum?"

"Upon my word, Robert Coverdale, " said Mrs. Jones sharply, "you are veryimpudent! How dare you speak to me in that way?"

"How dare you treat my aunt so meanly?" retorted Robert with righteousindignation. 

"I won't stand your impudence--so there! Your aunt needn't expect anymore sewing to do, " said the angry landlady. 

"She wouldn't take any more of your work if that is the way you mean topay her. "

"I won't stand here talking with you. I'll get Mr. Jones to give you ahorsewhipping--see if I don't!"

"He'd better not try it, " said Robert with flashing eyes. 

The door was slammed in his face, and, angry and disappointed, he walkedslowly out of the tavern yard. 

CHAPTER III

THE WIND BROUGHT GOOD LUCK

John Trafton was sitting out on the porch of the tavern when his nephewcame out of the side gate. 

"There's your nephew, Trafton, " said old Ben Brandon, who, like JohnTrafton, frequented the barroom too much for his good. "Hasn't come herefor his dram, has he?" added the old man, chuckling. 

John Trafton's curiosity was excited, for he had no idea of any errandthat could bring Robert to the tavern. A suspicion crossed his mind, thevery thought of which kindled his indignation. His wife might have sentto request Mr. Jones not to sell him any more liquor. He did not thinkshe would dare to do it, but she might. At any rate he determined tofind out. 

He hastily left the porch and followed Robert. Presently the boy heardhis uncle call him and he turned round. 

"What's wanted, uncle?" he inquired. 

"Where have you been, Robert?"

"I called to see Mrs. Jones. "

"What did you want of Mrs. Jones?"

"It was an errand for Aunt Jane. "

"Will you answer my question?" said Trafton angrily. "What business hasyour aunt got with Mrs. Jones?"

He still thought that his wife had sent a message to Mr. Jones throughthe wife of the latter. 

"She had been doing a little sewing for Mrs. Jones and asked me to carrythe work back. "

"Oh, that's it, is it?" said John Trafton, relieved. "And how much didthe work come to?"

"Twenty-five cents. "

"You may give me the money, Robert, " said the fisherman. "You might loseit, you know. "

Could Robert be blamed for regarding his uncle with contempt? Hisintention evidently was to appropriate his wife's scanty earnings to hisown use, spending them, of course, for drink. Certainly a man must bedebased who will stoop to anything so mean, and Robert felt deeplyashamed of the man he was forced to call uncle. 

"I can't give you the money, uncle, " said Robert coldly. 

"Can't, hey? What do you mean by that, I want to know?" demanded thefisherman suspiciously. 

"My aunt wanted me to buy a little tea and a loaf of bread with themoney. "

"What if she did? Can't I buy them just as well as you? Hand over thatmoney, Robert Coverdale, or it will be the worse for you. "

"I have no money to hand you. "

"Why haven't you? You haven't had a chance to spend it yet. You needn'tlie about it or I will give you a flogging!"

"I never lie, " said Robert proudly. "I told you I haven't got the moneyand I haven't. "

"Then what have you done with it--lost it, eh?"

"I have done nothing with it. Mrs. Jones wouldn't pay me. "

"And why wouldn't she pay you?"

"Because she said that you were owing her husband money for drink andshe would credit it on your account. "

As Robert said this he looked his uncle full in the eye and his uncleflushed a little with transient shame. 

"So aunt must go without her tea and bread, " continued Robert. 

John Trafton had the grace to be ashamed and said:

"I'll fix this with Jones. You can go to the store and get the tea andtell Sands to charge it to me. "

"He won't do it, " said Robert. "He's refused more than once. "

"If he won't that isn't my fault. I've done all I could. "

Trafton turned back and resumed his seat on the porch, where he remainedtill about ten o'clock. It was his usual evening resort, for he did notthink it necessary to go home until it was time to go to bed. 

Though Robert had no money to spend, he kept on his way slowly towardthe village store. He felt mortified and angry. 

"Poor Aunt Jane!" he said to himself. "It's a shame that she should haveto go without her tea. She hasn't much to cheer her up. Mrs. Jones isabout the meanest woman I ever saw, and I hope Aunt Jane won't do anymore work for her. "

It occurred to Robert to follow his uncle's direction and ask for creditat the store. But he knew very well that there would be little prospectof paying the debt, and, though a boy, he had strict notions on thesubject of debt and could not bring his mind, even for his aunt's sake, to buy what he could not pay for. 

When we are sad and discouraged relief often comes in some unexpectedform and from an unexpected quarter. So it happened now to our younghero. 

Walking before him was an elderly gentleman who had on his head a Panamastraw hat with a broad brim. 

He was a Boston merchant who was spending a part of the season at Cook'sHarbor. As his custom was, he was indulging in an evening walk aftersupper. 

There was a brisk east wind blowing, which suddenly increased in force, and, being no respecter of persons, whisked off Mr. Lawrence Tudor'sexpensive Panama and whirled it away. 

Mr. Tudor looked after his hat in dismay. He was an elderly gentleman, of ample proportions, who was accustomed to walk at a slow, dignifiedpace and who would have found it physically uncomfortable to run, evenif he could be brought to think it comported with his personal dignity. 

"Bless my soul, how annoying!" exclaimed the merchant. 

He looked about him helplessly, as if to consider what course it wouldbe best to pursue under the circumstances, and as he looked he wasrelieved to see a boy in energetic pursuit of the lost hat. 

This boy was Robert, who grasped the situation at once, and, being fleetof foot, thought it very good fun to have a race with the wind. 

He had a good chase, for the wind in this case proved to be no meancompetitor, but at last he succeeded and put his hand on the hat, whichhe carried in triumph to its owner. 

"Really, my boy, I am exceedingly indebted to you, " said Mr. Tudor, madehappy by the recovery of his hat. 

"You are quite welcome, sir, " said Robert politely. 

"You had a good run after it, " said Mr. Tudor. 

"Yes, sir; the wind is very strong. "

"I don't know what I should have done without you. I am afraid Icouldn't have overtaken it myself. "

"I am afraid not, " said Robert, smiling at the thought of a man of themerchant's figure engaging in a race for a hat. 

"I could run when I was a boy like you, " said Mr. Tudor pleasantly, "butthere's rather too much of me now. Do you live in the village?"

"Out on the cliff, sir. My uncle is a fisherman. "

"And do you ever fish?"

"Sometimes--a little, sir. "

"But you don't expect to be a fisherman when you grow up?"

"Not if I can find anything better. "

"A bright-looking lad like you ought to find something better. Pleaseaccept this. "

He drew from his vest pocket a two-dollar bill, which he placed inRobert's hand. 

"What!" exclaimed our young hero in astonishment. "All this for savingyour hat? It is quite too much, sir. "

Mr. Tudor smiled. 

"You will no doubt be surprised, " he said, "when I tell you that my hatcost me fifty dollars. It is a very fine Panama. "

"Fifty dollars!" ejaculated Robert. 

He had not supposed it worth two. 

"So you see it is worth something to save it, and I should undoubtedlyhave lost it but for you. "

"I am very much obliged to you, sir, " said Robert. "I wouldn't acceptthe money if it were for myself, but it will be very acceptable to myaunt. "

"I suppose your uncle does not find fishing very remunerative?"

"It isn't that, sir; but he spends nearly all of his money at thetavern, and----"

"I understand, my boy. It is a very great pity. I, too, had an uncle whowas intemperate, and I can understand your position. What is yourname?"

"Robert Coverdale. "

"There is my business card. If you ever come to Boston, come and seeme. "

Robert took the card, from which he learned that his new acquaintancewas Lawrence Tudor. 

CHAPTER IV

ROBERT'S PURCHASES

When Robert parted from Mr. Tudor he felt as if he had unexpectedlyfallen heir to a fortune. Two dollars is not a very large sum, but toRobert, nurtured amid privation, it assumed large proportions. 

He began at once to consider what he could do with it, and it is to hiscredit that he thought rather of his aunt than himself. 

He would buy a whole pound of tea, he decided, and a pound of sugar tomake it more palatable. This would last a considerable time and takeless than half his money. As to the disposal of the remainder, he wouldconsider how to expend that. 

In a long, low building, with brooms, brushes and a variety ofnondescript articles displayed in the windows and outside, Abner Sandskept the village store. 

It was a dark, gloomy place, crowded with articles for family use. Theproprietor enjoyed a monopoly of the village trade, and, in spite ofoccasional bad debts, did a snug business and was able every year tomake an addition to his store of savings in the county savings bank. 

He was a cautious man, and, by being well acquainted with thecircumstances and habits of every man in the village, knew whom to trustand to whom to refuse credit. John Trafton belonged to the latterclass. 

Mr. Sands knew, as everybody else knew, that all his money was investedin liquor and that the chance of paying a bill for articles needful forthe household was very small indeed. 

When, therefore, Robert entered the store he took it for granted that hemeant to ask credit, and he was all ready for a refusal. 

"What do you charge for your tea, Mr. Sands?" the boy asked. 

"Different prices, according to quality, " answered the storekeeper, notthinking it necessary to go into details. 

"How much is the cheapest?"

"Fifty cents a pound. "

"Do you call it a pretty good article?" continued our hero. 

"Very fair; I use it in my own family, " answered Abner, looking over hisspectacles at his young customer. 

"I guess I'll take a pound, " said Robert with the air of one who hadplenty of money. 

"A pound?" ejaculated Abner Sands in surprise. 

"Yes, sir. "

A pound of tea for one in John Trafton's circumstances seemed to Mr. Sands an extraordinary order. Considering that it was probably to becharged, it seemed to the cautious trader an impudent attempt to imposeupon him, and he looked sternly at our young hero. 

"We don't trust, " he said coldly. 

"I haven't asked you to trust me, Mr. Sands, " said Robertindependently. 

"You don't mean to say you're ready to pay for it cash down, do you?"asked Abner, his countenance expressing amazement. 

"Yes, I do. "

"Show me the money. "

"I'll show you the money when I get my tea, " said Robert, provoked atMr. Sands' resolute incredulity. "I've told you I will pay you before Ileave the store. If you don't want to sell your goods, say so!"

"Come, come! there ain't no use in gettin' angry, " said the trader in aconciliatory tone. "Your trade's as good as anybody's if you've gotmoney to pay for the goods. "

"I've already told you I have, Mr. Sands. "

"All right, Robert. You shall have the tea. "

He weighed out the tea and then asked:

"Is there anything more?"

"Yes, sir. How do you sell your sugar?"

"Brown sugar--eight cents. "

"I guess that will do. I will take a pound of brown sugar. "

"Your folks don't generally buy sugar. I didn't know you used it. "

"We are going to use a pound, " said Robert, who did not fancy thetrader's interference. 

"Well, I'd jest as soon sell you a pound as anybody as long as you'vegot the money to pay for it. "

Robert said nothing, although this remark was made in an interrogativetone, as if Mr. Sands still doubted whether our hero would be able topay for his purchases. 

There was nothing to do, therefore, but to weigh out the sugar. 

The two bundles lay on the counter, but Mr. Sands watched them as a catwatches a mouse, with a vague apprehension that our hero might seizethem and carry them off without payment. 

But Robert was better prepared than he supposed. 

From his vest pocket he drew the two-dollar bill, and, passing it acrossthe counter, he said:

"You may take your pay out of this. "

Abner Sands took the bill and stared at it as if some mystery attachedto it. He scrutinized it carefully through his spectacles, as if therewas a possibility that it might be bad, but it had an unmistakablygenuine look. 

"It seems to be good, " he remarked cautiously. 

"Of course it's good!" said Robert. "You don't take me for acounterfeiter, do you, Mr. Sands?"

"It's a good deal of money for you to have, Robert. Where did you getit?"

"Why do you ask that question?" asked our hero, provoked. 

"I was a leetle surprised at your having so much money--that's all. Didyour uncle give it to you?"

"I don't see what that is to you, Mr. Sands. If you don't want to sellyour tea and sugar, you can keep them. "

If there had been another grocery store in the village Robert would havegone thither, but it has already been said that Abner Sands had themonopoly of the village trade. 

"You're kind of touchy this evenin', Robert, " said Abner placidly, forhe was so given to interesting himself in the affairs of his neighborsthat he did not realize that his curiosity was displayed in animpertinent manner. "Of course I want to sell all I can. You've gotconsiderable money comin' back to you. Don't you want to buy somethingelse?"

"I guess not to-night. "

"As long as you've got the cash to pay, I'm perfectly ready to sell yougoods. Lemme see. Fifty-eight from two dollars leaves a dollar'nthirty-two cents. "

"Forty-two, " corrected Robert. 

"I declare, so it does! You are a good hand at subtraction. "

Robert felt that he could not truthfully return the compliment andprudently remained silent. 

"There is your money, " continued the trader, putting in Robert's hand adollar bill and forty-two cents in change. "Your uncle must have beenquite lucky. "

He looked questioningly at our hero, but Robert did not choose togratify his curiosity. 

"Is it so very lucky to make two dollars?" he asked, and with thesewords he left the store. 

"That's a cur'us boy!" soliloquized Mr. Sands, looking after him. "Ican't get nothin' out of him. Looks as if John Trafton must have turnedover a new leaf to give him so much money to buy groceries. I hope hehas. It's better that I should get his money than the tavern keeper. "

Mr. Sands did not have to wait long before his curiosity was partiallygratified, for the very man of whom he was thinking just then enteredthe store. 

"Has my nephew been here?" he inquired. 

"Just went out. "

"I thought you might be willing to let him have what little he wanted oncredit. I'll see that it's paid for. "

"Why, he paid for the goods himself--fifty-eight cents. "

_"What!"_ exclaimed the fisherman, astonished. 

"He bought a pound of tea, at fifty cents, and a pound of sugar, ateight cents, and paid for 'em. "

"Where'd he get the money?" asked Trafton. 

"I am sure I don't know. I supposed you gave it to him. He's got moreleft. He paid for the articles with a two-dollar bill and he's got adollar and forty-two cents left!"

"The young hypocrite!" ejaculated John Trafton indignantly. "All thewhile he had this money he was worryin' me for a quarter to buy some teaand a loaf of bread. "

"Looks rather mysterious--doesn't it?" said the grocer. 

"Mr. Sands, " said the fisherman, "I've took care of that boy ever sincehe was three year old, and that's the way he treats me. He's a youngviper!"

"Jes so!" said Mr. Sands, who was a politic man and seldom contradictedhis neighbors. 

"The rest of that money belongs to me by rights, " continued thefisherman, "and he's got to give it to me. How much did you say itwas?"

"A dollar and forty-two cents, John; but, seems to me, you'd better lethim keep it to buy groceries with. "

"I must have the money!" muttered Trafton, not heeding this advice, which was good, though selfish. "I guess I'll go home and make the boygive it to me!"

And he staggered out of the store, and, as well as he could, steered forhome. 

CHAPTER V

"GIVE ME THAT MONEY"

From the village store Robert went to the baker's and bought a loaf ofbread for six cents, making his entire expenditures sixty-four cents. 

He was now ready to go home. He walked rapidly and soon reached thehumble cabin, where he found his aunt waiting for him. 

She looked with surprise at the three bundles he brought in and asked:

"What have you got there, Robert?"

"First of all, here is a pound of tea, " said the boy, laying it down onthe kitchen table. "Here is a pound of sugar and here is a loaf ofbread. "

"But I didn't order all those, Robert, " said his aunt. 

"I know you didn't, " answered her nephew, "but I thought you'd be ableto make use of them. "

"No doubt I shall, but surely you did not buy them all for twenty-fivecents?"

"I should say not. Why, the tea alone cost fifty cents! Then the sugarcame to eight cents and the loaf cost six cents. "

"Mrs. Jones didn't pay you enough to buy all those, did she?"

"Mrs. Jones is about as mean a woman as you can find anywhere, " Robertsaid warmly. "She didn't pay me a cent. "

"Why? Didn't she like the work?"

"She said uncle owed her husband money for drink and the work would partpay up the debt. "

But for the presence of the groceries, this would have had adiscouraging effect upon Mrs. Trafton, but her mind was diverted by hercuriosity, and she said apprehensively:

"I hope you didn't buy on credit, Robert? I never can pay so muchmoney!"

"Mr. Sands isn't the man to sell on credit. Aunt Jane. No, I paid cash. And the best of it is, " continued our hero, "I have some money left. "

Here he produced and spread on the table before his aunt's astonishedeyes the balance of the money. 

Mrs. Trafton was startled. The possession of so much money seemed to herincomprehensible. 

"I hope you came by the money honestly, Robert?"

"What have I ever done, Aunt Jane, that you should think me a thief?"asked Robert, half amused, half annoyed. 

"Nothing, my dear boy; but I can't understand how you came to have somuch money. "

"I see I must explain, aunt. A strong wind blew it to me. "

"Then somebody must have lost it. You shouldn't have spent it till youhad tried to find the owner. "

"I'll explain to you. "

And he told her the story of the lost hat and the liberal reward heobtained for chasing and recovering it. 

"Think of a straw hat costing fifty dollars, aunt!" he saidwonderingly. 

"It does seem strange, but I am glad it was worth so much or youwouldn't have been so well paid. "

"This Mr. Tudor is a gentleman, aunt. Why, plenty of people would havegiven me only ten cents. I would have thought myself well paid if he hadeven given me that, but I couldn't have brought you home so much tea. Aunt Jane, do me a favor. "

"What is it, Robert?"

"Make yourself a good strong cup of tea tonight. You'll feel ever somuch better, and there's plenty of it. A pound will last a long time, won't it?"

"Oh, yes, a good while. I shall get a good deal of comfort out of thattea. But I don't know about making any to-night. If you would likesome----"

"If you'll make some, I'll drink a little, Aunt Jane. "

Robert said this because he feared otherwise his aunt would not make anytill the next morning. 

"Very well, Robert. "

"Don't let uncle know I've brought so much money home, " said Robert witha sudden thought. 

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want him to know I have any money. If he knew, he wouldwant me to give it to him. "

"I don't think he would claim it. It was given to you. "

"I'll tell you why I am sure he would. "

And Robert told how his uncle demanded the scanty pittance which hesupposed Mrs. Jones had paid for the sewing. 

Mrs. Trafton blushed with shame for her husband's meanness. 

"Drink changes a man's nature completely, " she said. "The time was whenJohn would have scorned such a thing. "

"That time has gone by, aunt. For fear he will find out that I have themoney, I believe I will go and hide it somewhere. "

"Shall I take care of it for you, Robert?" asked Mrs. Trafton. 

"No, Aunt Jane; he would find it out, and I don't want to get you intoany trouble. I know of a good place to put it--a place where he willnever find it. I will put it there till we need to use it. "

"You must buy something for yourself with it. The money is yours. "

Robert shook his head decidedly. 

"I don't need anything--that is, I don't need anything but what I can dowithout. We will keep it to buy bread and tea and anything else that weneed. Now, aunt, while you are steeping the tea, I will go out anddispose of the money. "

Here it is necessary to explain that though John Trafton started forhome when he heard from Mr. Sands about Robert's unexpected wealth, hechanged his mind as he passed the tavern. He thought he must have onemore drink. 

He entered and preferred his request. 

"Trafton, " said the landlord, "don't you think you've had enough?"

"Not quite. I want one more glass and then I'll go home. "

"But you are owing me several dollars. Clear off that score and then youmay have as much as you will. "

"I'll pay you a dollar on account to-morrow. "

"Do you mean it?"

"Yes. Bob's got some money of mine--over a dollar. I'll get it to-nightand bring it round tomorrow. "

"Of course, Trafton, If you'll keep your credit good, I won't mindtrusting you. Well, what shall it be?"

John Trafton gave his order and sat down again in the barroom. He feltso comfortable that he easily persuaded himself that there was no hurryabout collecting the money in his nephew's hands. Robert was at home bythis time and would have no way of spending the balance of his cash. 

"It's all right, " said the fisherman; "I'll wait till ten o'clock andthen I'll go home. "

Meanwhile Robert went out on the cliff and looked about him. He lookeddown upon the waves as they rolled in on the beach and he enjoyed thesight, familiar as it was, for he had a love of the grand and beautifulin nature. 

"I think if I were a rich man, " thought the poor fisherman's boy, "Iwould like to build a fine house on the cliff, with an observatory righthere, where I could always see the ocean. It's something to live here, if I do have to live in a poor cabin. But I must consider where I willhide my money. "

At his feet was a small tin box, which had been thrown away by somebody, and it struck Robert that this would make a good depository for hismoney. Fortunately the cover of the box was attached to it. 

He took the money from his vest pocket and dropped it into the box. Thenhe covered it, and, finding a good place, he scooped out the dirt andcarefully deposited the box in the hole. 

He carefully covered it up, replacing the dirt, and took particularnotice of the spot, so that there would be no difficulty in finding itagain whenever he had occasion. 

Having attended to this duty, he retraced his steps to the cabin andfound that the tea had been steeped and the table was covered with aneat cloth and two cups and saucers were set upon it. 

"Tea's all ready, Robert, " said his aunt cheerfully. "The smell of itdoes me good. It's better than all the liquor in the world!"

Robert did not like tea as well as his aunt, but still he relished thewarm drink, for the night was cool, and more than ever he rejoiced tosee how much his aunt enjoyed what had latterly been rather a rareluxury. 

About nine o'clock Robert went to bed and very soon fell asleep. 

He had not been asleep long before he was conscious of being rudelyshaken. 

Opening his eyes, he saw his uncle with inflamed face and thickenedutterance. 

"What's wanted, uncle?" he asked. 

"Where's that money, you young rascal? Give me the dollar and forty-twocents you're hiding from me!"

CHAPTER VI

MAN AGAINST BOY

As Robert, scarcely awake, looked into the threatening face of his unclehe felt that the crisis had come and that all his firmness and manlinesswere demanded. 

Our hero was not disposed to rebel against just authority. He recognizedthat his uncle, poor as his guardianship was, had some claim to hisobedience. 

In any ordinary matter he would have unhesitatingly obeyed him. But, inthe present instance, he felt that his aunt's comfort depended, in ameasure, upon his retention of the small amount of money which he wasfortunate enough to possess. 

Of course he had thought of all this before he went to sleep, and he haddecided, in case his uncle heard of his good luck, to keep the money atall hazards. 

For a minute he remained silent, meeting calmly the angry and impatientglance of his uncle. 

"Give me that money, I tell you!" demanded the fisherman with thickenedutterance. 

"I haven't got any money of yours, Uncle John, " said Robert, now forcedto say something. 

"You lie, boy! You've got a dollar and forty-two cents. "

"I haven't got as much as that, but I have nearly as much. "

"Have you been spending any more money?"

"I bought a loaf of bread for six cents. "

"Then you've got a dollar and thirty-six cents left. "

"Yes, I have. "

"Give it to me!"

"You want to spend it for rum, I suppose, uncle. "

"Curse your impudence! What difference does it make to you what I dowith it?"

Robert rose to a sitting posture, and, carried away by just indignation, he said:

"I mean to keep that money and spend it for my aunt. There ought to beno need of it. You ought to support her yourself and supply her with allshe needs; but, instead of that, you selfishly spend all your money ondrink and leave her to get along the best way she can!"

"You young rascal!" exclaimed his uncle, half ashamed and wholly angry. "Is that the way you repay me for keeping you out of the poorhouse?"

"I can support myself, Uncle John, and for the last two years I've doneit and helped Aunt Jane besides. There isn't any danger of my going tothe poorhouse. I would leave Cook's Harbor tomorrow if I thought AuntJane were sure of a comfortable support, but I am afraid you would lether starve. "

Robert had never spoken so plainly before and his uncle was almoststruck dumb by the boy's bold words. He knew they were deserved, but hewas angry nevertheless and he was as firm as ever in his determinationto have the money. 

"Boy, " he said, "you are too young to lecture a grown man like me. Iknow what's best to do. Where did you get the money?" he demanded withsudden curiosity. "Did you find it in any of my pockets?"

"There wouldn't be much use in searching your pockets for money. Younever leave any behind. "

"Where did you get it then?"

"Mr. Tudor, who boards at the hotel, gave it to me. "

"That's a likely story. "

"He gave it to me because I ran after his hat, which was blown off bythe wind, and brought it back to him. It was a very expensive hat, so hesaid. "

"I know; it is a Panama hat. "

"That's what he called it. "

"Did you have that money when I saw you coming out of the tavern yard?"

"No. "

"When you got it, why didn't you come and bring it to me?"

"Because it was my own money. You had no right to claim it, " said Robertfirmly. 

"He is right, John, " said Mrs. Trafton, who had listened uneasily to theconversation, but had not yet seen an opportunity to put in a word inRobert's favor. 

"Shut up, old woman!" said the fisherman roughly. "Well, " said he, turning to Robert, "I've heard what you've got to say and it don't makea bit of difference. I must have the money. "

"I refuse to give it to you, " Robert said, pale but firm. 

"Then, " said John Trafton with a curse, "I'll take it. "

He snatched Robert's pants from the chair on which they were lying andthrust his hand into one pocket after the other, but he found nothing. 

He next searched the vest in the same manner, but the search was equallyunavailing. 

"You needn't search, for I haven't got the money, " said Robert. 

"Then where is it?"

"It is safe. "

"Did he give it to you, Jane?" demanded the fisherman, turning to hiswife. 

"No. "

"Do you know where it is?"

"No. "

"Boy, where is that money?" demanded Trafton, his face flushed. "Go andget it directly!"

"I can't. It isn't in the house. "

"Where is it then?"

"I hid it. "

"Where did you hide it?"

"I dug a hole and put it in. "

"What made you do that?"

"Because I was afraid you would get hold of it. "

"You were right enough there, " said John Trafton grimly, "for I will gethold of it. Get right up and find it and bring it to me. "

Here Mrs. Trafton again interposed. 

"How can you ask such a thing, John?" she said. "The night is as dark asa pocket. How do you expect Robert is going to find the money in thedark?"

Though John Trafton was a good deal under the influence of liquor, hewas not wholly deaf to reason and he saw the force of his wife'sremark. 

In fact, he had himself found sorry trouble in getting home from thetavern, familiar as the path was to him, on account of the intensedarkness. 

"Well, I guess it'll do to-morrow morning, " he said. "I must have itthen, for I've promised to pay Jones a dollar on account. I said Iwould, and I've got to keep my promise. Do you hear that, you youngrascal?"

"Yes, I hear it. "

"Then mind you don't forget it. That's all I've got to say. "

And the fisherman staggered into the adjoining room, and, without takingthe trouble of removing his garments, threw himself on the bed and infive minutes was breathing loud in a drunken stupor. 

Mrs. Trafton did not immediately go to bed. She was troubled in mind, for she foresaw that there was only a truce and not a cessation ofhostilities. 

In the morning her husband would renew his demand upon Robert, and, should the latter continue to refuse to comply, she was afraid therewould be violence. 

When her husband's heavy breathing showed that he was insensible toanything that was said, she began. 

"I don't know but you'd better give up that money to your uncle, " shesaid. 

"How can you advise me to do that, aunt?" asked Robert in surprise. 

"Because I'm afraid you'll make him angry if you refuse. "

"I can't help it if he is angry, " answered Robert. "He has no right tobe. Don't you know what he said--that he wanted to pay a dollar to thetavern keeper?"

"Yes. "

"Mr. Jones shall never get a cent of that money, " said Robert firmly. 

"But, Robert, " said his aunt nervously, "your uncle may beat you. "

"Then I'll keep my distance from him. "

"I would rather he would have the money than that you should get hurt, Robert. "

"Aunt Jane, I am going to take the risk of that. Though he is my uncleand your husband, there's one thing I can't help saying: It is acontemptibly mean thing not only to use all his own earnings for drink, but to try to get hold of what little I get for the same purpose. "

"I don't deny it, Robert. I don't pretend to defend my husband. Once hewas different, but drink has changed his whole nature. I never had anyreason to complain before he took to drink. "

"No doubt of it, aunt, but that don't alter present circumstances. Ihave no respect for my uncle when he acts as he has to-night. Come whatmay, there's one thing I am determined upon--he shan't have the money. "

"You'll be prudent, Robert, for my sake?" entreated Mrs. Trafton. 

"Yes, I'll be prudent. To-morrow morning I will get up early and be outof the way till after uncle is gone. There is no chance of his gettingup early and going a-fishing. "

The deep and noisy breathing made it probable that the fisherman wouldawaken at a late hour, as both Robert and his aunt knew. 

She was reassured by his promise and prepared to go to bed. Soon allthree inmates of the little cabin were sleeping soundly. 

CHAPTER VII

THE NEXT MORNING

Robert rose at six the next morning and half an hour later took hisbreakfast. It consisted of fish, bread and a cup of tea, and though mostof my young readers might not be satisfied with it--especially as therewas no butter--Robert thought himself lucky to be so well provided for. 

When his breakfast was finished he rose from the table. 

"Now I'm off, Aunt Jane, " he said. 

"Where are you going, Robert?"

"I'll earn some money if I can. We've got a little, but it won't lastlong. "

"It won't be very easy to find work, I am afraid. "

"I shall be ready for anything that turns up, aunt. Something turned upyesterday when I didn't expect it. "

"That's true. "

Just then the fisherman was heard to stir in the adjoining room, andRobert, not wishing to be near when he awakened, hastily left the cabinto avoid a repetition of the scene of the previous night. 

Mrs. Trafton breathed a sigh of relief when her nephew was fairly out ofthe way. 

About an hour later her husband rose and without needing to dress--forhe had thrown himself on the bed in his ordinary clothes--walked intothe room where his wife was at work. 

"Where's Robert?" he asked. 

"He had his breakfast and went out. "

"How long ago?"

"About an hour ago. "

John Trafton scowled with disappointment. 

"Is he round about home?"

"I don't think he is. "

"Did he say where he was going?"

"He said he would try to find a job. "

"Why didn't you keep him? Didn't you know I wanted to see him?"

"You didn't ask me to keep him, " said Mrs. Trafton nervously. 

"I see how it is, " said the fisherman; "you're in league with him. "

"What do you mean by that, John?"

"You know well enough what I mean. You don't want him to give me thatmoney. "

Mrs. Trafton plucked up courage enough to say: "You ought not to ask forit, John. "

"Why shouldn't I ask for it?" he demanded, pounding forcibly on thetable. 

"Because he means to spend it for things we need and you want it tospend at the tavern. "

"There you are again--always twitting me because, after exposing myselfto storm and the dangers of the sea, I take a little something to warmme up and make me comfortable. "

To hear John Trafton's tone one might think him a grievously injuredman. 

"For two years, John Trafton, you have spent three-fourths of yourearnings at the tavern, " said his wife quietly. "You have left me tosuffer want and privation that you might indulge your appetite fordrink. "

"You seem to be alive still, " he said with an ugly sneer. "You don'tseem to have starved. "

"I might have done so but for Robert. He has brought me fish and boughtgroceries with what little money he could earn in various ways. "

"Oh, it's Robert always!" sneered Trafton. "He is an angel, is he? He'sonly done his duty. Haven't I given him the shelter of my roof?"

"You haven't given him much else, " retorted his wife. 

"I've heard enough of that; now shut up, " said the fisherman roughly. "What have you got for breakfast?"

Mrs. Trafton pointed to the table, on which, while her husband had beenspeaking, she had placed his breakfast. 

"Humph!" said he discontentedly, "that's a pretty poor breakfast!"

"It is the best I can give you, " said his wife coldly. 

"I don't care for tea. I'd as soon drink slops. "

"What do you prefer?"

"I prefer coffee. "

"I have none in the house. If you will bring me home some from thestore, I will make you a cup every morning, but I don't think you wouldlike it without milk. "

"Do you think I am made of money? How do you expect me to buy coffee?"

"With the money you would otherwise spend for drink. "

"Stop that, will you?" said Trafton angrily. "I'm tired of it. "

A moment later he said in a milder tone:

"When I get that money of Robert's I will buy a pound of coffee. "

Mrs. Trafton said nothing. 

"Do you know where he has hidden it?" asked her husband after drinking acup of the tea which he had so decried. 

"No. "

"Didn't he tell you where he was going to put it?"

"No. "

"You are sure he didn't give it to you to keep?"

"I am very glad he didn't. "

"Why are you glad?"

"Because you would have teased me till you got it. "

"And I'll have it yet, Mrs. Trafton--do you hear that?" said thefisherman fiercely. 

"Yes, I hear you. "

"You may as well make up your mind that I am in earnest. What! am I tobe defied by a weak woman and a half-grown boy? You don't know me, Mrs. T. "

"I do know you only too well, Mr. Trafton. It was an unlucky day when Imarried you. "

"Humph! There may be two sides to that story. Well, I'm going. "

"Where are you going? Shall you go out in the boat this morning?"

"Oh, you expect me to spend all my time working for my support, do you?No, I am not going out in the boat. I am going to the village. "

"To the tavern, I suppose?"

"And suppose I am going to the tavern, " repeated the fisherman in adefiant tone, "have you got anything to say against it?"

"I have a great deal to say, but it won't do any good. "

"That's where you are right. "

John Trafton left the cabin, but he did not immediately take the road tothe village. 

First of all he thought he would look round a little and see if he couldnot discover the hiding place of the little sum which his nephew hadconcealed. 

He walked about the cabin in various directions, examining carefully tosee if anywhere the ground had been disturbed. 

In one or two places he thought he detected signs of disturbance, and, bending over, scooped up the loose dirt, but, fortunately for our hero, he was on a false scent and discovered nothing. 

He was not a very patient man, and the fresh disappointment--for hishopes had been raised in each case--made him still more angry. 

"The young rascal!" he muttered. "He deserves to be flogged for givingme so much trouble. "

From the window of the cabin Mrs. Trafton saw what her husband was aboutand she was very much afraid he would succeed. She could nothelp--painful as it was--regarding with contempt a man who would stoopto such pitiful means to obtain money to gratify his diseased appetite. 

"If I thought my wife knew where this money is I'd have it out of her, "muttered the fisherman with a dark look at the cabin, "but likely theboy didn't tell her. I'll have to have some dealings with him shortly. He shall learn that he cannot defy me. "

John Trafton, giving up the search, took his way to the village, and, asa matter of course, started directly for the tavern. 

He entered the barroom and called for a drink. 

Mr. Jones did not show his usual alacrity in waiting upon him. 

"Trafton, " said he, "where is that dollar you promised to pay me thismorning?"

"Haven't got it, " answered the fisherman, rather embarrassed. "I'llbring it to-morrow morning. "

"Then to-morrow morning you may call for a drink. "

"You ain't going back on me, Mr. Jones?" asked John Trafton in alarm. 

"You are going back on me, as I look at it. You promised to bring me adollar and you haven't done it. "

"I'll tell you how it is, Mr. Jones. My nephew, Robert, has the money, but he was gone when I woke up this morning. I shall see him to-nightand give you the money. "

"You needn't wait till then. I saw Robert pass here only half an hourago. He's somewhere in the village. Find him and get the money and thenI'll talk with you. "

There was no appeal from this decision and Trafton, angry and sullen, left the tavern to look for Robert. 

CHAPTER VIII

ROBERT BECOMES A PRISONER

One of the most tasteful houses in Cook's Harbor was occupied in summerby the family of Theodore Irving, a Boston lawyer, who liked to have hiswife and children in the country, though his business required him tospend a part of the hot season in the city. 

The oldest son, Herbert, was about a year younger than Robert, a livelyboy, fond of manly sports and thoroughly democratic in his tastes. Hehad scraped acquaintance with our hero, making the first advances, forRobert was not disposed to intrude his company where he was not sure itwould be acceptable. 

When Robert came to the village to avoid meeting his uncle. In passingby the house of Mr. Irving he attracted the attention of Herbert, whowas sitting on the edge of the piazza. 

With him was another boy of about his own age, a cousin named GeorgeRandolph. He had come to Cook's Harbor to spend a fortnight with hiscousin, but the latter soon found that George was very hard toentertain. 

He was seldom willing to engage in any amusement selected by his cousin, but always had some plan of his own to propose. Moreover, he was proudof his social position and always looked down upon boys whose dressindicated a humbler rank than his own. 

The two cousins were sitting on the piazza doing nothing. Herbert hadproposed croquet, but George pronounced it too warm. He also declinedball for a similar reason. 

"It seems to me you are very much afraid of the sun, " said Herbert. 

"I don't care to get tanned up. It looks vulgar, " said George. 

"I like to have a good time, even if I do get browned up, " said hiscousin. 

"Then I don't agree with you, " said George in a superior tone. 

Just then Robert was seen approaching. 

"There's a boy that will play with me, " said Herbert, brightening up. 

"What boy?"

"There--the one that is just coming along. "

"That boy? Why, he isn't dressed as well as our coachman's son!"

"I can't help that; he's a nice fellow. Bob, come here; I want you. "

"You surely are not going to invite that common boy into the yard?"protested George hastily. 

"Why not? He has been here more than once. "

By this time Robert had reached the gate. 

Herbert jumped up and ran to open it. 

"I am glad to see you, Robert, " said Herbert cordially. "Are you in ahurry?"

"No, Herbert. "

"Then come in and have a game of croquet. "

"All right, but you'll easily beat me. "

"Never mind; you'll learn fast. Bob, this is my cousin, George Randolph. George, this is my friend, Robert Coverdale. "

George made the slightest possible inclination of the head and did notstir from where he was sitting. 

"He doesn't look very social, " thought Robert, greeting his friend'svisitor politely. 

"Here, Bob, select a mallet and ball. Shall I start first?"

"If you please. Won't your cousin play?"

"I'm very much obliged, I'm sure, for the invitation, " said George, "butI'd rather not. "

"George is afraid of being tanned by exposure to the sun, " explainedHerbert. "I hope you are not. "

"I don't think the sun will make me any browner than I am already, " saidRobert, laughing. 

"I agree with you, " said George in a sneering tone. 

Robert looked at him quickly, struck by his tone, and decided that hehad no particular desire to become any better acquainted. 

The game of croquet proceeded and Herbert was an easy victor. 

"I told you I should be beaten, Herbert, " said Robert. 

"Of course; I am much more used to the game than you. I will give youodds of half the game. You shall start from the other stake on thereturn course and I will try to overtake you. "

He came near succeeding, but Robert beat him by two wickets. 

After three games Herbert proposed ball, and Robert, who felt more athome in this game, agreed to it. 

"You'd better join us, George, " said his cousin. 

"No, I thank you. I have no inclination, I assure you. "

"I don't see what fun there can be in sitting on the piazza. "

"You forget that I have an opportunity of witnessing your friend'ssuperior playing. "

His tone made it clear to Robert that this was a sneer, but he had toomuch self-respect and too much regard for Herbert to take offense atit. 

"You mean my awkwardness, " he said. "You are quite welcome to theamusement it must afford you. "

George arched his brows in surprise. 

"Really this ragged boy is talking to me as if he considered me hisequal, " he thought. "It is Herbert's fault. He should not treat him sofamiliarly. I really don't care to be in such company. "

"You must excuse me, Herbert, " said George, rising with suitabledignity. "As you are provided with company, you can spare me. I will gointo the house and read for a while. "

"Very well, George. "

"I hope I haven't driven your cousin away, Herbert, " said Robert. 

"I don't care whether you have or not, Bob, " said Herbert, "I'm awfullydisappointed in him. Papa invited him to visit us, thinking he would becompany for me, but, instead of that, he objects to everything Ipropose. I find it very hard to entertain him. "

"He doesn't appear to fancy me, " said Robert. 

"Don't mind him, Bob. He's a mean, stuck-up fellow, if he is mycousin. "

"Perhaps he is not to blame. I am only a poor boy, belonging to afisherman's family. I am afraid I am not a suitable associate for you orhim, " said Robert with proud humility. 

"No more of that talk, Bob, " said Herbert. "You're suitable for me, anyhow, and I like you twice as much as my cousin. I don't care how youare dressed, as long as you are a good fellow. "

"At any rate, you are a good fellow, Herbert, " said Robert warmly. "Iliked you the very first day I saw you. "

"And I can say the same for you. Bob. Well, never mind about George. Leave him to his book. We'll amuse ourselves better. "

As Robert was playing he caught sight of his uncle on his way to thetavern. He knew, therefore, that he could return home without danger ofannoyance, and he excused himself to Herbert. As it was doubtful whetherhe could get anything to do in the village and as the boat would not bein use, he concluded to go out and see if he could not catch a few fishfor his aunt's dinner. 

"Well, come and play with me again very soon, Bob, " said his friend. 

"I will, Herbert. Thank you for inviting me. "

"Oh, I do that on my own account! I like your company. "

"Thank you!"

Robert went home and spent a short time with his aunt before setting outon his fishing trip. He only meant to go out a short distance and therewas plenty of time before noon. 

He was just getting out the boat when, to his dismay, he heard afamiliar but unwelcome voice hailing him. 

"Where are you going?"

"I am going a-fishing. I thought you were not going to use the boat. "

"Well, I am, " said the fisherman shortly. "Are you ready to give me thatmoney?"

"No, uncle, " said Robert firmly. 

"I have a right to it. "

"You don't need it and aunt does, " answered our hero. 

"Well, never mind about that now. You can go out with me. "

Considerably surprised at getting off so easily, Robert jumped into theboat with his uncle and they pushed off. 

"Pull for Egg Island, " said John Trafton. 

Egg Island, so called from its oval shape, was situated about threemiles from the cliff on which the fisherman's cabin stood and probablydid not comprise more than an acre of surface. It was rocky, partlycovered with bushes and quite unoccupied. 

Robert was puzzled, but did not venture to ask his uncle why they weregoing to this island. 

In due time they reached the rocky isle and the boat was rounded toshore. 

"You may jump out and get me a good-sized stick, " said the fisherman. 

Robert obeyed, though he feared the stick was to be used on his back. 

He had scarcely scrambled up the bank than he heard the sound of oars, and, looking back hastily, he saw his uncle pushing off from theisland. 

"I'm going to leave you here, you young rascal, till you agree to giveme that money, " said John Trafton triumphantly. "I'll let you know thatI won't be defied by a boy. "

Already the boat was several rods distant. 

Robert sat down on a rocky ledge and tried to realize his position. Hewas a prisoner on Egg Island and there he must stay till his uncle choseto release him. 

CHAPTER IX

ALONE ON AN ISLAND

Of course our hero's position was not to be compared with that of oneleft on a lonely island in the Pacific, but it was not agreeable. He wasonly three miles from the mainland, but there was no chance to crossthis brief distance. He had no boat, and though he could swim a little, he would inevitably have been drowned had he undertaken to swim toshore. 

Robert had read "Robinson Crusoe, " and he naturally thought of thatfamous mariner on finding himself in a similar position. 

He had never been on Egg Island before and he knew it only as he hadseen it from the mainland or from a boat. 

"That's a mean trick of Uncle John, " said Robert to himself. "If I hadsuspected what he was after I wouldn't have got out of the boat. "

Just then he saw the boat turn, the fisherman pulling for the island. 

Robert felt relieved. He was not to be left on the island after all. Hesat still and waited for the boat to approach. 

"Well, how do you like it?" asked Trafton when he was within a fewrods. 

"Not very well, " answered our hero. 

"You wouldn't care to stay here, I suppose?"

"No. "

"I will take you back into the boat if you will promise to give me thatmoney. "

It was a tempting proposal, and Robert was half inclined to yield. But, he reflected, his uncle had no claim to the money, and, if he securedit, would spend it for drink, while his aunt would lose the benefit ofit. He summoned all his courage and answered:

"You have no right to the money, uncle. I can't give it to you. "

"If you don't, I will row away and leave you. "

"Then you will be doing a very mean thing, " said Robert with spirit. 

"That's my lookout. Just understand that I am in earnest. Now, what doyou say?"

"I say no, " answered our hero firmly. 

"Then you may take the consequences, " said his uncle, with a mutteredcurse, as he turned the head of the boat and rowed rapidly away. 

Robert watched the receding boat, and for an instant he regretted hisdetermination. But it was only for an instant. 

"I have done what I thought to be right, " he said, "and I don't believeI shall have cause to repent it. I must see what is best to be done. "

He got up and set about exploring his small island kingdom. 

It was very rocky, the only vegetation being some scant grass and somewhortleberry bushes. Luckily it was the height of the berry season andthere was a good supply on the bushes. 

"I shan't starve just yet, " he said cheerfully. "These berries will keepme alive for a day or two, if I am compelled to remain as long. "

There was this advantage about the berries, that, in a measure, theysatisfied his thirst as well as his hunger. 

Robert did not immediately begin to gather berries, for it was yetearly, and too short a time had elapsed since breakfast for him to havegained an appetite. He wandered at random over his small kingdom andfrom the highest portion looked out to sea. 

Far away he saw several sails, but there was little chance of beingrescued by any. If he were seen, it would not be supposed that he wasconfined a prisoner on an island so near the mainland. Still Robert didnot feel that he was likely to be a prisoner for a long time. 

There were other fishermen, besides his uncle, at Cook's Harbor, and bynext morning, at the farthest, he would be able to attract the attentionof some one of them as he cruised near the island. 

But it would not be very pleasant to pass a night alone in such anexposed spot. 

Not long before a sloop had been wrecked upon the southwest corner ofthe island, and though no lives were lost, the vessel itself had been soinjured that there had been no attempt to repair or remove it. 

In coasting near the island Robert had often thought he would like toexamine the wreck, but he never had done so. It struck him now that hehad a capital opportunity to view it at his leisure. Of leisure, unfortunately, he had too much on his hands. 

There was a patch of sand at the corner where the sloop had run ashoreand the frame of the vessel had imbedded in it. A portion had been sweptaway, but a considerable part still remained. 

Robert clambered down and began to make an examination of the strandedvessel. 

"I suppose it belongs to me if I choose to claim it, " he said tohimself. "At any rate, no one else is likely to dispute my claim. Wouldn't it be jolly if I could find a keg of gold pieces hiddensomewhere about the old wreck? That would keep aunt and me for years andwe wouldn't feel any anxiety about support. "

This was very pleasant to think about certainly, but kegs of gold piecesare not often carried on sloops nowadays, as Robert very well knew. 

The chief use the old wreck was likely to be to him was in affordingmaterials for a raft by which he might find his way to the mainland. 

Our hero made a critical survey of the wreck and tried to pull it apart. This was not easy, but finally he was enabled to detach a few planks. 

"If I only had a saw, a hammer and some nails, " he thought, "I couldbuild a raft without much difficulty. But I don't see how I am going toget along without these. "

For the hammer he soon found a substitute in a hard rock of moderatesize. There were nails, but they were not easy to extricate from theplanks. As to a saw, there was no hope of getting one or anything thatwould answer the purpose of one. 

Robert worked hard for a couple of hours and in that time he hadaccomplished something. He had extricated half a dozen planks of unequallength, secured a supply of nails, more or less rusty, and thus hadalready provided the materials of a raft. 

The grand difficulty remained--to fashion them into a raft which wouldconvey him in safety to the shore of the mainland. 

I have said that he had no saw. He had a jackknife, however, and thiswas of some use to him, particularly in extricating the nails. It wasslow work, but he had all day before him. 

When the two hours were over he began to feel hungry. It was not farfrom the time when he was accustomed to take dinner, and he set aboutsatisfying his hunger. 

He went from bush to bush, plucking the ripe berries and eating them. They were very good, but not quite so hearty as a plate of meat andpotatoes. However, he would have had no meat if he had been able to sitdown at home. 

After dinner--if his repast of berries can be dignified by such aname--Robert sat down to rest a while before resuming his labors on theraft. 

He finally lay down with his head in the shadow of an unusually largebush, and, before he was fully aware of the danger, he had fallenasleep. When he awoke he saw by the position of the sun that it must beabout the middle of the afternoon. 

He jumped up hastily, and, first of all, took a hasty glance around tosee if he could anywhere descry a boat. But none was to be seen. 

"I must set about making my raft, " he decided. "It is getting late and Idon't know how long it may take me. "

It proved to be slow and rather difficult work. Robert was pounding awaywith his stone hammer when, to his great joy, he descried a boatrounding the corner of the island. 

It was rowed by a single boy. When he came near Robert recognized him asGeorge Randolph--the cousin of his friend Herbert. 

It happened that George was very fond of rowing and had a boat of hisown, which he rowed a good deal in Boston Harbor. 

He had long had an ambition to row to Egg Island and had selected thisday for the trip. He had not asked Herbert to accompany him, beingdesirous of saying that he had accomplished the entire trip alone. 

Though George had not seemed very friendly, Robert did not for a momentdoubt that he would be willing to help him in his strait, and he wasalmost as delighted to see him as he would have been to see Herberthimself. There would be no need now of the raft, and he gladly suspendedwork upon it. 

Rising to his feet, he called out:

"Hello, there!"

George paused in his rowing and asked--for he had not yet caught sightof Robert:

"Who calls?"

"I--Robert Coverdale!"

Then George, turning his glance in the right direction, caught sight ofthe boy he had tried to snub in the morning. 

CHAPTER X

ROBERT COMPLETES THE RAFT

"What do you want of me?" asked George superciliously. 

"Will you come to shore and take me into your boat?" asked Roberteagerly. 

"Why should I? You have no claims on me, " said George. "Indeed, I don'tknow you. "

"I was at Mr. Irving's this morning, playing croquet with Herbert. "

"I am aware of that, but that is no reason why I should take you into myboat. I prefer to be alone. "

If Robert had not been in such a strait he would not have pressed therequest, but he was not sure when there would be another chance to leavethe island, and he persisted. 

"You don't understand how I am situated, " he said. "I wouldn't ask sucha favor if I were not obliged to, but I have no other way of gettingback. If you don't take me in, I shall probably be obliged to stay hereall night. "

"How did you come here?" asked George, his curiosity aroused. 

"I came in a boat with my uncle. "

"Then you can go back with him. "

"He has gone back already. He is offended with me because I won't dosomething which he has no right to ask, and he has left me herepurposely. "

"Isn't your uncle a fisherman?"

"Yes. "

"I don't care to associate with a fisherman's boy, " said George. 

Robert had never before met a boy so disagreeable as George, and hisface flushed with anger and mortified pride. 

"I don't think you are any better than Herbert, " he said, "and he iswilling to associate with me, though I am a fisherman's boy. "

"I don't think much of his taste, and so I told him, " said George. "Myfather is richer than Mr. Irving, " he added proudly. 

"Do you refuse to take me in your boat then?" asked Robert. 

"I certainly do. "

"Although I may be compelled to stay here all night?"

"That's nothing to me. "

Robert was silent a moment. He didn't like to have any quarrel withHerbert's cousin, but he was a boy of spirit, and he could not letGeorge leave without giving vent to his feeling. 

"George Randolph, " he broke out, "I don't care whether your father isworth a million; it doesn't make you a gentleman. You are a mean, contemptible fellow!"

"How dare you talk to me in that way, you young fisherman?" gaspedGeorge in astonishment and wrath. 

"Because I think it will do you good to hear the truth, " said Roberthotly. "You are the meanest fellow I ever met, and if I were HerbertIrving I'd pack you back to the city by the first train. "

"You impudent rascal!" exclaimed George. "I've a good mind to come onshore and give you a flogging!"

"I wish you'd try it, " said Robert significantly. "You might findyourself no match for a fisherman's boy. "

"I suppose you'd like to get me on shore so that you might run off withmy boat?" sneered George. 

"I wouldn't leave you on the island, at any rate, if I did secure theboat, " said Robert. 

"Well, I won't gratify you, " returned George, "I don't care to have myboat soiled by such a passenger. "

"You'll get paid for your meanness some time, George Randolph. "

"I've taken too much notice of you already, you low fisherman, " saidGeorge. "I hope you'll have a good time staying here all night. "

He began to row away, and as his boat receded Robert saw departing withit the best chance he had yet had of escape from his irksome captivity. 

"I didn't suppose any boy could be so contemptibly mean, " he reflectedas his glance followed the boat, which gradually grew smaller andsmaller as it drew near the mainland. "I don't think I'm fond ofquarreling, but I wish I could get hold of that boy for five minutes. "

Robert's indignation was natural, but it was ineffective. He mightbreathe out threats, but while he was a prisoner his aristocratic foewas riding quickly over the waves. 

"He rows well, " thought our hero, willing to do George justice in thatrespect. "I didn't think a city boy could row so well. I don't believe Icould row any better myself, though I've been used to a boat ever sinceI was six years old. "

But it would not do to spend all the afternoon in watching George andhis boat or he would lose all chance of getting away himself beforenightfall. 

With a sigh he resumed work on the raft which he had hoped he couldafford to dispense with and finally got it so far completed that hethought he might trust himself on it. 

Robert was a little solicitous about the strength of his raft. It mustbe admitted that, though he had done the best he could, it was rather arickety concern. If the nails had been all whole and new and he had hada good hammer and strong boards he could easily have made a satisfactoryraft. 

But the materials at his command were by no means of the best. The nailswere nearly all rusty, some were snapped off in the middle and his stonedid not work with the precision of a regular hammer. 

"If it will only hold together till I can get to shore, " he thought, "Iwon't care if it goes to pieces the next minute. It seems a littleshaky, though. I must try to find a few more nails. It may increase thestrength of it. "

There was an end of a beam projecting from the sand, just at his feet. 

Robert expected that probably he might by unearthing it find somewhereabout it a few nails, and he accordingly commenced operations. 

If he had had a shovel or a spade, he could have worked to betteradvantage, but as it was he was forced to content himself with a largeshell which he picked up near the shore. 

Soon he had excavated a considerable amount of sand and brought to thesurface a considerable part of the buried beam. It was at this pointthat he felt the shell strike something hard. 

"I suppose it is a stone, " thought Robert. 

And he continued his work with the object of getting it out of the way. It was not long before the object was exposed to view. 

What was Robert's surprise and excitement to find it an ivoryportemonnaie, very much soiled and discolored by sea water!

Now, I suppose no one can find a purse or pocketbook without feeling hispulse a little quickened, especially where, as in Robert's case, moneyis so much needed. 

He immediately opened the portemonnaie, and to his great delight foundthat it contained several gold pieces. 

As my readers will feel curious to know the extent of his good luck, Iwill state definitely the amount of his discovery. There were two goldten-dollar pieces, two of five, one two-dollar-and-a-half piece andfifty cents in silver. In all there were thirty-three dollars in goldand silver. 

Robert's delight may be imagined. If he had felt in luck the day before, when he had been paid two dollars, how much more was he elated by a sumwhich to him seemed almost a fortune!

"I am glad George didn't take me on board his boat, " he reflected. "Ifhe had, I should never have found this money. Now, I don't care if I dostay here all night. Uncle had little idea what service he was doing mewhen he left me alone on Egg Island. "

Though Robert expressed his willingness to spend the night on EggIsland, he soon became eager to get home so that he could exhibit to hisaunt the evidence of his extraordinary luck. 

He anticipated the joy of the poor woman as she saw assured to her forweeks to come a degree of comfort to which for a long time she had beenunaccustomed. 

Robert examined his raft once more and resolved to proceed to make itready for service. It took longer than he anticipated, and it was nearlytwo hours later before he ventured to launch it. He used a board for apaddle, and on his frail craft he embarked, with a bold heart, for themainland. 

CHAPTER XI

A FRIEND GOES TO THE RESCUE

Leaving Robert for a time, we will accompany George Randolph on hishomeward trip. 

George did not at all enjoy the plain speaking he had heard from Robert. The more he thought of it the more his pride was outraged and the moredeeply he was incensed. 

"The low-lived fellow!" he exclaimed as he was rowing home. "I neverheard of such impudence before. He actually seemed to think that I wouldtake as a passenger a common fisherman's boy. I haven't sunk as low asthat. "

George was brought up to have a high opinion of himself and hisposition. He really thought that he was made of a different sort of claythan the poor boys with whom he was brought in contact, and his foolishparents encouraged him in this foolish belief. 

Probably he would have been very much shocked if it had become knownthat his own grandfather was an honest mechanic, who was compelled tolive in a very humble way. 

George chose to forget this or to keep it out of sight, as it might haveembarrassed him when he was making his high social pretensions. 

Falsely trained as he had been, and with a strong tendency toselfishness, George had no difficulty in persuading himself that he haddone exactly right in rebuking the forwardness of his humbleacquaintance. 

"He isn't fit to associate with a gentleman, " he said to himself. "Whatbusiness is it of mine that he has to stay on the island all night? Ifhis uncle left him there, I dare say he deserved it. "

George did not immediately land when he reached the beach, but floatedhere and there at will, enjoying the delightful sea breeze which set infrom seaward. At length, however, he became tired and landed. The boatdid not belong to him, but was hired of a fisherman living near by, whohad an extra boat. 

The owner of the boat was on hand when George landed. He was, though afisherman, a man of good, sound common sense, who read a good deal inhis leisure moments and was therefore well informed. Like many other NewEngland men of low position, he was superior to his humble station andwas capable of acquitting himself creditably in a much higher sphere. Itis from persons of his class that our prominent men are oftenrecruited. 

It may be mentioned here that, though George's father, as he liked toboast, was a rich man, the boy himself was very mean in money mattersand seldom willing to pay a fair price for anything. He was not abovedriving a close bargain, and to save five cents would dispute for halfan hour. 

"So you've got back young man?" said Ben Bence, the fisherman. "Did youhave a pleasant trip?"

"Quite fair, " answered George in a patronizing tone. "I rowed over toEgg Island and back. "

"That's doing very well for a city boy, " said the fisherman. 

"I should think it was good for any boy or man either, " said George, annoyed at this depreciation of his great achievement. 

Bence laughed. 

"Why, " said he, "I'm out for four or five hours sometimes. I don't thinkanything of rowing from fifteen to twenty miles, while you have rowedonly six. "

"I don't expect to row as far as a man, " said George, rather takendown. 

"The best rower round here among the boys is Bob Coverdaie, " said thefisherman. 

"What can he do?" asked George with a sneer. 

"He can row ten miles without feeling it, " said Bence. 

"Does he say so?" asked George in a meaning tone. 

"No, but I have seen him do it. He's been out with me more than once. He's a muscular boy, Bob is. Do you know him?"

"I have seen him, " answered George distantly. 

"He's a great chum of your cousin, Herbert Irving, " said Bence, "and soI thought you might have met him. "

This subject was not to George's taste, and he proceeded to change it. 

"Well, my good man, " he said patronizingly, "how much do I owe you?"

"So I am your good man?" repeated Ben Bence with an amused smile. "I ammuch obliged to you, I am sure. Well, you were gone about two hours, Ireckon. "

"I don't think it was quite as much as that, " said George. 

"I guess twenty-five cents will about pay me. "

"Twenty-five cents!" repeated George, all his meanness asserting itself. "I think that is a very high price!"

"Did you expect to get the boat for nothing?" asked the fisherman, surprised. 

"Of course not. I wouldn't be beholden to a fisherman, " George saidhaughtily. 

"Indeed! How much did you calculate to pay?"

"I think twenty cents is enough. "

"Then the only difference between us is five cents?"

"Yes. "

"Then you can pay me twenty cents. I can live without the extra fivecents. "

George, pleased at gaining his point, put two ten-cent pieces in thehands of the owner of the boat, saying:

"I don't care about the five cents, of course, but I don't like to paytoo much. "

"I understand, Master Randolph, " said the fisherman with a quizzicalsmile. "In your position, of course, you need to be economical. "

"What do you mean?" asked George with a flushed face. 

"Oh, nothing!" answered Ben Bence, smiling. 

The smile made George uncomfortable. Was it possible that this commonfisherman was laughing at him? But, of course, that did not matter, andhe had saved his five cents. 

George got home in time for supper, but it was not till after supperthat he mentioned to Herbert:

"I saw that young fisherman this afternoon. "

"What young fisherman?"

"The one you played croquet with this morning. "

"Oh, Bob Coverdale! Where did you see him?" asked Herbert withinterest. 

"On Egg Island. "

"How came he there?" inquired Herbert, rather surprised. 

"He went there in a boat with his uncle. I expect he's there now. "

"Why should he stay over there so long?"

"It's a rich joke, " said George, laughing. "It seems his uncle was madwith him and landed him there as a punishment. He's got to stay thereall night. "

"I don't see anything so very amusing in that, " said Herbert, who wasnow thoroughly interested. 

"He wanted me to take him off, " proceeded George. "He was trying tobuild a raft. I told him he'd better keep at it. "

If George had watched the countenance of his cousin he would have seenthat Herbert was very angry, but he was so amused by the thought ofRobert's perplexity that he did not notice. 

"Do you mean to say that you refused to take him off?" demanded Herbertin a quick, stern tone that arrested George's attention. 

"Of course I did! What claim had he on me?"

"And you deliberately left him there, when it would have been no troubleto give him a passage back?"

"Really, Herbert, I don't like your way of speaking. It was my boat--or, at least, I was paying for the use of it--and I didn't choose to takehim as a passenger. "

"George Randolph, do you want to know my opinion of you?" asked Herberthotly. 

"What do you mean?" stammered George. 

"I mean this, that I am ashamed of you. You are the most contemptiblymean fellow I ever met, and I am heartily sorry there is anyrelationship between us. "

"I consider that an insult!" exclaimed George, pale with anger. 

"I am glad you do. I mean it as such. Just tell my mother I won't beback till late in the evening. "

"Where are you going?"

"I am going to get a boat and row to Egg Island for Bob Coverdale, " andHerbert dashed up the street in the direction of the beach. 

"He must be crazy!" muttered George, looking after his cousin. 

Herbert Irving reached the beach and sought out Ben Bence. 

"Mr. Bence, " he said, "I want to go to Egg Island. If you can spare thetime, come with me and I'll pay you for your time. "

"What are you going for, Master Herbert?"

Upon this Herbert explained the object of his trip. 

"Now, will you go?" he asked. 

"Yes, " answered the fisherman heartily, "I'll go and won't charge you acent for the boat or my time. Bob Coverdale's a favorite of mine, andI'm sorry his uncle treats him so badly. "

Strong, sturdy strokes soon brought them to the island. 

"Bob! Where are you. Bob?" called Herbert. 

There was no answer. The island was so small that he would have beenseen if he had been there. 

"He must have got off, " said Herbert. "George said he was building araft. "

"Then I mistrust something's happened to the poor boy, " said Bencegravely. "He couldn't build a raft here that would hold together till hereached the mainland. "

Herbert turned pale. 

"I hope it isn't so bad as that, " he said. "Let us row back as quick aswe can!"

CHAPTER XII

A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE

As they were rowing back they scanned the sea in every direction, butnowhere did they discover any signs of Robert or his raft. 

"Perhaps, " suggested Herbert, breaking a long silence, "Bob is alreadyat home. "

He looked inquiringly in the face of his companion to see what hethought of the chances. 

"Mayhap he is, " said Ben Bence slowly, "but I mistrust he found it toorough for the raft. "

"In that case----" said Herbert anxiously and stopped without answeringthe question. 

"In that case the poor boy's at the bottom of the sea, it's likely. "

"He could swim, Mr. Bence. "

"Yes, but the tide would be too strong for him. Just about now there's afearful undertow. I couldn't swim against it myself, let alone a boy. "

"If anything has happened to him it's his uncle's fault, " said Herbert. 

"John Trafton will have to answer for it, " said the fisherman sternly. "There ain't one of us that don't love Bob. He's a downright good boy, Bob Coverdale is, and a smart boy, too. "

"If he's lost I will never have anything more to do with GeorgeRandolph. I will ask mother to pack him back to Boston to-morrow. "

"George ain't a mite like you, " said Ben Bence. 

"I hope not, " returned Herbert hastily. "He's one of the meanest boys Iever met. He might just as well have taken poor Bob off the island thisafternoon, if he hadn't been so spiteful and ugly. "

"It would serve him right to leave him there a while himself, " suggestedBence. 

"I agree with you. "

There was another pause. Each was troubled by anxious thoughts about themissing boy. 

When they reached the shore Herbert said:

"I'm going to Mr. Trafton's to see if Bob has got home. "

"I'll go with you, " said the fisherman briefly. 

They reached the humble cabin of the Traftons and knocked at the door. 

Mrs. Trafton opened it. 

"Good evening, Mr. Bence, " she said. "I believe this young gentleman isMaster Herbert Irving? I have often heard Robert speak of him. "

"Is Robert at home?" asked Herbert eagerly. 

"No, he has been away all day, " answered his aunt. 

"Do you know where he is?" inquired Ben Bence soberly. 

"Mr. Trafton wouldn't tell me. He said he had sent him away on someerrand, but I don't see where he could have gone, to stay so long. "

It was clear Mrs. Trafton knew nothing of the trick which had beenplayed upon her nephew. 

"Tell her, Mr. Bence, " said Herbert, turning to his companion. 

"Has anything happened to Robert?" asked Mrs. Trafton, turning pale. 

They told her how her husband had conveyed Robert to Egg Island and thentreacherously left him there, to get off as he might. 

"Was there any difficulty between Bob and his uncle?" asked Ben Bence. 

"Yes; the boy had a little money which had been given him and my husbandordered him to give it up to him. He'd have done it, if he hadn't wantedto spend it for me. He was always a considerate boy, and I don't knowwhat I should have done without him. Mr. Bence, I know it's a good dealto ask, but I can't bear to think of Robert staying on the island allnight. Would you mind rowing over and bringing him back?"

As yet Mrs. Trafton did not understand that any greater peril menacedher nephew. 

"Mrs. Trafton, we have just been over to Egg Island, " said thefisherman. 

"And didn't you find him?"

"No; he was not there. "

"But how could he get off?"

"He was seen this afternoon making a raft from the old timbers he foundin the wreck. He must have put to sea on it. "

"Then why is he not here?"

"The sea was rough, and----"

Mrs. Trafton, who had been standing, sank into a chair with a startledlook. 

"You don't think my boy is lost?"

"I hate to think so, Mrs. Trafton, but it may be. "

From grief there was a quick transition to righteous indignation. 

"If the poor boy is drowned, I charge John Trafton with his death!" saidthe grief-stricken woman with an energy startling for one of her usuallycalm temperament. 

"What's this about John Trafton?" demanded a rough voice. 

It was John Trafton himself, who, unobserved, had reached the door ofthe cabin. 

Ben Bence and Herbert shrank from him with natural aversion. 

"So you're talking against me behind my back, are you?" asked Trafton, looking from one to the other with a scowl. 

His wife rose to her feet and turned upon him a glance such as he hadnever met before. 

"What have you done with Robert, John Trafton?" she demanded sternly. 

"Oh! that's it, is it?" he said, laughing shortly. "I've served him ashe deserved. "

"What have you done with him?" she continued in a slow, measured voice. 

"You needn't come any tragedy over me, old woman!" he answered withannoyance. "I left him on Egg Island to punish him for disobeying me!"

"I charge you with his murder!" she continued, confronting him with acourage quite new to her. 

"Murder!" he repeated, starting. "Come, now, that's a little too strong!Leaving him on Egg Island isn't murdering him. You talk like a fool!"

"Trafton, " said Ben Bence gravely, "there is reason to think that yournephew put off from the island on a raft, which he made himself, andthat the raft went to pieces. "

For the first time John Trafton's brown face lost its color. 

"You don't mean to say Bob's drowned?" he ejaculated. 

"There is reason to fear that he may be. "

"I'll bet he's on the island now. "

"We have just been there and he is not there. "

At length Trafton began to see that the situation was a grave one, andhe began to exculpate himself. 

"If he was such a fool as to put to sea on a crazy raft it ain't myfault, " he said. "I couldn't help it, could I?"

"If you hadn't left him there he would still be alive and well. "

John Trafton pulled out his red cotton handkerchief from his pocket andbegan to wipe his forehead, on which the beads of perspiration weregathering. 

"Of course I wouldn't have left him there if I'd known what he woulddo, " he muttered. 

"Did you mean to leave him there all night?" asked Bence. 

"Yes, I meant it as a lesson to him, " said the fisherman. 

"A lesson to him? You are a fine man to give a lesson to him! You, whospend all your earnings for drink and leave me to starve! John Trafton, I charge you with the death of poor Robert!" exclaimed Mrs. Trafton withstartling emphasis. 

Perhaps nothing more contributed to overwhelm John Trafton than thewonderful change which had taken place in his usually gentle andsubmissive wife. He returned her accusing glance with a look ofdeprecation. 

"Come now, Jane, be a little reasonable, " he said. "You're very muchmistaken. It was only in fun I left him. I thought it would be a goodjoke to leave him on the island all night. Say something for me, Ben--there's a good fellow. "

But Ben Bence was not disposed to waste any sympathy on John Trafton. Hewas glad to see Trafton brought to judgment and felt like deepening hissense of guilt rather than lightening it. 

"Your wife is right, " he said gravely. "If poor Bob is dead, you areguilty of his death in the sight of God. "

"But he isn't dead! It's all a false alarm. I'll get my boat and rowover to the island myself. Very likely he had gone to sleep among thebushes and that prevented your seeing him. "

There was a bare possibility of this, but Ben Bence had little faith init. 

"Go, if you like, " he said. "If you find him, it will lift a greatweight from your conscience. "

John Trafton dashed to the shore, flung himself into his boat, and, withfeverish haste, began to row toward the island. He bitterly repented nowthe act which had involved him in such grave responsibility. 

He was perfectly sober, for his credit at the tavern was temporarilyexhausted. 

Of course those who remained behind in the cabin had no hope of Robertbeing found. They were forced to believe that the raft had gone topieces and the poor boy, in his efforts to reach the shore, had beenswept back into the ocean by the treacherous undertow and was now lyingstiff and stark at the bottom of the sea. 

"What shall I ever do without Robert?" said Mrs. Trafton, her defiantmood changing, at her husband's departure, to an outburst of grief. "Hewas all I had to live for. "

"You have your husband, " suggested Ben Bence doubtfully. 

"My husband!" she repeated drearily. "You know how little company he isfor me and how little he does to make me comfortable and happy. I willnever forgive him for this day's work. "

Ben Bence, who was a just man, ventured to represent that Trafton didnot foresee the result of his action; but, in the sharpness of herbereavement, Mrs. Trafton would find no excuse for him. 

Herbert, too, looked pale and distressed. He had a genuine attachmentfor Robert, whose good qualities he was able to recognize andappreciate, even if he was a fisherman's nephew. 

He, too, thought sorrowfully of his poor friend, snatched from life andswept by the cruel and remorseless sea to an ocean grave. He, too, hadhis object of resentment. 

But for George Randolph, he reflected, Robert would now be alive andwell, and he resolved to visit George with his severest reproaches. 

While all were plunged in a similar grief a strange thing happened. 

The door of the cabin was closed by John Trafton as he went out. 

Suddenly there was heard a scratching at the door, and a sound was heardas of a dog trying to excite attention. 

"It must be my dog Dash, " said Herbert. "I wonder how he found me out?"

He advanced to the door and opened it. Before him stood a dog, but itwas not Dash. It was a large black dog, with an expression ofintelligence almost human. He had in his mouth what appeared to be ascrap of writing paper. This he dropped on the ground when he saw thathe had attracted Herbert's attention. 

"What does this mean?" thought Herbert in great surprise, "and wheredoes this dog come from?"

He stooped and picked up the paper, greatly to the dog's apparentsatisfaction. It was folded in the middle and contained, written inpencil, the following message, which, not being directed to any one inparticular, Herbert felt at liberty to read:

"Feel no anxiety about Robert Coverdale. He is safe!"

Herbert read the message, the dog uttered a quick bark of satisfaction, and, turning, ran down the cliff to the beach. 

Herbert was so excited and delighted at the news of his friend's safetythat he gave no further attention to the strange messenger, but hurriedinto the cabin. 

"Mrs. Trafton--Mr. Bence!" he exclaimed, "Bob is safe!"

"What do you mean? What have you heard?" they asked quickly. 

"Read this!" answered Herbert, giving Mrs. Trafton the scrap of paper. 

"Who brought it?" she asked, bewildered. 

"A dog. "

Ben Bence quickly asked:

"What do you mean?"

"I know nothing more than that a large black dog came to the door withthis in his mouth, which he dropped at my feet. "

"That is very strange, " said Bence. 

He opened the door and looked out, but no dog was to be seen. 

"Do you believe this? Can it be true?" asked Mrs. Trafton. 

"I believe it is true, though I can't explain it, " answered Ben. "Somedogs are wonderfully trained. I don't know whom this dog belongs to, butwhoever it is he doubtless has Robert under his care. Let us be thankfulthat he has been saved. "

"But why don't he come home?" asked Mrs. Trafton. "Where can he be?"

"He was probably rescued in an exhausted condition. Cheer up, Mrs. Trafton. You will no doubt see your boy to-morrow. "

"I feel like giving three cheers, Mr. Bence, " said Herbert. 

"Then give 'em, boy, and I'll help you!" said old Ben. 

The three cheers were given with a will, and Herbert went home, hisheart much lighter than it had been ten minutes before. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE CRUISE OF THE RAFT

It is time we carried the reader back to the time when Robert, afterlaunching his rude raft, set out from the island of his captivity. 

Notwithstanding his rather critical situation, he was in excellentspirits. The treasure which he had unearthed from the wreck very muchelated him. It meant comfort and independence for a time at least, andin his new joy he was even ready to forgive his uncle for leaving him onthe island and Randolph for not taking him off. 

"I've heard of things turning out for the best, " was the thought thatpassed through his mind, "but I never understood it so well before. "

Robert possessed a large measure of courage and he had been used to thesea from the age of six, or as far back as he could remember, but whenhe had rounded the Island and paddled a few rods out to sea he began tofeel serious. 

There was a strong wind blowing, and this had roughened the sea and madeit difficult for him to guide his extemporized raft in the direction hedesired. 

Had it been his uncle's fishing boat and had he but possessed a goodpair of stout oars, he would have experienced no particular difficulty. 

He would perhaps have found it rather hard pulling, but he was unusuallystrong for his age, and, in the end, he would have reached the shore. But with a frail raft, loosely put together, and only a board to row orpaddle with, his progress was very slow. 

He did make a little progress, however, but it was so little that, atthe end of fifteen minutes, he seemed as far off from the little cabinon the cliff as ever. 

"It's hard work, " said Robert to himself. "I wish I had a boat. If itwere smooth water, I could get along with a raft, but now----"

He stopped short, as the raft was lifted on the crest of a wave, and henearly slid off into the water. 

He looked back to the island and began to consider whether it would notbe best, after all, to paddle back and trust to being taken off the nextmorning by some fisherman's boat. 

No doubt that would have been the most sensible thing to do, but Robertwas very reluctant to relinquish his project. 

Had he not devoted several hours to constructing the raft he was tryingto navigate and should he allow this time to be thrown away?

Again, the prospect of passing a night upon Egg Island was not veryinviting. There was nothing to fear, of course, for the island was toosmall to be infested by wild animals or even snakes. He could no doubtsleep some, even if his bed were not very comfortable. 

Robert looked back. By this time he was half a mile, at a rough guess, from Egg Island, and between his raft and the mainland there intervenedprobably two miles and a half of rough sea. 

"If I can get within half a mile of shore, " thought our young hero, "Iwon't care for the raft any longer. I will plunge into the waves andswim to the shore. "

He looked toward the shore. 

There, in plain view, was the humble cabin which he called home. Insidedoubtless was his aunt, worrying perhaps about his absence. 

"How delighted she will be when I tell her of the money I have found!"thought Robert joyfully. "Come, Bob, brace up now and push out boldlyfor home. "

With his eyes fixed on the cabin, our young hero used his paddle withsuch energy that, in the course of half an hour or thereabouts, he wasabout a mile farther on his way. 

He had gone half way, and though he was somewhat fatigued, he was strongand muscular, and the chances were that he would be able to hold outtill he reached the boat landing. 

But now a new danger threatened itself. 

The assaults of the sea had strained heavily the raft, which he had notbeen able, for want of nails, to make strong and secure. 

Robert's heart beat with quiet alarm as he realized that there was smallchance of his frail craft holding together till he reached shore. 

The danger was hardly realized before it came. 

A strong wave wrenched apart the timbers, and Robert Coverdale foundhimself, without warning, spilled into the sea, a mile and a half fromland. 

Instinctively he struck out and began to swim, but the distance wasgreat and he was impeded by his clothes. 

Looking neither to the right nor to the left, but only straight ahead, he swam with all the strength there was left to him, but he foundhimself weakening after a while and gave himself up for lost. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE HERMIT OF THE CLIFF

The last thing that Robert could remember was the singing of the watersin his ears and a weight as of lead that bore him downward with a forcewhich he felt unable to resist. 

But at the critical moment, when the doors of death seemed to beswinging open to admit him, he was firmly seized by a slender, musculararm, extended from a boat shaped somewhat like an Indian canoe and rowedby a tall, thin man with white hair and a long white beard. 

In the dusk our hero had not seen the boat nor known that help was sonear at hand. But the occupant of the boat had, from a distance, seenthe going to pieces of the raft, and appreciated the peril of the braveswimmer, and paddled his boat energetically toward him just in time torescue him when already insensible. 

Pale and with closed eyes lay Robert in the bottom of the boat. The oldman--for so he appeared--rather anxiously opened the boy's shirt andplaced his hand over his heart. An expression of relief appeared on hisface. 

"He will do, " he said sententiously and turned his attention to theboat. 

Half a mile from the cliff on which stood the fisherman's cabin wasanother, rising to a greater height. 

To this the stranger directed his boat. He fastened it and then, raisingour hero in his arms, walked toward the cliff. 

There was a cavity as wide as a door, but less in height, through whichhe passed, lowering his head as he entered. Inside the opening steadilywidened and became higher. This cavity was about ten feet above thesandy beach and was reached by a ladder. 

On he passed, guided amid the darkness by a light from a lantern hangingfrom the roof. The front portion of the cavern seemed like a hall, through which a narrow doorway led into a larger room, which wasfurnished like the interior of a house. Upon a walnut table stood alamp, which the stranger lighted. He took the boy, already beginning tobreathe more freely, and laid him on a lounge, covered with a buffaloskin, at the opposite side of the apartment. From a shelf he took abottle and administered a cordial to Robert, who, though not yetsensible, mechanically swallowed it. 

The effect was almost instantaneous. 

The boy opened his eyes and looked about him in bewilderment. 

"Where am I?" he inquired. 

"What can you remember?" asked the old man. 

Robert shuddered. 

"I was struggling in the water, " he answered. "I thought I wasdrowning. "

Then, gazing at the strange apartment and the majestic face of thevenerable stranger, he said hesitatingly:

"Am I still living or was I drowned?"

He was not certain whether he had made the mysterious passage from thisworld to the next, so strange and unfamiliar seemed everything abouthim. 

"You are still in life, " answered the stranger, smiling gravely. "Godhas spared you, and a long life is yet before you if He wills. "

"And you saved me?"

"Yes. "

"How can I thank you? I owe you my life, " said Robert gratefully. 

"I am indebted to you for the opportunity once more to be of use to oneof my race. "

"I don't understand how you could have saved me. When I went down Icould see no one near. "

"On account of the dusk. I was not far away in my boat. I saw your periland hastened to your assistance. Fortunately I was not too late. Do youknow who it is that has saved you?"

"Yes, " answered Robert. 

"You have seen me before?"

"Yes, but not often. "

"How do people call me?"

"They call you 'the hermit of the cliff. '"

"As well that as anything else, " said the old man. "What more do theysay of me?"

Robert seemed reluctant to tell, but there was something imperative inthe old man's tone. 

"Some say you are crazy, " he answered. 

"I am not surprised to hear it. The world is apt to say that of one whobehaves differently from his fellows. But I must not talk too much ofmyself. How do you feel?"

"I feel weak, " answered Robert. 

"Doubtless. Swimming against such a current was a severe strain uponyour strength. Let me feel your pulse. "

He pressed his finger upon Robert's pulse and reported that the actionwas slow. 

"It means exhaustion, " he said. "You must sleep well, and to-morrowmorning you will feel as well as usual. "

"But I ought to go home, " said Robert, trying to rise. "My aunt willfeel anxious about me. "

"Who is your aunt?"

"I am the nephew of John Trafton, who has a small house on the cliff. "

"I know. He is a fisherman. "

"Yes, sir. "

"Don't disturb yourself. Word shall be sent to your aunt that you aresafe. I will give you a sleeping draught, and tomorrow morning we willspeak further. "

Somehow Robert did not dream of resisting the will of his host. The oldman had an air of command to which it seemed natural to submit. Moreover, he knew that to this mysterious stranger--the hermit of thecliff, as the fishermen called him--he was indebted for his life, andsuch a man must necessarily be his friend. Robert was, besides, in thatcondition of physical languor when, if he had felt disposed, he wouldhave found it very difficult to make resistance to the will of another. 

"First of all, " said the old man, "you must take off your wet clothes. Iwill place them where they can dry, so that you may put them on in themorning. "

With assistance Robert divested himself of his wet garments. As we know, he had little to take off. The stranger brought out a nightgown and thenplaced our hero in his own bed, wrapping him up in blankets. 

"Now for the sleeping draught, " he said. 

From a bottle he poured out a few drops, which Robert swallowed. In lessthan three minutes he had closed his eyes and was in a profoundslumber. 

The old man regarded him with satisfaction as he lay breathingtranquilly upon the bed. 

"He is young and strong. Nature has been kind to him and given him anexcellent constitution. Sleep will repair the ill effects of exposure. Imust remember my promise to the boy, " he said. 

Turning to the table, he drew from a drawer writing materials and wrotethe brief message which, as we have already seen, was duly delivered, and then walked to the entrance of the cavern. 

He placed a whistle to his lips, and in response to his summons a blackdog came bounding to him from the recesses of the grotto and fawned uponhim. 

"Come with me, Carlo; I have work for you, " he said. 

The dog, as if he understood, followed his master out upon the beach. 

They walked far enough to bring into clear distinctness the cabin on thecliff. 

"Do you see that house. Carlo?" asked his master, directing the dog'sattention with his outstretched finger. 

Carlo answered by a short, quick bark, which apparently meant "yes. "

"Carry this note there. Do you understand?"

The dog opened his mouth to receive the missive and trotted contentedlyaway. 

The hermit turned and retraced his steps to the cavern. He stood besidethe bed and saw, to his satisfaction, that Robert was still sleepingpeacefully. 

"It is strange, " said he musingly, "that I should feel such an interestin this boy. I had forsworn all intercourse with my kind, save toprovide myself with the necessaries of life. For two years I have livedhere alone with my dog and I fancied that I felt no further interest inthe affairs of my fellow men. Yet here is a poor boy thrown on my hands, and I feel positive pleasure in having him with me. Yet he is nothing tome. He belongs to a poor fisherman's family, and probably he isuneducated, and has no tastes in common with me. Yet he is an attractiveboy. He has a well-shaped head and a bright eye. There must be acapacity for something better and higher. I will speak with him in themorning. "

He opened a volume from his bookcase, to which reference has not as yetbeen made, and for two hours he seemed to be absorbed by it. 

Closing it at length, he threw himself upon the couch on which Roberthad at first been placed and finally fell asleep. 

CHAPTER XV

THE HOME OF THE HERMIT

When Robert awoke the next morning he found himself alone. His strangehost was absent, on some errand perhaps. 

After a brief glance of bewilderment, Robert remembered where he was, and with the recovery of his strength, which had been repaired by sleep, he felt a natural curiosity about his host and his strange home. 

So far as he knew, he was the first inhabitant of the village who hadbeen admitted to a sight of its mystery. 

For two years the hermit of the cliff had made his home there, but hehad shunned all intercourse with his neighbors and had coldly repelledall advances and checked all curiosity by his persistent taciturnity. From time to time he went to the village for supplies, and when theywere too bulky to admit of his carrying them, he had had them deliveredon the beach in front of the entrance to his cave dwelling and at hisleisure carried them in himself. 

He always attracted attention, as with his tall, slender, majesticfigure he moved through the village, or paced the beach, or impelled hisfrail boat. But speculation as to who he was or what had induced him tobecome a recluse had about ceased from the despair of obtaining anylight upon these points. 

No wonder then that Robert, admitted by chance to his dwelling, lookedabout him in curious wonder. 

Cavern as it was, the room was fitted up with due regard to comfort andeven luxury. 

The bed on which our hero reposed was soft and inviting. The rough stonefloor was not carpeted, but was spread with Turkish rugs. There was abookcase, containing perhaps two hundred books; there was a table andwriting desk, an easy-chair and a rocking-chair, and the necessarilydark interior was lighted by an astral lamp, diffusing a soft andpleasant light. On a shelf ticked a French clock and underneath it was abureau provided with toilet necessaries. 

No one in the village knew how these articles had been spirited into thecavern. No one of the villagers had assisted. Indeed, no one, exceptRobert, knew that the hermit was so well provided with comforts. 

Our hero found his clothes on a chair at his bedside. They were drierand suitable for wearing. 

"I may as well dress, " thought Robert. "I won't go away till I've seenthe hermit. I want to thank him again for taking such good care of me. "

He did not have to wait long, however. He had scarcely completed histoilet when the hermit appeared. 

"So, my young friend, you arc quite recovered from your bath?"

"Yes, sir. "

"That is well. "

"I think, sir, I had better go home now, for my aunt will be anxiousabout me. "

"I sent a message to your aunt last evening. She knew before she went tobed that you were safe. "

"Thank you, sir!"

"I am not apt to be curious, but I wish, before you leave me, to ask youa few questions. Sit down, if you please. "

Robert seated himself. He felt that the hermit had a right to ask somequestions of one whom he had saved. 

"How came you so far out at sea on a frail raft? If you had beenshipwrecked, that would explain it, but as you have not been to sea, Icannot understand it. "

"I found myself on Egg Island, without any means of getting off. So Imade a raft from the timbers of the wreck and launched it. I thought itwould last long enough for me to reach land. "

"It was a hazardous enterprise. But how came you on the island? Surelyyou did not swim there?"

"No, sir. My uncle carried me there in his boat. He refused to take meoff unless I would give up some money which I wanted to spend for myaunt. "

"Was the money yours?"

"Yes, sir. It was given me by a gentleman living at the hotel. "

"Your uncle--John Trafton--is not a temperate man?"

"No, sir. He spends all the money he earns on drink, and my aunt and Ihave to live as we can. "

"What a fool is man!" said the hermit musingly. "He alone of createdbeings allows himself to be controlled by his appetites, whileprofessing to stand at the head of the universe!"

Robert felt that he was not expected to answer this speech and remainedrespectfully silent till his host resumed his questioning. 

"And you, " said the old man abruptly, "what do you do?"

"Sometimes I go out with my uncle's boat and catch fish for use at home. Sometimes I find jobs to do in the village which bring in a littlemoney. I am always glad of that, for we can't buy groceries withoutmoney, and my uncle never gives us any. My aunt is very fond of tea, butonce for three weeks she had to do without it. "

"That was a pity. There are some who find great comfort in tea. "

"It is so with Aunt Jane. She says it puts new life in her. "

"Have you any money now?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you of my good luck!" said Robert eagerly. "Justbefore I left the wreck I dug up this, " and he displayed the purse withthe gold pieces in it. "It would have been a pity if I had been drownedwith all this in my pocket. "

"My poor boy, your young life would have outweighed a thousandfold thevalue of these paltry coins. Still I do not depreciate them, for theymay be exchanged for comforts. But will not your uncle seek to take themfrom you?"

"He will not know that I have this money. I shall not tell him. "

"It will be better. "

For a brief time the hermit gazed at Robert in thoughtful silence andthen said:

"How old are you?"

"Fifteen, sir. "

"Have you ever thought of life and its uses--I mean of the uses of yourown life? Have you ever formed plans for the future?"

"No, sir. It did not seem of much use. I have had to consider how to getenough for my aunt and myself to live upon. "

"So your uncle's burdens have been laid on your young shoulders? Haveyou no aspirations? Are you willing to follow in his steps and grow up afisherman, like your neighbors?"

"No, sir. I should be very sorry if I thought I must always live here atCook's Harbor and go out fishing. I should like to see something of theworld, as I suppose you have. "

"Yes, I have seen much of the world--too much for my happiness--or Iwould not have come to this quiet spot to end my days. But for a youngand guileless boy, whose life is but beginning, the world has itscharms. Do you care for books?"

"I have never looked into many, sir, but that is not my fault. I havehalf a dozen tattered books at home and I study in some of them everyday. I have been nearly through the arithmetic and I know something ofgeography. Sometimes I get hold of a paper, but not often, for my uncletakes none and does not care for reading. "

"Look among my books. See if there is any one you would like to read. "

Robert had already cast wistful glances at the rows of books in thehandsome bookcase. 

He had never before seen so many books together, for Cook's Harbor wasnot noted for its literary men and book lovers. He gladly accepted thehermit's invitation. 

His attention was quickly drawn to a set of the Waverley novels. He hadoften heard of them, and an extract which he had seen in his schoolreader from "Rob Roy" had given him a strong desire to read the storyfrom which it was taken. 

"I should like to borrow 'Rob Roy, '" he said. 

"You may take it. When you have read it, you may, upon returning it, have another. "

"Then I may call to see you, sir?"

"I shall be glad to have you do so. It is an invitation I never expectedto give, but you have interested me, and I may be able to serve you atsome time. "

"Thank you, sir. If you should ever want any one to run errands for you, I hope you will call upon me. I should like to make some return for yourgreat kindness. "

"That is well thought of. You may come to me every Tuesday and Fridaymornings, at nine o'clock, and carry my orders to the village. I do notcare to go there, but have had no messenger I could trust. For thisservice I will pay you two dollars a week. "

Robert was astonished at the mention of such liberal payment. 

"But, sir, that is rather too much, " he began. 

"Let it be so, " said the hermit. "I have money in plenty and it does notbring me happiness. In your hands it may do good. "

"It will be a great help to me, sir. "

"It is understood then. I will not detain you longer. Go home andgladden the heart of your aunt. "

Robert left the cavern, more than ever puzzled by his brief acquaintancewith the mysterious recluse. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE FISHERMAN'S TEMPTATION

It is needless to say that Robert received a joyful welcome from hisaunt. Her joy was increased when her nephew showed her the gold which hehad found upon the island. 

"You see, aunt, " he said, "it wasn't such bad luck, after all, to beleft on the island. "

"God has so shaped events as to bring good out of evil, " answered Mrs. Trafton, who was a religious woman and went regularly to church, thoughher husband never accompanied her. "But I am afraid your uncle will tryto get the money away from you. "

"I don't want him to know it, aunt. "

"I shall not tell him, Robert, but he may find out. "

"That is not all. I have got regular work to do which will bring me intwo dollars a week. "

Then Robert told his surprised aunt the story of his engagement by thehermit, who for two years had been the mystery of the village. 

"It never rains but it pours, you see, aunt, " he said cheerfully. 

He wondered how his uncle would receive him and whether he would make afresh demand for the small sum of money which had been the cause of theoriginal trouble. 

But John Trafton had been thoroughly alarmed by the consequences of hisformer act and he had, besides, such experience of Robert's firmnessthat he concluded it would not be worth while to carry the matter anyfurther. He greeted Robert sullenly. 

"So you are back?" he said gruffly. 

"Yes, " answered the boy. 

"Who took you off?"

"I put off on a raft and should have been drowned but for the hermit. Hesaved me. "

"You deserved to be drowned for putting off on a raft. "

"Did you think I was going to stay on the island?" asked Robert withspirit. "If I had been drowned it would have been your fault. "

"None of your impudence, boy!" said John Trafton. 

And then he dropped the subject without referring to the money. 

During the day Robert called on Herbert Irving to thank him for hisinterest in his behalf. 

George was in the yard, but his valise was in his hand and he seemed onthe point of departure. He scowled at Robert, but didn't speak. 

"I'm glad to see you back, Bob, " said Herbert warmly. "What an oldrascal your uncle is! Now tell me all about how you escaped. "

While Robert was telling the story the stage drove up and George got onboard. 

"Good-by, George!" said Herbert. 

George did not deign a reply and rode sullenly away. 

"He doesn't find that the climate of Cook's Harbor suits him, " saidHerbert significantly. 

"He doesn't seem very happy about going, " said Robert. "I didn't expecthe would notice me, but he did not bid you good-by. "

"The fact is George and I have had a flare-up, " said Herbert. "I wasdisgusted with his heartlessness in refusing to take you from EggIsland, and I told him so pretty plainly. He accused me of insulting himand threatened to lay a complaint before my mother. I requested him todo so. Considerably to his surprise, she took my part and reproved himfor his selfish and disagreeable pride. This was too much for the younggentleman, and he gave notice that he should return to the city. No oneattempted to keep him, and he has felt compelled to carry out histhreat, a good deal to his disappointment. "

"I am sorry you are losing your visitor on my account, Herbert. "

"You needn't. Though he is my cousin, I am glad to have him go. "

"But you will feel lonely. "

"Not if you come to see me every day, Bob. "

"If we didn't live in a poor cabin, I would ask you to visit me. "

"Never mind about how you live; I will come. It isn't the house I shallcome to see, but you. Some time when you are going out fishing I wishyou would take me along. "

"With all my heart, if you will come. "

To Herbert alone Robert confided his discovery of the purse of gold. 

It was about a week before Robert had occasion to use any of his gold. By that time he had spent the balance of the money given him by Mr. Lawrence Tudor and was forced to fall back upon his gold, having as yetreceived nothing from the hermit, who knew that he was not in immediatewant of money. 

Abner Sands was standing behind the counter in his grocery when Robertentered. 

"What can I do for ye, Robert?" asked the trader. 

"You may give me two pounds of tea and six pounds of flour. "

"I s'pose ye've got the money, " said Sands cautiously. 

"Of course I have. "

"You're doin' well now, Robert, I take it?" said the trader. 

"Better than I used to, " answered Robert. 

He did not choose to make a confidant of Mr. Sands, who was a man ofgreat curiosity and an inveterate gossip. 

When the goods were done up in separate parcels Robert took out thetwo-dollar-and-a-half gold piece and passed it to the grocer. 

"Why, I declare, it's gold!" exclaimed Mr. Sands wonderingly. 

"Yes, it is gold. "

"Of all things, I didn't expect to get gold from you, Robert Coverdale. I reckon you've found a gold mine!"

"Perhaps I have, " said Robert, smiling. 

As he put his hand in his pocket another gold piece dropped to the floorand he picked it up hastily, provoked at his carelessness, not, however, before the astonished trader had seen it. 

He was sorely puzzled to know how a poor boy like Robert could have somuch money in his possession and put one or two questions, which ourhero evaded. 

"The tea and flour came to a dollar and a quarter, " said the shrewdtrader, "and that leaves a dollar and a quarter to come to you. "

He tendered Robert a one-dollar bill and twenty-five cents. 

After Robert went home Mr. Sands searched his brain in trying to guesswhere he could have obtained his gold, but the more he thought thedarker and more mysterious it seemed. While in this state of perplexityJohn Trafton entered the store. 

He had seen Robert going out with two large parcels, and he came in tolearn what he could about them. 

"How d'ye do, Sands?" he said. "Has Bob been in here?"

"Yes. "

"Did he buy anything?"

"Two pounds of tea and half a dozen pounds of flour. Seems to haveconsiderable money. "

"Does he?" inquired Trafton eagerly. 

"I thought you knew. Why, he paid me in gold!"

"In gold?" ejaculated Trafton. 

"To be sure! He give me a two-and-a-half gold piece, and that wasn'tall. He dropped a ten-dollar gold piece by accident, but picked it rightup. "

"You don't mean it?" said the fisherman, astounded. 

"Yes, I do. But I s'posed you knew all about it. "

"I only know what you've told me. The fact is that boy hasn't a spark ofgratitude. It seems he's rolling in wealth and leaves me to get along asI can. "

"Nephews ain't generally expected to provide for their uncles, " saidAbner Sands dryly. 

But John Trafton did not hear him. As he left the store an idea enteredhis mind. He knew that Robert had found a friend in the hermit, and hedecided that the gold came from him. 

If that was the case, the hermit must be rich. Who knows but he mighthave thousands of dollars in the cave? The fisherman's eyes sparkledwith greed and he was assailed by a powerful temptation. His credit atthe tavern was about exhausted. What a pity he could not get some of thegold, which appeared to do its possessor so little good!

CHAPTER XVII

JOHN TRAFTON'S NEW PLAN

With the new but unlawful purpose which he had begun to entertain JohnTrafton resolved to find out all he could about the hermit, and herightly judged that Robert could give him more information than anybodyelse. 

He decided to go home early and question his nephew cautiously. If hecould find out something about the hermit's habits and peculiarities itwould help him in his plan, for there was no beating about the bushnow. 

He acknowledged to himself that he meant to enter the cave, and if hecould only find the gold, which he was persuaded the occupant owned inlarge quantities, to enrich himself at his expense. 

His imagination was dazzled at the prospect. All his life he had beenworking for a bare living. Probably, in his most prosperous year, notover three hundred dollars in money had come into his hands as therecompense of his toil. 

Probably there are few people who do not, at some time, indulge indreams of sudden wealth. This time had come to John Trafton, and, unfortunately, the temptation which came with it was so powerful as toconfuse his notions of right and wrong and almost to persuade him thatthere was nothing very much out of the way in robbing the recluse of hishoards. 

"It don't do him any good, " argued the fisherman, "while it would makeme comfortable for life. If I had ten thousand dollars, or even five, I'd go away from here and live like a gentleman. My wife should berigged out from top to toe, and we'd jest settle down and take thingseasy. "

John Trafton was not very strict in his principles, and his consciencedid not trouble him much. Even if it had, the dazzling picture which hisfancy painted of an easy and luxurious future would probably havecarried the day. 

It was only eight o'clock in the evening when the fisherman lifted thelatch of the outer door and entered the cabin. 

His wife and Robert looked up in surprise, for it was about two hoursearlier than he generally made his appearance. 

Another surprise--his gait and general appearance showed that he wasquite sober. This was gratifying, even if it was the result of hiscredit being exhausted. 

During the preceding week it may be mentioned that he had worked moresteadily than usual, having made several trips in his boat, and had thusbeen enabled to pay something on his score at the tavern. 

John Trafton sat down before the fire. 

His wife was mending stockings by the light of a candle which burned onthe table at her side and Robert was absorbed by the fascinating pagesof Scott's "Rob Roy. "

A side glance showed the fisherman how his nephew was employed, and, rightly judging where the book came from, he seized upon it as likely tolead to the questions he wanted to ask. 

"What book have you got there, Bob?" he inquired. 

"It Is a story by Sir Walter Scott, uncle. "

"Never heard of him. Does he live in Boston?" asked Trafton. 

"No, he was a Scotchman. "

"Some Scotchmen are pretty smart, I've heard tell. "

"Scott was a wonderful genius, " said Robert, glowing with enthusiasm. 

"I dare say he was, " said the fisherman placidly. "Where did you get thebook?"

"I borrowed it of the hermit. "

This was the name which Robert used, for even now he had no knowledge ofhis mysterious friend's name. 

"Has he got many books?"

"A whole bookcase full. "

"He must be a rich man, " suggested John Trafton with apparentcarelessness. 

"I think he is, " said Robert, wondering a little at his uncle's newborninterest in his new acquaintance, but suspecting nothing of his designin asking the question. 

"It stands to reason he must be, " continued the fisherman. "He doesn'tdo anything for a living. "

"No. "

"Then, of course, he's got enough to live on. "

"Besides, all his furniture is very nice, " cried Robert, falling intothe trap. "He seems not to mind money and talks as if he was always usedto it. "

"I s'pose he pays you for running of errands for him, " said Trafton. 

"Yes, " answered Robert reluctantly, for he feared that his uncle wouldask to have the money transferred to him. But the next words of Traftonreassured him. 

"That's all right, " he said. "You can spend the money as you please. Idon't ask you for any of it. "

"Thank you, uncle, " said Robert warmly. 

Mrs. Trafton regarded her husband in surprise. He was appearing in acharacter new to her. What could his sudden unselfishness mean?

"I only asked because I didn't want you to work for nothing, Bob, " saidhis uncle, not wishing it to appear that he had any other motive, as hisplan must, of course, be kept secret from all. 

"I wouldn't mind working for nothing, uncle. It would be small pay forhis saving my life, " Robert said with perfect sincerity. 

"He wouldn't want you to do it--a rich man like him, " returned thefisherman complacently. "It's the only money he has to spend, exceptwhat he pays for victuals. I'm glad you've fallen in with him. You mightas well get the benefit of his money as anybody. "

"Uncle seems to think I only think of money, " Robert said to himselfwith some annoyance. "I begin to like the hermit. He is very kind tome. "

He did not give utterance to this thought, rightly deeming that it wouldnot be expedient, but suffered his uncle to think as he might. 

"Does the hermit always stay at home in the evening?" asked thefisherman after a pause. 

"Sometimes he goes out in his boat late at night and rows about half thenight. I suppose he gets tired of being alone or else can't sleep. "

John Trafton nodded with an expression of satisfaction. 

This would suit his plans exactly. If he could only enter the cave inone of these absences, he would find everything easy and mightaccomplish his purpose without running any risk. 

It was clear to him now that the gold of which the trader spoke wasgiven to his nephew by the hermit. He was justified in thinking so, asthere was no other conceivable way in which Robert could have obtainedit. He coveted the ten-dollar gold piece, but he was playing for ahigher stake and could afford to let that go for the present at least. 

The fisherman lit his pipe and smoked thoughtfully. 

His wife was not partial to the odor of strong tobacco, but tobacco, shereflected, was much to be preferred to drink, and if her husband couldbe beguiled from the use of the latter by his pipe then she would gladlyendure it. 

John Trafton smoked about ten minutes in silence and then rose from hischair. 

"I guess I'll go out on the beach and have my smoke there, " he said ashe took his hat from the peg on which he had hung it on entering thecabin. 

"You're not going back to the tavern, John?" said his wife in alarm. 

"No, I've quit the tavern for to-night. I'll just go out on the beachand have my smoke there. I won't be gone very long. "

When Trafton had descended from the cliff to the beach he took thedirection of the hermit's cave. 

Of course he had been in that direction a good many times, but thenthere was nothing on his mind and he had not taken particular notice ofthe entrance or its surroundings. 

It was a calm, pleasant moonlight night and objects were visible for aconsiderable distance. Trafton walked on till he stood at the foot ofthe cliff containing the cave. There was the rude ladder leading to theentrance. It was short. It could be scaled in a few seconds, and the boxor chest of gold, in whose existence Trafton had a thorough belief, could be found. But caution must be used. Possibly the hermit might beat home, and if he were, he would, of course, be awake at that hour. Besides, the cave was dark and he had no light. 

"When I come I will bring matches and a candle, " thought the fisherman. "I can't find the gold unless I can see my way. What a fool this hermitmust be to stay in such a place when with his money he could livehandsomely in the city! But I don't find fault with him for that. It'sso much the better for me. "

He turned his eyes toward the sea, and by the light of the moon he sawthe hermit's slender skiff approaching. The old man was plainly visible, with his long gray hair floating over his shoulders as he bent to theoars. 

"He mustn't see me, " muttered the fisherman. "I had better go home. "

CHAPTER XVIII

A DESPERATE CONFLICT

About eight o'clock the next evening John Trafton sat in the barroom atthe tavern enjoying himself in the manner characteristic of the place. 

All day long his mind had been dwelling upon the plan which he had sorecently formed, and he felt a feverish desire to carry it out. 

"One bold stroke, " he said to himself, "and I am a made man. No morehard work for me. I will live like a gentleman. "

It was rather a strange idea the fisherman had--that he could live likea gentleman on the proceeds of a burglary--but there are many who, likehim, consider that nothing is needed but money to make a gentleman. 

That very night John Trafton decided to make the attempt, ifcircumstances seemed favorable. He shrank from it as the time approachedand felt that he needed some artificial courage. For this reason hevisited the tavern and patronized the bar more liberally than usual. 

Trafton had prudently resolved to keep his design entirely secret andnot to drop even a hint calculated to throw suspicion upon him after theevent. 

But there is an old proverb that when the wine is in the wit is out, and, though the fisherman indulged in whisky rather than wine, thesaying will apply just as well to the one as to the other. 

Among the company present in the barroom was one man who had been in thevillage a day or two, but was a stranger to all present. 

He was a short, powerfully made man, roughly dressed, with a low browand quick, furtive eyes that had a look of suspicion in them. 

He had naturally found his way to the tavern bar and proved himself aliberal patron of the establishment. Therefore the landlord--though hedid not fancy the looks of his new guest--treated him with politeness. 

Somehow the conversation on that particular evening drifted to theprobable wealth of city people who made their homes at Cook's Harborduring the summer. It was afterward remembered that the roughly dressedstranger had introduced the subject in a casual way. 

"It's my opinion, " said Ben Barton, "that Mr. Irving is our richestman. "

"What makes you think so, Ben?" asked the landlord. 

"The way he lives partly. He's got everything that money can buy. Besides, I heard his boy say that his father's watch cost him fivehundred dollars. Now, it stands to reason that a man don't wear a watchlike that unless he's got the money to back it. "

"There's something in that, " the landlord admitted. 

The stranger seemed interested. 

"Does this Irving stay down here himself?" he asked. 

"No, he only comes down Saturday to stay over Sunday. "

"Does he have much silver in the house?"

"I don't know. Why?" inquired Ben Barton, turning a surprised look uponthe stranger. 

"Because a real, tiptop rich man generally has plenty of plate, "answered the man after a pause. 

"I guess he doesn't keep it down here, " said Barton. "It's likely he'sgot plenty in the city. "

The stranger shrugged his shoulders. 

"Does his wife wear diamonds?" he asked. 

"Not down here. There wouldn't be any occasion. "

"Does he get his groceries here or in the city?"

"He sends them down here by express. "

The stranger seemed to lose all interest in the Irving family. 

Two or three summer residents were mentioned who were supposed to berich, but it did not appear that any of them kept valuables at theirsummer homes. 

John Trafton had not taken any part in the conversation hitherto, and ifhe had been prudent he would have continued to remain silent, but a manexcited by drink is not likely to be discreet. 

He broke silence when there came a lull in the discussion. 

"There's one man you haven't mentioned, " he said, "who keeps more moneyon hand than Mr. Irving or any one else you have spoken of. "

"A man in the village here?" asked the landlord. 

"He means you, Mr. Jones, " said Ben Barton jocosely. "Ain't we all of usbringing you money every day? You ought to have a pile by this time. "

"So I might if all that were owing me would pay up, " retorted thelandlord. 

As Ben was one of his debtors, this was felt to be a fair hit, and therewas a laugh at his expense. 

"P'r'aps Trafton means himself, " suggested Ben by way of diversion. 

"I wish I did, " said the fisherman. "Well, I may be rich some time;stranger things have happened. "

"I can't think of any stranger thing than that, " said Ben. 

And the laugh now was at Trafton's expense, but he didn't seem to mindit. 

By this time the general curiosity was aroused. 

"Who is this rich man you're talkin' about, Trafton?" asked SamCummings. 

"The hermit of the cliff, " answered the fisherman. 

There was a general rustle of surprise. 

"What reason have you for saying that?" asked Mr. Jones, the landlord. 

By this time, however, John Trafton began to suspects that he had beenimprudent and he answered with a mysterious shake of the head:

"I've no call to tell you that, but I've got my reasons. "

"Can't you tell us, John?" asked Ben Barton. 

"I might, but I won't; but I stand by what I've said. "

"Doesn't your boy do errands for the hermit?" asked the landlord. 

"Suppose he does?"

"And he goes into the hermit's cave?"

"Perhaps he does and perhaps he doesn't. "

"I know he does, for I was on the beach a day or two ago and I see hima-climbin' the ladder and goin' in, " said Ben Barton. 

"You'll have to ask him about that, " said the fisherman. 

"Whereabouts is his cave?" asked the stranger, who had listened intentlyto what had been said. 

One of the party described its location fully. 

"Then I've seen it, " said the other. "I was walking on the beach thismorning and I wondered what the ladder was for. "

He asked various questions about the hermit and his mode of life, whichexcited no wonder, as the curiosity about the hermit was shared by all. 

John Trafton allowed himself to say one thing more that increased thisfeeling. 

"I won't tell all I know, " he said, "but I can tell you this hermitlives like a prince. He's got handsomer furniture than there is in anyhouse in Cook's Harbor. "

No one had told the fisherman this, but he knew the statement would makea sensation and chose to embellish what he had heard from Robert. 

"That's a strange idea to furnish a cave that way, " said the stranger. 

"It may be strange, but it's true. "

"Do you think he keeps a good deal of money by him?" asked the strangerwith evident interest. 

John Trafton nodded significantly. 

The conversation now drifted into other channels. The stranger orderedanother glass of whisky and went out. 

"Where is that man staying?" asked Cummings. 

"Not here, " answered the landlord. "I don't like his looks and don'tcare where he stays as long as he don't ask for a room here. "

"You don't mind selling him drink, landlord?"

"Not as long as he's got money to pay. That's a different matter. "

A few minutes later John Trafton left the tavern. 

He had drunk considerable, but not enough to make him incapable ofaction. The drink excited him and nerved him for the task he had inview, for upon this very evening he had decided to force an entranceinto the hermit's mysterious residence, and he hoped to be well paid forhis visit. 

He had to pass his own cabin on the way. He glanced toward it and saw alight shining through the window, but he took care to keep far enoughaway so that he might not be seen. 

Half a mile farther and he stood opposite the cavern. There was theladder making access to the cave easy. He looked for the hermit's boat, which was usually kept fastened near the entrance to the cave, and tohis joy he saw that it was missing. 

"The old man must be out in his boat, " he said to himself. "All thebetter for me! If I am quick, I may get through before he gets back. "

With a confident step he ascended the ladder and entered what might becalled the vestibule of the cave. 

He halted there to light the candle he had brought with him. He wasbending over, striking the match against his foot, when he was attackedfrom behind and almost stunned by a very heavy blow. 

He recovered himself sufficiently to grasp his assailant, and in aninstant the two were grappling in fierce conflict. 

"I never thought the old man was so strong, " passed through thefisherman's mind as he found himself compelled to use his utmoststrength against his opponent. 

CHAPTER XIX

A TRAGEDY ON THE BEACH

It is hardly necessary to say that the man with whom the fisherman wasengaged in deadly conflict was not the hermit. It was the stranger who, in the tavern, had manifested so much curiosity on the subject of therich residents of Cook's Harbor. 

He was a desperado from New York, who, being too well known to thepolice of that city, had found it expedient to seek a new field, wherehe would not excite suspicion. 

He had arrived at the cave only a few minutes before the fisherman andhad already explored the inner room in search of the large sum of moneywhich Trafton had given him to understand the hermit kept on hand. 

He had no candle, but he found a lamp and lighted it. 

He was in the midst of his search when he heard the entrance of thefisherman. He concluded, very naturally, that it was the hermit, and heprepared himself for an attack. 

He instantly extinguished the lamp and stole out into the vestibule. Itwas his first thought to glide by the supposed hermit and escape, butthis would cut him off from securing the booty of which he was inquest. 

He resolved upon a bolder course. He grappled with the newcomer, confident of easily overcoming a feeble old man, but, to hisdisagreeable surprise, he encountered a vigorous resistance far beyondwhat he anticipated. 

Neither of the two uttered a word, but silently the fierce conflictcontinued. 

"I must be weak if I cannot handle an old man, " thought the professionalburglar, and he increased his efforts. 

"If he masters me and finds out who I am, I am lost!" thought JohnTrafton; and he, too, put forth his utmost strength. 

The fisherman had the disadvantage in one respect. He was wholly unarmedand his opponent had a knife. 

When he found that Trafton--who was of muscular build--was likely togain the advantage, with a muttered oath he drew his knife and plungedit into his opponent's breast. 

They were struggling just on the verge of the precipice, and Trafton, when he felt the blow, tottered and fell, his antagonist with him. 

"The old fool's dead, and I must fly, " thought the burglar. 

With hasty step he fled along the sands till he came to a point where hecould easily scale the cliff. Reaching the top, he walked quickly awayfrom Cook's Harbor. 

Half an hour later the hermit beached his boat, fastened it andproceeded to his quarters. He was plunged in thought and observednothing till he stumbled against the fisherman's body. 

"Some drunken fellow probably, " he said to himself. 

He lit a match, and, bending over, was horror-stricken to see the fixedfeatures and the blood upon the garments of the unfortunate fisherman. 

"There has been murder here! Who can it be?" he exclaimed. 

He lit another match and took a closer look. 

"As I live, it is Trafton, Robert's uncle!" he cried. "What mystery ishere? How did the unhappy man come to his death?"

He was not long left to wonder alone, for Robert, as was not unusualwith him, had been taking an evening stroll on the beach, and, seeinghis employer, came up to speak to him. 

"Good evening, sir, " he said, as yet innocent of the sad knowledge whichwas soon to be his. "Is anything the matter?"

"Robert, " said the hermit solemnly, "prepare yourself for a terriblesurprise. A man has been killed and that man is----"

"My uncle!" exclaimed our hero in dismay. 

"Yes, it is he!"

"How did it happen, sir?" asked Robert, a frightful suspicion enteringhis mind. 

"I know no better than you, my boy. I have just arrived from an eveningtrip on the water. I was about to enter my quarters when I stumbled overyour uncle's body. "

"What could have brought him here?"

"I cannot tell, nor can I conjecture who killed him. "

"It can't be he, " thought Robert, dismissing his fleeting suspicion. "What shall I do, sir?" he asked, unprepared, with his boyishinexperience, to decide what to do under such terrible circumstances. 

"Go and summon some of your neighbors to carry the poor man to his home. Meanwhile break the news to your aunt as you best can, " said the hermitin a tone of quiet decision. 

"But should I not call the doctor?"

"It will be of no avail. Your uncle is past the help of any physician. Go, and I will stay here till you return. "

The startling news which Robert brought to the fishermen served to bringmen, women and children to the spot where John Trafton lay, ghastly withblood. 

Well known as he was, the sight startled and agitated them, and, intheir ignorance of the real murderer, suspicion fastened upon thehermit, who, tall and dignified, with his white hair falling upon hisshoulders, stood among them like a being from another world. 

Trafton's habits were well known, but the manner of his death enlistedpublic sympathy. 

"Poor John!" said Tom Scott. "I've known him, man and boy, for a'mostfifty years, and I never thought to see him lying like this. "

"And what will you do with his murderer?" asked his wife in a shrillvoice. 

Mrs. Scott was somewhat of a virago, but she voiced the popular thought, and all looked to Scott for an expression of feeling. 

"He ought to be strung up when he's found, " said Scott. 

"You won't have to look far for him, I'm thinkin', " said Mrs. Scott. 

"What do you mean, wife?" asked Scott, who was not of a suspiciousturn. 

"There he stands!" said the virago, pointing with her extended finger tothe hermit. 

As this was a thought which had come to others, hostile eyes looked uponthe hermit, and two or three moved forward as if to seize him. 

The old man regarded the fishermen with surprise and said with dignity:

"My friends, what manner of man do you think I am that you suspect me ofsuch a deed?"

"There's no one could have done it but you, " said a young man doggedly. "Here lies Trafton at the foot of your ladder, with no one near him butyou. You was found with him. It's a clear case. "

"To be sure!" exclaimed two or three of the women. "Didn't Robert findyou here, standin' by the dead body of his uncle?"

The hermit turned to our hero, who stood a little in the background, andsaid quietly:

"Robert, do you think I killed your uncle?"

"I am sure you didn't, " said Robert, manfully meeting the angry glanceswhich were now cast upon him. 

"I am glad to have one friend here, " said the hermit--"one who judges mebetter than the rest of my neighbors. "

"He doesn't know anything about you and he's only a boy!" said Mrs. Scott, thrusting herself forward with arms akimbo. "I allus said therewas something wrong about you or you wouldn't hide yourself away fromthe sight of men in a cave. Like as not you've committed murderbefore!"

"My good woman, " said the hermit with a sad smile, "I am sorry you haveso poor an opinion of me. "

"Don't you call me good woman!" said Mrs. Scott, provoked. "I'm no morea good woman than yourself! I tell you, friends and neighbors, you'll dowrong if you let this man go. We may all be murdered in our beds!"

She was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs. Trafton, who had not beenapprised of the tragedy from considerations for her feelings, buthearing the stir and excitement, had followed her neighbors to the spotand just ascertain what had happened. 

"Where is my husband?" she cried. 

All made way for her, feeling that hers was the foremost place, and shestood with startled gaze before her dead husband. Ill as he had providedfor her and unworthy of her affections as he had proved, at that momentshe forgot all but that the husband of her youth lay before her, bereftof life, and she kneeled, sobbing, at his side. 

The hermit took off his hat and stood reverently by her side. 

"Oh, John!" she sobbed, "I never thought it would come to this! Whocould have had the heart to kill you?"

"That's the man! He murdered him!" said Mrs. Scott harshly, pointing tothe hermit. 

The widow lifted her eyes to the man of whom she had heard so much fromRobert with a glance of incredulity. 

He was too proud to defend himself from the coarse accusation andreturned her look with a glance of sympathy and compassion. 

"I never can believe that!" said the widow in utter incredulity. "He hasbeen kind to my boy. He never would lift his hand against my husband!"

The hermit looked deeply gratified. 

"Mrs. Trafton, " he said, "you are right. I had no cause to harm yourhusband, nor would I have killed him for Robert's sake, whatever wronghe might have done me. But, in truth, I know of no reason why I shouldseek to injure him. "

"If you are an innocent man, " persisted Mrs. Scott, "tell us who you areand what brought you here. "

"Yes, tell us who you are!" echoed two others who had always feltcurious about the hermit. 

"I do not choose to declare myself now, " said the hermit gravely. "Thetime may come when I shall do so, but not now. "

"That's because you're a thief or murderer!" exclaimed Mrs. Scott, exasperated. 

"Wife, you're goin' too far!" said her husband. 

"Mind your own business, Tom Scott!" retorted his wife in a tone withwhich he was only too familiar. "You ought to be ashamed of yourselftryin' to screen the murderer of your next-door neighbor. "

"I am doing nothing of the kind. There's no proof that the hermit of thecliff murdered John Trafton. "

"You must be a fool if you can't see it, " said Mrs. Scott. 

Robert Coverdale was shocked to hear his friend so abused and he saidboldly:

"Mrs. Scott, I don't know who murdered my poor uncle, but I know thehermit did not. He has been a good friend to me, and he is nomurderer. "

"Go home and go to bed, boy!" said Mrs. Scott violently. "You take thatman's part against your poor uncle. "

Robert was provoked and answered with energy:

"I would sooner suspect you than him. I never heard the hermit say aword against my uncle, while only yesterday you called him a drunkenvagabond. "

This so turned the tables on Mrs. Scott that she was unable to return tothe attack. 

"Well, if I ever!" she ejaculated. "Tom Scott, are you goin' to see yourwife sassed by a boy?"

"It seems to me, wife, that the boy is in the right in this instance, "answered Tom, who had a sense of justice. 

"So you turn against your lawful wife, do you?" exclaimed Mrs. Scottviolently. "I'll come up with you yet. See if I don't. "

Tom Scott shrugged his shoulders with resignation. 

"I've no doubt you will, " he answered with a half smile. 

"My friends, " said the hermit with calm dignity, "as it appears thatsome of you suspect me of this dastardly deed, I am quite willing tosubmit to any restraint you may desire till the groundlessness of thecharge appears. You may leave a guard here in the cave or I willaccompany you to any of your own houses. I certainly have no desire toescape while such suspicions are entertained. "

Robert indignantly protested against such a step, but the hermit stayedhis words. 

"Robert, " he said, "it is better. It will do me no harm, and, under thecircumstances, while the matter is involved in mystery, I admit that itis perfectly justifiable and proper. My friends, I am in your hands. What will you do with me?"

Mrs. Scott expressed her opinion that he should be strung upimmediately, but no one seconded her. 

It was decided that two of the fishermen should remain at the cave thatnight to prevent any attempt at escape on the part of the hermit. 

The body of the murdered fisherman was carried to his own cabin andproperly cared for till the coroner, who must be brought from aneighboring town, should make his appearance. 

CHAPTER XX

MR. JONES MAKES A CALL

When morning dawned a new face was put upon the matter. Steps werediscovered leading from the scene of the murder along the beach and upthe cliff. There were also discovered signs of a struggle in the cave, and it became clear that there had been a conflict and that one of thetwo concerned had escaped. 

Of course it could not have been the hermit, for he was now in custody. Moreover, a fisherman who had been out in his boat in the eveningremembered meeting the hermit rowing at about the time the murder musthave been committed. 

These discoveries cleared the hermit, but the question arose:

"Who was this other man?" There was no difficulty in solving thisquestion. There were plenty who remembered the stranger who had spent apart of the previous evening in the barroom of the tavern, and hisevident curiosity as to the wealth of the hermit was also remembered. 

The real state of the case was now pretty well understood. This strangerhad suddenly resolved to rob the hermit and had secretly found his wayto the cavern. 

But how did he happen to find the fisherman there and what was theobject of the latter?

Then it was remembered that Trafton also had seemed much interested inthe supposed hoards of the hermit, and, when his own want of money wasconsidered, it was suspected that he, too, went on an errand similar tothe burglar. 

But he was dead, and his neighbors, who knew that he must have yieldedto the force of a sudden and new temptation, did not care to speculateupon his object. 

They were disposed to spare their old neighbor and charitably drop aveil over his attempted crime, which had brought upon him such fearfulretribution. 

Of course the hermit was released from custody, and there was not aperson in the village who did not acquit him of all wrong except Mrs. Scott, who could not forgive him for proving her suspicions groundless. 

"You may say what you will, " she said perversely, "I know the man's aburglar, or a murderer, or something else bad. "

"He couldn't have murdered John Trafton, for we traced the murderer'ssteps on the beach. There is no doubt it was that stranger we saw in thebarroom. "

So said her husband. 

"I don't care whether he murdered John Trafton or not, " said Mrs. Scott. "I'm sure he's murdered somebody, and I'm ready to take my Bible oath ofit. "

"What makes you so prejudiced against the poor man? He hasn't done youany harm, Mrs. Scott. "

"I don't like the airs he puts on. He looks at you jest as if you weredust beneath his feet. What right has he to look down upon honestpeople, I want to know?"

But Mrs. Scott did not succeed in creating a prejudice against thehermit, whose courageous and dignified bearing had impressed all whoobserved his manner in this trying crisis. 

When the funeral was over the hermit called in the evening upon thewidow of John Trafton. It was the first he had ever made upon any of hisneighbors and it excited surprise. 

Robert brought forward the rocking-chair and invited the visitorcordially to sit down. 

"Mrs. Trafton, " said the hermit, "I want to thank you and Robert for theconfidence you showed in me at a time when all others suspected me of aterrible deed. You were the ones most affected, yet you acquitted me inyour hearts. "

"Just for a moment I suspected you when I saw you standing by the deadbody of my uncle, " said Robert, "but it was only for a moment. "

"I respect you for your fearless candor, my boy. You were justified inyour momentary suspicion. "

"I am ashamed of it. You had been such a kind friend. "

"It was only natural. And now, my friends, what are your plans? How willyou be able to maintain yourselves?"

"I don't think it will make much difference, " began Roberthesitatingly. 

"My husband did very little for our support, " said Mrs. Trafton. "Notmore, certainly, than his own food amounted to. You know, sir, I thinkRobert must have told you the unfortunate habits of my poor husband. Hewas enslaved by drink, and he spent nearly all he earned in thebarroom. "

"Yes, I knew what your husband's habits were, " said the hermit gently. "It is a great pity he could not have lived to change them. "

"I am afraid he never would, " said the widow. 

"They had grown upon him from year to year, and he seemed to get weakerand weaker in purpose. "

"I had a brother who was equally unfortunate, " said the hermit. "Thereare few families who are wholly free from the evils of intemperance. Buthave you formed any plans?"

"I suppose we can get along as we have, " answered Mrs. Trafton. "Withwhat you kindly pay Robert, and what he can pick up elsewhere, and thesewing I do, I think we can get along. "

"Do you own this cottage?" inquired the hermit. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Then you will have no rent to pay. "

"No, I don't know how we could do that. "

The hermit looked thoughtful. 

"I will see you again, " he said as he rose to go. 

On the whole, Mrs. Trafton and Robert were likely to get along as wellas before John Trafton's death. Robert could use his uncle's boat forfishing, selling what they did not require, while regularly every weektwo dollars came in from the hermit. 

It was a great source of relief that no rent must be paid. Thefisherman's cabin and lot originally cost about five hundred dollars andthe household furniture was of little value. The taxes were small andcould easily be met. So there seemed nothing to prevent their living onin the same way as before. 

Some time Robert hoped and expected to leave Cook's Harbor. He was asmart, enterprising, ambitious boy, and he felt that he would like amore stirring life in a larger place. 

He was not ashamed of the fisherman's business, but he felt qualifiedfor something better. It did not escape his notice that most of hisneighbors were illiterate men, who had scarcely a thought beyond thesuccess of their fishing trips, and he had already entered so far intothe domain of study and books as to feel the charm of another world--thegreat world of knowledge--which lay spread out before him and beckonedhim onward. But he was not impatient. 

"My duty at present, " he reflected, "Is to stay in Cook's Harbor andtake care of my aunt. I am young and strong, and I don't mean that sheshall want for any comforts which I can get for her. "

He soon learned, however, that there was one great mistake in hiscalculations. 

Robert was sitting by the door reading, after his return from a fishingtrip, about a week after his uncle's funeral, when he heard the steps ofsome one approaching. 

Looking up, he saw advancing toward their humble residence the stout, ponderous figure of Nahum Jones, the landlord of the village inn. 

It was not often that Mr. Jones found his way to the beach. Usually hekept close to the tavern, unless he rode to some neighboring town. Therefore Robert was surprised to see him. 

Nahum Jones nodded slightly, and, taking off his straw hat, wiped theperspiration from his forehead. 

"Here, you, Bob, " he said, "Is your aunt at home?"

"Yes, sir!" answered Robert, but not cordially, for he felt that Mr. Jones had been no friend of his uncle. 

"Well, tell her I've come to have a talk with her, do you hear?"

"Yes, I hear, " answered the boy coolly. 

He rose from his chair and entered the house. 

"Aunt Jane, " he said, "here is Mr. Jones come to see you. "

"What? The tavern keeper?" asked his aunt in great surprise. 

"Yes, aunt. "

"What can that man want of me?"

The question was answered, not by Robert but by Nahum Jones himself. 

"I want to have a little talk with you, ma'am, " said the burly landlord, entering without an invitation and seating himself unceremoniously. 

"I will listen to what you have to say, Mr. Jones, " said the widow, "butI will not pretend that I am glad to see you. You were an enemy to mypoor husband. "

"I don't know what you mean, Mrs. Trafton. Did he ever tell you that Iwas his enemy?"

"No, but it was you who sold him liquor and took the money which heshould have spent on his own family. "

"All nonsense, ma'am. You women are the most unreasonable creatures. Ididn't ask him to drink. "

"You tempted him to do it. "

"I deny it!" said the landlord warmly. "I couldn't refuse to sell himwhat he asked for, could I? You must be a fool to talk so!" said thelandlord roughly. 

"I'll trouble you to speak respectfully to my aunt, Mr. Jones, " saidRobert with flashing eyes. 

"Mind your own business, you young rascal!" said Nahum Jones, whosetemper was not of the best. 

"I mean to, " retorted Robert. "My business is to protect my aunt frombeing insulted. "

"Wait till you're a little bigger, boy, " said Jones with a sneer. 

Robert involuntarily doubled up his fist and answered:

"I mean to protect her now. "

"Mrs. Trafton, " said Nahum Jones, highly irritated, "you'd bettersilence that young cub or I may kick him out of doors!"

"You appear to forget that you are not in your own house, Nahum Jones, "said the widow with dignity. "My nephew has acted perfectly right andonly spoke as he should. "

"So you sustain him in his impudence, do you?" snarled Jones, showinghis teeth. 

"If that is all you have come to say to me, Mr. Jones, you may as wellgo. "

"By George, ma'am, you are mighty independent!"

"I am not dependent on the man who ruined my poor husband. "

"No, but you're dependent on me!" exclaimed the landlord, pounding thefloor forcibly with his cane. 

"Will you explain yourself, sir?"

"I will, " said Mr. Jones emphatically. "You talk about my not being inmy own house, but it's just possible you are mistaken. "

"What do you mean?" asked Mrs. Trafton, startled. 

"I mean this, that I hold a mortgage on this house for two hundreddollars, and that's as much as it will fetch at auction. What do you sayto that?"

Robert looked and felt as much troubled as his aunt. On his youngshoulders fell this new burden, and he was at an utter loss what couldbe done. 

"I thought I'd shut you up, you young cub!" said the landlord, glancingmaliciously at Robert. 

"You haven't shut me up!" retorted Robert with spirit. 

"What have you got to say, hey?"

"That you ought to be ashamed to take all my uncle's earnings and thensteal his home. That's what I've got to say!"

"I've a great mind to give you a caning, " said Mr. Jones in a rage. 

"You'd better not!" said Robert. 

He was as tall as the landlord, and though not as strong, considerablymore active, and he did not feel in the least frightened. 

Nahum Jones was of a choleric disposition, and his face was purple withrage, but he hadn't yet said all he intended. 

"I give you warning, Mrs. Trafton, " he said, shaking his cane at ourhero, "that I'm going to foreclose this mortgage and turn you into thestreet. You've got yourself to thank, you and this young rascal. I camehere thinking I'd be easy with you, but I don't mean to stand yourinsulting talk. I'll give you four weeks to raise the money, and if youdon't do it, out you go, bag and baggage. Perhaps when you're in thepoorhouse you may be sorry you didn't treat me better. "

"Oh, Robert, what shall we do?" asked the poor woman, her couragefailing as she reflected on the possibility that the landlord'sprediction might be fulfilled. 

"Don't be alarmed, Aunt Jane; I'll take care of you, " said Robert morecheerfully than he felt. 

"Oh, you will, will you?" sneered Mr. Jones. "Anybody'd think to hearyou that you were worth a pile of money. If your aunt depends on you tokeep her out of the poorhouse, I would not give much for her chance. "

"You won't have the satisfaction of seeing either of us there, " saidRobert defiantly. 

"You needn't expect my wife to give you any more sewing, " said Mr. Jones, scowling at the widow. 

"I don't think my aunt wants any, considering she hasn't been paid forthe last work she did, " said Robert. 

"What do you mean by that? I credited your uncle with twenty-five centson his score. "

"Without my aunt's consent. "

Mr. Jones was so incensed at the defiant mien of the boy that he rockedviolently to and fro--so violently that the chair, whose rockers wereshort, tipped over backward and the wrathful landlord rolledignominiously on the floor. 

"Here's you hat, Mr. Jones, " said Robert, smiling in spite of himself ashe picked it up and restored it to the mortified visitor. 

"You'll hear from me!" roared the landlord furiously, aiming a blow atRobert and leaving the room precipitately. "You'll repent this day, seeif you don't!"

After he had left the room Robert and his aunt looked at each othergravely. They had made an enemy out of a man who could turn them out ofdoors. 

The future looked far from bright. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE HERMIT'S SECRET

Mr. Jones, in his anger at Robert, regretted that he must wait fourweeks before he could turn him and his aunt out of the house. It wouldbe a great satisfaction to him to see the boy without a roof to shelterhim, reduced to becoming a tramp or to take refuge in the poorhouse. 

"By George, I'll humble the young beggar's pride!" exclaimed Mr. Jonesas he hastened homeward from his unsatisfactory interview. 

It must be admitted that Robert had not been exactly respectful, but, onthe other hand, it is quite certain that the landlord had been rude andrough in manner and speech. 

Why, then, did not Mr. Jones foreclose the mortgage instantly andgratify his resentment? Because in the instrument there was a provisorequiring a notice of four weeks. 

However, he felt that it would make little difference. 

"They can't raise the money in four weeks, " he reflected. "There'snobody round here who will lend them the money, and they don't knowanybody anywhere else. "

So, on the whole, he was satisfied. Four weeks would soon pass, and thenhis thirst for revenge would be sated. 

"What makes you so sober, my boy?" asked the hermit when Robert made hisregular call upon him the next day. 

"I feel anxious, " answered the boy. 

"But why need you? You told me your uncle did very little for thefamily. I think you will be able to take care of your aunt. If not, Iwill help you more. "

"Thank you, sir; you are very kind. But we thought when you called theother day that we owned the house and would have no rent to pay. "

"Were you mistaken about this?" asked the hermit quickly. 

"It seems so. Mr. Jones, the tavern keeper, has a mortgage on theproperty and threatens to foreclose in four weeks unless the money ispaid. Of course, we can't pay him, and I suppose we shall be turnedout. "

"How large is this mortgage?"

"Two hundred dollars. "

"That is not a very great sum. "

"It is very large to us. You know how poor we are. "

"But have you no friend who will lend you the money?"

"No, sir. "

"Are you sure of that?" asked the hermit with a peculiar smile, whichinspired new hope in Robert. Then, without waiting for a reply, the mancontinued:

"If you are willing, I will pay this mortgage when the time comes, and Iwill be your creditor instead of Mr. Jones. "

"How can I thank you?" exclaimed Robert joyfully. "My aunt will bedelighted. "

"Tell her then, but no one else. It will give Mr. Jones a surprise. "

"It won't be a pleasant one. He was very rude and impolite and said hehoped to see us in the poorhouse. "

"I don't believe you will ever go there, Robert, " said the hermit, looking earnestly at the strong, energetic face of the boy before him. 

"No, sir, I don't believe we will. But you are doing a great deal forus, sir. How can I ever repay you? If there was anything I could do foryou I should be glad. "

"Perhaps you can, " said the hermit in a musing tone. 

"Let me know what it is, sir, and I'll be glad to do it. "

"Have you ever wondered, " asked the hermit abruptly, "why I have leftthe haunts of men and retired to this out-of-the-way spot?"

"Yes, sir. I have thought of that often. "

"Your curiosity is natural. I am not a poor man--in fact I should becalled rich. Poverty and pecuniary troubles, therefore, have nothing todo with my strange act--as the world considers it. In my life there havebeen two tragedies. I was married, at the age of thirty, to a verybeautiful young lady, whom I tenderly loved. I made my home in a city ofconsiderable size and lived as my means warranted. One evening, as mywife stood before the open grate, dressed for a party, her dress caughtfire, and before help could arrive she was fatally injured. Of coursethe blow was a terrible one. But I had a child--a boy of five--on whommy affections centered. A year later he mysteriously disappeared, andfrom that day I have never heard a word of him. When search provedunavailing, I became moody and a settled melancholy took possession ofme. I could not endure the sight of other parents happy in thepossession of children, and I doomed myself to a solitary life, wandering here and there till, two years since, I chanced to find thiscave and made my home here. "

"How old would your son be now?" asked Robert with interest. 

"About your own age--perhaps a little older. It was this and a fanciedresemblance which attracted me toward you. "

"Had you any suspicion that your son was stolen?" asked Robert. 

"Yes. In particular I suspected a cousin who would be my probable heirin case my boy died. But I could never prove anything, and the manexpressed so much sympathy that I was ashamed to avow any suspicions. But Charles Waldo was a covetous man, insatiable in his greed of moneyand absolutely cold and unsympathetic, though his manner was plausible. He hoped that this second blow would kill me, but he has beendisappointed. "

"If the boy is living, perhaps he knows where he is, " said Robert. 

"If he abducted him--yes. He would not kill him, for he is too cautiousa man and has too great fear of the law. "

"Where is Mr. Waldo now living?"

"In Ohio. He has a large farm and a moderate amount of moneyinvested--some twenty thousand dollars perhaps--so that he is able tolive at ease. He was disappointed because I would not give him thecharge of my property, but with the lingering suspicion in my mind Icould not make up my mind to do it. He also sought a loan of tenthousand dollars, which I refused. "

"How then does he expect to be your heir?" asked Robert. 

"Two-thirds of my property is entailed and must be left to him if my boyis dead. "

"If he really stole your son, he must be a wicked man, " said Robert withboyish indignation at the thought. 

"Yes, for he has wrecked two lives--mine and my boy's. "

"Have you no hope of ever again seeing your son?"

"Only a slight one. I have thought of a plan in which I need yourhelp. "

"If I can help you, sir, " said Robert heartily, "I will do so gladly. "

"I do not doubt it, Robert, " said the hermit kindly. "I will explain mymeaning. If Charles Waldo knows anything of my lost boy, he must, fromtime to time, hold communication with him, and if he is watched he maysome day reveal his hiding place. "

"Why do you not go out to where he lives and watch him?"

"It would do no good. It would only put him on his guard. I intend thisoffice for you. "

"For me?" exclaimed Robert in amazement. 

"Yes, you are young, but you have natural ability, and shrewdness. Atany rate, you are the only one I have to send. It is a desperate chance, but I shall feel better satisfied when I have tried it. "

"I will follow your instructions whenever you wish, " said Robert, hisheart beating at the prospect of seeing something of that world of whichhe had seen so little and heard so much. 

"My instructions will be few. I must trust much to your shrewdness. Youwill need to visit the town where my cousin lives to observe his habitsand any unusual visitors he may have--in fact, try to arrive at theknowledge of the secret, if there is one, connected with my boy'sdisappearance. "

"What was your son's name?"

"Julian Huet. My own name is Gilbert Huet, but this information is foryour ear alone. "

"I will not mention it, sir. "

"You need not feel anxious about leaving your aunt. I will see that herwants are provided for during your absence. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"And the mortgage shall be paid when it comes due. "

"I wish I could be here to see Mr. Jones disappointed. "

"You can hardly be back so soon. It may take you six months. The task isone that will require time. By the way, I do not wish you to mention toyour aunt the nature of your errand. Merely tell her that you aretraveling on business for me. "

"Very well, sir. How soon do you wish me to start?"

"At the beginning of next week. "

"I am afraid, sir, I have no clothes that are fit to wear, " said Robertwith hesitation. 

"You will provide yourself in Boston with a suitable outfit. You will besupplied with an ample sum of money, and I will instruct my bankers tohonor any drafts you may make. "

"You will be spending a great deal of money for me, Mr. Huet. "

"I am rich, and living as I have each year this made me richer. I willnot grudge ten, twenty, fifty thousand dollars if you find my boy orbring me a clew which will lead to his discovery. "

Robert was dazzled. It was evident that the hermit must be very rich. Hewalked home in high spirits. He was on the eve of an exciting journeyand he enjoyed the prospect. 

CHAPTER XXII

TWO PERSONS ARE SURPRISED

"Aunt, " said Robert, his face aglow with excitement, "I am going to makea journey. I hope you won't feel lonely while I am away. "

"A journey!" exclaimed Mrs. Trafton in astonishment. 

"Yes, I am going away on business for the hermit. "

"Where are you going?"

"To Boston first. "

"To Boston? Land's sake! How can a boy like you find your way round insuch a great city as Boston?"

"A boy of my age ought to be able to take care of himself. "

"Why, child, you'll lose your way! There's ever so many streets androads. I went to Boston once, and I got so puzzled I didn't know whetherI stood on my head or my heels. If there was some older person goingwith you, now----"

"Aunt, don't make a baby of me. I guess I can get along as well asanybody. "

"Well, you can try it. When will you be back?"

"When I get my business done. "

"You won't be gone over two days, I calculate. "

"I may be gone two months or more. "

"Well, I never!" exclaimed the astonished woman, staring at Robert as ifshe thought his mind was wandering. "What sort of business is it that'sgoing to take so long?"

"The hermit wants it kept secret, Aunt Jane. "

"But how am I going to get along without you?" asked his aunt in dismay. "I can't go out fishing, and the money I earn by sewing is almostnothing. "

Robert smiled, for he knew he could allay his aunt's fears. 

"The hermit will pay you five dollars a week while I am gone, and hereis the first week's pay, " he said, drawing from his pocket a bill. 

"Well, I must say your friend the hermit is a gentleman. Five dollars aweek is more than I can spend. "

"Then save a part of it if you like, aunt. "

"But what shall I do, Robert, if Mr. Jones comes upon me to pay themortgage when you arc gone?" said his aunt, with new alarm. 

"The hermit has agreed to pay off the mortgage and take one himself forthe same amount. "

"He is very kind, Robert. Don't you think that I ought to call and thankhim?"

"What! Call at the cave?"

"Yes!"

"No, aunt, " said Robert hastily. "He would not like to have you. You canwait till you see him. But mind you don't tell anybody--least of all, Mr. Jones--that you will be able to pay the mortgage. As he is so mean, we want to give him a surprise. "

"Just as you say, Robert. I am glad we'll be able to disappoint him, forhe is certainly a very mean man. Now, when do you want to start forBoston?"

"To-morrow. "

"But how am I going to get ready your shirts and socks so soon?"

"I shall not take any of them. "

"Robert Coverdale, you must be crazy. You can't wear one shirt for twomonths if you're going so long. "

"I don't expect to, aunt, " said the boy, smiling. "I am going to buy awhole outfit of new things when I get to Boston. The hermit wants meto. "

"He must be awful rich!" said the good woman, whose ideas on the subjectof wealth were limited. 

"All the better for us, Aunt Jane, as he is willing to spend some of hismoney for us. "

Mrs. Trafton was considerably excited by the prospect of Robert'sjourney, and, notwithstanding what he had said, occupied herself inwashing his clothes and making a small bundle for him to carry, butRobert declined taking them, with a smile. 

"You see, aunt, my clothes wouldn't be good enough to wear in Boston, "he said. "Just keep them till I get back. Perhaps I may need themthen. "

"I'll lay 'em away carefully, Robert. When you get a little larger Iguess you'll be able to wear some of your uncle's clothes. His best suitmight be made over for you. He hadn't had it but six years, and there'sa good deal of wear in it yet. I might cut it over myself when you'regone. "

"Better wait till I come back, aunt, " said Robert hastily. 

He knew the suit very well. It was snuff-colored and by no means a goodfit, even for his uncle, while under his aunt's unpracticed hands itwould probably look considerably worse when made over for him. 

It must be confessed that Robert's ideas were expanding and he wasrapidly growing more fastidious. He instinctively felt that he was aboutto turn a new leaf in his book of life and to enter on new scenes, inwhich he was to play a less obscure part than had been his hitherto inthe little village of Cook's Harbor. 

But no such change had come to his aunt. She still regarded Robert asthe same boy that he always had been--born to the humble career of afisherman--and she examined her husband's best suit with muchcomplacency, mentally resolving that, in spite of Robert's objection, she would devote her leisure time to making it over for him. 

"He can wear it for best for a year or two, " she thought, "and then putit on every day. I am sure it will look well on him. "

In the evening Robert went to the cave to have a farewell interview withthe hermit--or Gilbert Huet, to give him the name which was properlyhis. 

"You may write to me about once a week if you have anything to say, Robert, " said the hermit. 

"How shall I direct you, sir? Shall I use your name?"

"How am I known in the village?"

"They call you 'the hermit of the cliff. '"

"Then direct your letters to 'The Hermit of the Cliff. ' They are notlikely to go astray. "

Mr. Huet gave Robert his instructions and finally produced a roll ofbanknotes. 

"You will find two hundred dollars in this roll, Robert, " he said. "Youcan buy a wallet to keep it in when you reach Boston. "

"Two hundred dollars!" exclaimed the boy in amazement. 

"You won't find it so large a sum as you suppose when you are requiredto pay traveling expenses. You need not try to be over-economical. Iprefer that you should stop at good hotels and put on a good appearance. But I warn you to keep your mouth shut and tell your business to no one. I depend upon your discretion not to fall into the hands of knaves oradventurers. I know that I am putting unusual confidence in a boy ofyour limited experience, but I have no one else to trust, and I feelthat you may be relied upon. "

"I hope I shall not disappoint you, Mr. Huet. "

"Well, Robert, I will bid you good night and God bless you! We don'tknow what lies before us, but if you succeed, I will take care that yourcareer shall be a fortunate one. "

Robert walked slowly back to his humble home, almost wishing that thenight were over and his journey actually begun. 

There was but one way out of Cook's Harbor--that is, by land. A stageleft the village every morning for Kaneville, six miles distant, a smallstation on a road which terminated many miles away in Boston. 

The stage started at seven o'clock, so Robert was forced to get upbetimes, take an early breakfast and walk up to the tavern. 

Mr. Jones, the landlord, was standing on the piazza when Robert made hisappearance. 

He had no proprietary right in the stage line, but the driver generallystopped overnight at the tavern and the horses were kept in his stable, so that he had come to assume a certain air of proprietorship. 

As Robert was climbing up to take a seat by the driver Mr. Jones, with afrown, called out:

"Look here, you young rascal, come right down!"

"Why am I to come down, Mr. Jones?" said Robert independently. 

"Because I tell you to. We can't have any boys stealing rides. "

"Is this stage yours?" asked Robert, surveying the landlord withprovoking coolness. 

"No matter whether it is or not, " retorted Jones, red in the face. "Itell you to come down. Do you hear?"

"Yes, I hear. "

"Then you'd better come down double quick or I'll give you a taste of ahorsewhip. "

"I advise you to mind your own business, Mr. Jones, " said Robert hotly, "and not interfere with the passengers by this stage. "

"You're not a passenger, you young beggar!"

"I am a passenger--and now you'd better stop talking. "

"Have you got money to pay your fare?" asked the landlord, beginning tosuspect he had made a fool of himself. 

"When the driver calls for the fare it will be time enough to tell. "

"Luke, " said Mr. Jones to the driver, "you'd better take that boy's farenow. He wants to swindle you out of a ride. "

"You may take it out of this, " said Robert, tendering a five-dollarbill. 

"I guess we'll let it stand till we get to Kaneville, " said Luke, gathering up the reins. 

Robert darted a glance of triumph at the discomfited and bewilderedlandlord, and his journey was begun. 

The latter, on Luke's return, learned to his further surprise thatRobert had gone to Boston. On reflection, he concluded that Mrs. Traftonmust have some relatives in the city from whom they hoped to borrowenough money to raise the mortgage. 

"But he won't succeed, and in four weeks I shall turn him and his auntout of doors, " Mr. Jones complacently reflected. 

CHAPTER XXIII

AN UNPLEASANT SURPRISE

When Robert arrived in Boston he was at first bewildered by the noiseand bustle to which, in the quiet fishing village, he was quiteunaccustomed. All that he knew about the city was the names of theprincipal streets. 

It was not necessary, however, that he should go in any particulardirection. He decided, therefore, to walk along, keeping a good lookout, and, when he saw a clothing store, to go in and provide a new outfit. 

He was sensible that he was by no means dressed in city style. Hisclothes were coarse, and being cut and made by his aunt--who, though anexcellent woman, was by no means an excellent tailor--looked countrifiedand outlandish. 

The first hint Robert had of this was when two well-dressed boys, meeting him, simultaneously burst out laughing. 

Robert was sensitive, but he was by no means bashful or timid. Accordingly he stepped up to the boys and demanded with kindling eyes:

"Are you laughing at me?"

"Oh, no, of course not, " answered one of the boys, rolling his tongue inhis cheek. 

"Certainly not, my dear fellow, " said the other, winking. 

"I think you were, " said Robert firmly. "Do you see anything to laugh atin me?"

"Well, to tell the truth, " said the first boy, "we were wonderingwhether you import your clothes from Paris or London. "

"Oh, that's it, " said Robert good-humoredly, for he was aware that hisclothes were of strange cut. "My clothes were made in the country and Idon't think much of them myself. If you'd tell me where I can get somebetter ones I will buy a suit. "

The boys were not bad-hearted and were won over by Robert's good humor. 

"You're a good fellow, " said the first speaker, "and I am sorry I wasrude enough to laugh at you. There is a store where I think you can findwhat you want. "

He pointed to a clothing store. In front of which was a good display ofready-made clothing. 

"Thank you, " said Robert. 

He entered and the boys walked on. 

If Robert had been better dressed he would have received immediateattention. As it was, he looked like a poor boy in want of work and notat all like a customer. 

So, at all events, decided a dapper-looking clerk whose attention wasdrawn to the new arrival. 

"Well, boy, what do you want?" he demanded roughly, approaching Robert. 

"Civil treatment to begin with, " answered Robert with spirit. 

"If you've come for a place, we don't want any scarecrows here. "

It appears that the firm had advertised for an errand boy that verymorning, and it was naturally supposed that Robert was an applicant. 

"Are you the owner of this shop?" asked Robert coolly. 

"No, " answered the clerk, lowering his tone a little. 

"I thought so. I'll tell my business to somebody else. "

"You'd better not put on airs!" said the clerk angrily. 

"You are the one who is putting on airs, " retorted Robert. 

"What's the matter here?" asked a portly gentleman, walking up to thescene of the altercation. 

"I was telling this boy that he would not do for the place, " answeredthe clerk. 

"I believe, Mr. Turner, that you are not commissioned to make aselection, " said the gentleman. 

And Turner retired, discomfited. 

"So you want a place?" he said inquiringly to Robert. 

"No, sir, I don't. "

"Mr. Turner said you did. "

"I never told him so. "

"Here, Turner, " said the gentleman. "Why did you tell me this boy wanteda place?"

"I supposed he did. He looked like it, sir. "

"I don't want a place. I want to buy a suit of clothes, " said Robert. "If that young man hadn't treated me so rudely, I should have asked himto show me some. "

"Look here, Mr. Turner, " said the gentleman sternly, "If you have nomore sense than to insult our customers, we can dispense with yourservices. Mr. Conway, will you wait on this young man?"

Turner was mortified and slunk away, beginning to understand that it isnot always safe to judge a man or boy by the clothes he wears. 

Mr. Conway was more of a gentleman and civilly asked Robert to followhim. 

"What kind of a suit would you like?" he added. 

"A pretty good one, " answered Robert. 

He was shown several suits and finally selected one of gray mixed clothof excellent quality. 

"That is one of our most expensive suits, " said Conway doubtfully. 

"Will it wear well?"

"It will wear like iron. "

"Then I will take it. How much will it cost?"

Conway named the price. Robert would have hesitated about paying somuch, but that he was acting under instructions from the hermit. 

"Shall we send it to you anywhere?" asked Mr. Conway, a little surprisedat Robert's readiness to pay so high a price. 

"No, I should like to put it on here. "

"You can do so--that is, after paying for it. "

Robert drew out a wallet and from his roll of bills took out sufficientto pay for the new suit. 

Mr. Conway went to the cashier's desk. The two had a conversationtogether. Then the stout gentleman was called to the desk. Robert sawthem open a copy of a morning paper and read a paragraph, looking at himafter reading it. He wondered what it all meant. 

Presently Conway came back and asked him to walk up to the desk. 

Robert did so, wonderingly. 

"You seem to have a good deal of money with you, " commenced the stoutgentleman. 

"Yes, sir, " answered Robert composedly. 

"A great deal of money for a boy dressed as you are, " continued thespeaker pointedly. 

Robert began to understand now, and he replied proudly:

"Do you generally ask your customers how much money they have?"

"No, but yours is a peculiar case. "

"The money is mine--that is, I have a right to spend it. I am actingunder orders from the gentleman who employs me. "

"Who is that?"

"No one that you would know. He lives at Cook's Harbor. But I didn'tcome in here to answer questions. If you don't want to sell me a suit ofclothes, I will go somewhere else. "

"To be plain with you, my boy, " said the stout gentleman, not unkindly, "we are afraid that you have no right to this money. The _Herald_ ofthis morning gives an account of a boy who has run away from a town inNew Hampshire with three hundred dollars belonging to a farmer. Youappear to be the age mentioned. "

"I never stole a dollar in my life, " said Robert indignantly. 

"It may be so, but I feel it a duty to put you in charge of the police, who will investigate the matter. James, call an officer. "

Robert realized that he was in an unpleasant situation. It would be hardto prove that the money in his hands was really at his disposal. 

Help came from an unexpected quarter. 

A young man, fashionably dressed, had listened to the conversation ofwhich Robert was the subject. 

He came forward promptly, saying:

"There is no occasion to suspect this boy. He is all right. "

"Do you know him?" asked the proprietor politely. 

"Yes, I know him well. He is in the employ of a gentleman at Cook'sHarbor, as he says. You can safely sell him the clothes. "

The young man spoke so positively that all suspicion was removed. 

"I am glad to learn that it is all right, " said the clothing merchant. "My young friend, I am sorry to have suspected you. We shall be glad tosell you the suit, and to recompense you for the brief inconvenience wewill take off two dollars from the price. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"It would not do for us to receive stolen money, hence our caution. "

Robert did not bear malice, and he accepted the apology and dressedhimself in the suit referred to, which very much changed his appearancefor the better. 

In fact, but for his hat and shoes, he looked like a city boy of awell-to-do family. 

He felt fortunate in getting off so well, but he was puzzled tounderstand where he could have met the young man who professed to knowhim so well. 

He left the store, but almost immediately was tapped on the shoulder bythe young man in question. 

"I got you off well, didn't I?" said the young man with a wink. 

"I am much obliged to you, sir, " said Robert. 

"You don't seem to remember me, " continued the young man, winkingagain. 

"No, sir. "

"Good reason why. I never saw you in my life before nor you me. "

"But I thought you said you had met me at Cook's Harbor?" said Robert insurprise. 

The young man laughed. 

"Only way to get you off. You'd have been marched off by a policeman ifI hadn't. "

This seemed rather irregular to our hero. Still he knew that he wasinnocent of any wrongdoing, and as the young man appeared to have actedfrom friendly motives he thanked him again. 

"That's all very well, " said the young man, "but, considering the scrapeI've saved you from, I think you ought to give me at least twenty-fivedollars. "

"But the money isn't mine, " said Robert, opening his eyes, for he couldhardly have expected an application for money from a young man sofashionably dressed. 

"Of course it isn't, " said the young man, winking again. "It belongs tothe man you took it from. I'm fairly entitled to a part. So just give metwenty-five and we'll call it square. "

"If you mean that I stole the money, you're quite mistaken, " said Robertindignantly. "It belongs to my employer. "

"Just what I thought, " said the other. 

"But I have a right to spend it. I am doing just as he told me to do. "

"Come, young fellow, that won't go down! It's too thin!" said the youngman, his countenance changing. "You don't take me in so easily. Justhand over twenty-five dollars or I'll hand you over to the police!There's one coming!"

Robert certainly did not care to have the threat executed, but he didnot choose to yield. 

"If you do, " he said, "I'll tell him that you did it because I would notgive you twenty-five dollars. "

This did not strike his new acquaintance as desirable, since it wouldbe, in effect, charging him with blackmail. Moreover, he could bringnothing tangible against our young hero. He changed his tone therefore. 

"I don't want to harm you, " he said, "but I deserve something forgetting you out of a scrape. You might spare me five dollars. "

"I got my suit two dollars cheaper through what you said, " said Robert. "I'll give you that sum. "

"Well, that will do, " said the other, finding the country boy moreunmanageable than he expected. "I ought to have more, but I will call itsquare on that. "

Robert drew a two-dollar bill from his pocket and handed it to thestranger. 

"That I can give, " he said, "because it was part of the price of mysuit. "

"All right. Good morning!" said the young man, and, thrusting the billinto his vest pocket, he walked carelessly away. 

Robert looked after him with a puzzled glance. 

"I shouldn't think a young man dressed like that could be in want ofmoney, " he reflected. "I am afraid he told a lie on my account, but Ithought at the time he had really seen me, even if I couldn't rememberhim. "

Soon Robert came to a hat store, where he exchanged his battered old hatfor one of fashionable shape, and a little later his cowhide shoes for apair of neat calfskin. He surveyed himself now with naturalsatisfaction, for he was as well dressed as his friend Herbert Irving. 

He had by this time reached Washington Street and had just passed MilkStreet when he met George Randolph, who looked as consequential andconceited as ever. 

"Good morning, George, " said Robert. 

George looked at him doubtfully. 

How could he suppose that the boy before him, dressed as well ashimself, was the poor fisher boy of Cook's Harbor?

"I don't seem to remember you, " said George civilly. 

Robert smiled. 

"You met me at Cook's Harbor, " he explained. "I am Robert Coverdale. "

"What! not the young fisherman?" ejaculated George incredulously. 

"The same. "

"You haven't come into a fortune, have you? What brings you here?"demanded the city boy in great amazement. 

"I am in the city on business. No, I haven't come into a fortune, but Iam better off than I was. Can you recommend me a good hotel?"

"I don't know about the cheap hotels. "

"I don't care for a cheap hotel. I want a good one. "

More and more surprised, George said:

"You might go to Young's. "

"I will go there. Thank you for telling me. "

"I don't understand how a boy like you can afford to go to such a hotelas that, " said George, looking very much puzzled. 

"No, I suppose not, " returned Robert, smiling. 

"If you don't mind telling me----"

"I am sorry I can't, but my errand is a secret one. 

"Did my uncle send you?"

"No, neither he nor Herbert knows of my coming. I didn't have time tosee Herbert before I came away. "

"Are you going to stay long in Boston?"

"No, I think not. I am going to New York or Albany. "

"It seems queer to me. "

"Very likely. Good-by! Thank you for directing me. "

George had been remarkably civil, but in a boy like him that is easilyexplained. He was civil, not to Robert, but to his new suit and his newprosperity. 

"It's the strangest thing I ever heard of, " he muttered as he walkedaway. "Why, the young fisherman is dressed as well as I am!"

CHAPTER XXIV

ON LONG ISLAND SOUND

Had he possessed plenty of leisure, Robert would have been glad toremain in Boston long enough to see the principal objects of interest inthe city and its vicinity, but he never for a moment forgot that histime was not his own. 

He had entered the service of the hermit, and every day's delay was somuch additional expense to his employer. True, Gilbert Huet was a richman, as he had himself acknowledged, but Robert was conscientious, andfelt that this would not justify him in gratifying himself at theexpense of the man who had so trusted him. 

Robert felt proud of this trust--this very unusual proof of confidencein a boy so young and inexperienced as he was--and he was ambitious tojustify it. I am sure, therefore, that he would have had littlesatisfaction in postponing it out of regard to his own pleasure. 

There were two ways of going to the West, which, it will be remembered, was his destination--by the way of Albany or New York City. 

Finding that it would not matter much how he went, Robert decided uponthe latter. It would enable him to see the great city of which he hadheard so much, and who knows but, in this great metropolis, whichswallows up so many, he might hear something of the lost boy?

He decided, therefore, to go at once to New York, and, after someinquiry, he fixed upon the Fall River route. 

This includes railroad travel to Fall River, a distance of about fiftymiles, where the traveler embarks on a great steamer and arrives in NewYork after a night on Long Island Sound. 

Guided by an advertisement in the daily papers, Robert made his way tothe Old State House, at the head of State Street, and, entering theoffice of the steamboat line, asked for a ticket. 

"Will you take a stateroom also?" asked the clerk. 

"Is that necessary?" asked Robert, who was unused to traveling. 

"No, it's not necessary. Your ticket will entitle you to a comfortableberth, but in a stateroom you have greater privacy. "

"What is a stateroom?" asked our hero. 

The clerk was rather surprised by this question, but decided that Robertwas not accustomed to traveling and answered politely enough:

"It is very much like a room in a hotel, only much smaller. There is aberth and a washstand, and you can lock yourself in. There is greatersecurity against robbery, for you hold the key and no one can enter itwithout your knowledge. "

As Robert carried considerable money belonging to Mr. Huet, he felt thathe ought to take this precaution, if it were not too expensive. 

"How much must I pay for a stateroom?" he asked. 

"You can get a good one for a dollar. "

"Then I will take one. "

"Number fifty-six, " said the clerk, handing him a card with the numberpenciled on it. "What's your name?"

"Robert Coverdale. "

So Robert walked out of the office with his passage engaged. 

This was on the morning after his arrival, and as the steamboat traindid not start till afternoon, this afforded him a chance to spendseveral hours in seeing the city. 

First he went to the Common and walked across it, surveying withinterest the large and noble trees which add so much beauty to a parkwhich, in size, is insignificant compared with the great parks of NewYork and Philadelphia, but appears older and more finished than either. 

He rode in various directions in the cars and enjoyed the varied sightsthat passed under his notice. 

At half-past four he paid his bill at the hotel and took a car whichpassed the depot from which the steamboat train for New York starts. 

The train was an express, and in little more than an hour he boarded thebeautiful Sound steamer. 

He was astonished at its magnificence as he went upstairs to the mainsaloon. As he was looking about him in rather a bewildered way a coloredman employed on the boat inquired:

"What are you looking for, young man?"

"Where shall I get a key to my stateroom?"

He was told, and, opening the door, he found himself in a comfortablelittle room with two berths. 

"I can pass the night here very pleasantly, " he thought. "There is somedifference between sleeping here and on a sailboat. "

Once, in company with his uncle, he had been compelled to pass the nighton the ocean in a small sailboat used for fishing purposes. 

Robert left his valise in the stateroom and went into the saloon. 

A gong was heard, which he found was the announcement of supper. It wasnow past seven o'clock and he felt hungry. He accordingly followed thecrowd downstairs and ate a hearty meal. 

When he went upstairs again the band soon began to play and helped towhile away the time. Some of the passengers read papers, others readbooks and magazines, while others from the outer decks watched theprogress of the large boat as it swiftly coursed over the waves. In thislast company was Robert. 

Without being aware of it, our hero attracted the notice of one of hisfellow passengers, a man possibly of thirty-five, tall and thin anddressed in black. Finally he accosted Robert. 

"A fine evening!" he remarked. 

"Yes, sir, very fine. "

"You are going to New York, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Do you tarry there?"

"Not long. I am going to Ohio. "

"You seem young to travel alone. Perhaps, however, you have company?"

"No, sir, " Robert answered. "I am traveling alone. "

There was a look of satisfaction on the man's face, which Robert did notsee. Even if he had he would not have known how to interpret it. 

"It is pleasant to go to New York by boat, " said the stranger. "I preferit to the cars; that is, when I can get a stateroom. Did you secureone?"

"Yes, sir. "

"You are more fortunate than I. I found they had all been taken. I wouldnot care so much if I were not suffering from fever and ague. "

"I suppose you have a berth?" said Robert. 

"Yes, but the berths are exposed to draughts and are not as desirable asstaterooms. "

Robert did not know that, so far from this being the case, the greatfault of the ordinary berths was a lack of air. 

"I suppose your stateroom contains two berths?" said the stranger. 

"Yes, I believe so. "

"I may be taking a liberty, but I have a proposal to make. If you willallow me to occupy one of them I will pay half the cost of your room. Itwould oblige me very much, but I would not ask if I were not sick. "

Robert did not entirely like this proposal. He preferred to be alone. Still he was naturally obliging, and he hardly knew how to refuse thisfavor to a sick man. 

"I see you hesitate, " said the stranger. "Pray think no more of myrequest. I would not mind paying the entire cost of the room, if youwill take me in. It cost you a dollar, did it not?"

"Yes, sir. "

"Then, " said the man, drawing a dollar bill from his pocketbook, "allowme to pay for it and share it with you. "

"I ought not to be selfish, " thought Robert. "I would rather be alone, but if this man is sick I think I will let him come in with me. "

He so expressed himself, and the other thanked him warmly and pressedthe dollar upon him. 

"No, " said Robert, "I can't take so much. You may pay for yourshare--fifty cents. "

"You are very kind, " murmured the other. 

And, replacing the bill in his pocketbook, he took out a half dollar andtendered it to our hero. 

Half an hour later both repaired to stateroom No. 56. 

As they entered the room the stranger glanced at the two berths and said:

"It is only fair that you should occupy the best berth. "

"Which is the best berth?" asked Robert. 

"The lower one is generally so considered, " said the other. "It is alittle wider and it is less trouble to get into it. I will take theupper one. "

"No, " said Robert generously. "You are sick and ought to have the best. I am perfectly well, and I shan't mind climbing into the upper one. "

"But it seems so selfish in me, " protested the stranger, "to step intoyour stateroom and take the best accommodations. "

"Not if I am willing, " responded Robert cheerfully. "So it is allsettled. "

"How kind you are!" murmured the invalid. "Though we have met sorecently, I cannot help feeling toward you as if you were my youngerbrother. "

Robert thanked him, but could hardly reciprocate the feeling. In truth, he had taken no fancy to the man whom he had accepted as roommate andwas only influenced by compassion for his reported sickness. 

They undressed and retired to their berths. As the stranger was about tostep into his he said:

"It is only fair to tell you my name. I am called Mortimer Fairfax and Iam a partner in a business firm in Baltimore. Are you in business?"

"Not exactly, " answered Robert, "though I am traveling on business justnow. "

"I believe you didn't mention your name, " said Fairfax. 

"My name is Robert Coverdale. "

"An excellent name. I know a family in Philadelphia by that name. Areyou sleepy?"

"A little. "

"Then suppose we go to sleep?"

"All right. Goodnight!"

Then there was silence in the stateroom. 

It was not long before Robert's eyes closed. He had gone aboutconsiderable during the day and was naturally fatigued. Generally he hadno difficulty in sleeping soundly, but to-night proved an exception. Hetossed about in his narrow berth and he was troubled with disagreeabledreams. Sometimes it happens that such dreams visit us to warn us ofimpending danger. 

Robert finally dreamed that a pickpocket had drawn his pocketbook fromhis pocket and was running away with it, and he awoke with a suddenstart, his face bathed in perspiration. 

It was midnight. The band had ceased playing for two hours and all whohad staterooms had retired to them. Only here and there in the mainsaloon a passenger lay asleep in an armchair. 

There was a scanty light, which entered the stateroom through a smallwindow, and by this light Robert, half rising in bed, saw a sight thatstartled him. 

Mr. Mortimer Fairfax, his roommate, was out of his berth. He had takendown Robert's trousers from the nail on which he had hung them and wasin the act of pulling out his wallet, which he had imprudently left init. 

This sight fully aroused the lad, and he prepared for action. 

Fairfax was half bent over, and Robert, who was deeply incensed, threwhimself from the upper berth, landing on the back of his roommate, whowas borne to the floor, releasing the garment with a startled cry. 

"What did you do that for?" he asked nervously. 

"What business had you with my pocketbook, you thief?" demanded Robertsternly. 

Mortimer Fairfax, who had supposed Robert to be fast asleep, saw that hewas in a scrape, but he was a man fertile in expedients, and heinstantly decided upon his course. 

"What do you mean?" he inquired in a tone of innocent bewilderment. 

"What do I mean?" retorted our hero. "I want to know what business youhad with my pocketbook in your hand?"

"You don't mean to say that I was meddling with your pocketbook?" saidFairfax with an air of surprise. 

"That is exactly what I do say, Mr. Fairfax. If I hadn't waked up justas I did, you would have had all my money, and I should have beenpenniless. That is the sort of fever and ague that troubles you, Isuppose. "

"My young friend, " said Fairfax, "I am shocked at what you tell me. I donot blame you for accusing me. If I were in your place and you in mine, I should no doubt act in the same way. Yet I am entirely innocent, I canassure you. "

"It don't look much like it, " Robert said, rather astonished at theman's effrontery. "When I find you examining my pockets and taking outmy pocketbook, it looks very much as if you were trying to rob me. "

"True, it does. I admit it all. But if you knew me, you would see howgroundless, nay, how absurd such suspicions are. Why, I am a rich man. Iam worth fifty thousand dollars. "

"Then why did you try to rob me?"

"I did not. It was only in appearance. Did you ever hear of asomnambulist?"

"No. "

"It is one who gets up in his sleep and is entirely unconscious of whathe does. From early youth--from the days of my innocent boyhood--I havebeen a victim of this unfortunate malady. "

"Do you often steal in your sleep?" inquired Robert sarcastically. 

"Not often, but I have done it before. Once, when a boy, I got up andtook a purse from the pocket of my uncle, who occupied the same roomwith me. "

"What did your uncle say?" Robert asked with some curiosity. 

"He was angry till my mother assured him that I was a somnambulist andnot responsible for what I did at such a time. Then we had a good laugh, over it. "

"Do you mean to say, Mr. Fairfax, that when you had your hand in mypocket just now you were asleep?"

"Sound asleep. I had no idea that I was out of my berth. "

"You seemed to wake up pretty quick afterward!"

"To be sure I did! I rather think you would wake up, too, if I shouldjump upon your back from the top berth! But I forgive you--don'tapologize, I beg. I should have been misled, as you were, if oursituations had been changed. "

Certainly Mr. Mortimer Fairfax was cool. 

In his limited acquaintance with the world Robert had never dreamed ofthe existence of such a character, but he was gifted with shrewd commonsense, and he did not for an instant believe the story which the otherpalmed off upon him. 

"Mr. Fairfax, " he said, "shall I tell you what I think of your story?"

"Yes, if you please. "

"I don't believe it. "

"What!" exclaimed Fairfax sadly. "Is it possible you believe that Iwould rob you, my kind benefactor?"

"I don't pretend to be your benefactor, but I haven't a doubt aboutit. "

"My dear young friend, " said Fairfax, putting his handkerchief to hiseyes, "you grieve me deeply--indeed you do! I had thought you wouldunderstand me better. You do not consider that I am a rich man and canhave no object in depriving you of your little store of money. Let us goto bed and forget this unpleasant little circumstance. "

"No, Mr. Fairfax, you cannot stay here any longer. I insist upon yourdressing yourself and leaving the stateroom!"

"But, my young friend. It is the middle of the night!"

"I can't help it!" said Robert resolutely. 

"And, in my delicate health, it would be dangerous. "

"I don't believe you are in delicate health, but I can't help it if youare. You must go!"

"You forget, " said Fairfax in a different tone, "that half of thestateroom is mine. I have paid for it. "

"Then I will return the money. Here it is. "

"I prefer to remain here. "

"If you don't go, " said Robert energetically, "I will call for help andreport that you tried to rob me!"

"You will repent this unkind treatment, " said Fairfax sullenly, but heproceeded to dress nevertheless, and in a few minutes he left thestateroom. 

Robert locked the door after him and then, returning to bed, he saidwith a sigh of relief:

"Now I can sleep without fear. I am sure that fellow is a rascal, and Iam glad to be rid of him. "

CHAPTER XXV

A BAGGAGE SMASHER'S REVENGE

When Robert awoke in the morning it was eight o'clock and the steamerlay quietly at its pier. Almost all the passengers had landed and he wasnearly alone on the great steamer. 

Of course Mortimer Fairfax had gone with the rest; in fact, Fairfax wasone of the first to land. He had passed the remainder of the night inthe saloon, anxious, as long as he remained on board, lest Robert shoulddenounce him for his attempted theft. 

Robert was a stranger in New York. He was instantly impressed by what hecould see of the great city from the deck of the steamer. He took hisvalise In his hand and walked across the gangplank upon the pier. At theentrance he was accosted by a hackman. 

"Carriage, sir?"

"No, " answered Robert. 

"I will carry you cheap. "

"What do you call cheap?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"Astor House. "

This hotel had been suggested by the hermit. 

"All right! Jump in!" and the hackman was about to take Robert'svalise. 

"Wait a moment, " said the lad firmly. "I haven't agreed to ride. What doyou charge?"

"Two dollars. "

"Two dollars! How far is it?"

"About five miles!" answered the hackman with unblushing falsehood. 

"Is there no stage that goes to that part of the city?"

"No; your only way is to take a carriage. "

Though Robert had never before been in New York, he felt convinced thatthis was untrue and said quietly:

"Then I will walk. "

"It is too far, young man. Nobody walks up there. "

"Then I'll be the first one to try it!" said Robert coolly. 

"Wait a minute, youngster! I'll take you for a dollar and a half. "

Robert did not answer, but crossed the street. 

"Carry your bag, sir?" said a boy of about his own age, who seemed to bewaiting for a job. 

"Do you know the way to the Astor House?" asked Robert. 

"I ought to. "

"How far is it?"

"Half a mile. "

"That hack driver told me it was five miles. "

The boy grinned. 

"He thought you were green, " he said. "Say, boss, shall I carry thatv'lise?"

"How much do you charge?"

"I'll take it to Broadway for a quarter. "

"All right. I'll pay it. "

"I see, " thought Robert, "I shall have to look out or I shall becheated. It seems to cost a good deal of money to travel. "

As Robert walked along he asked various questions of his young partneras to the buildings which they passed. On reaching Broadway he said:

"I don't care about riding. If you will walk along with me and carry thevalise I will pay you a quarter more. "

"All right. Only pay me the first quarter now, " said the boycautiously. 

"Just as you like. Are you afraid I won't pay you. "

"I dunno. I was served that way once. "

"How was it?"

"I was carryin' a bag--a thunderin' big bag it was, too--for a man tothis very hotel. I'd carried it about a mile; when we got there he tookit and was goin' in without payin' me. 

"'Look here, boss, ' I says, 'you haven't paid me. '

"'Yes, I did, ' he says. 'I paid you when you took the bag. '

"Then I knew he was a beat, and I made a fuss, I tell you, and folleredhim into the hotel. 

"'What's the matter?' asked one of the hotel men, comin' forrard. 

"'This boy wants me to pay him twice, ' he says. 

"Of course, the hotel people took up for the man and kicked me out ofthe hotel. I didn't blame them so much, for who'd think of a gentlemancheatin' a poor boy?"

"That was pretty hard on you, " said Robert in a tone of sympathy. "Hemust have been a mean man. "

"Mean? I guess he was. But I got even with him, and I didn't wait longneither. "

"How was that?"

"I got an egg and I laid for him. Toward night he come out, all dressedup like as if he was goin' to the theayter. I follered him, and when Igot a good chance I just hove it at him. I hit him just in his bosom, and the egg was spattered over his face and clothes. He gave a yell andthen I dodged round the corner. Oh, it was rich to see how he looked! Iguess he'd better have paid me. "

Robert could not help laughing, and did not find it in his heart toblame the boy who had chosen this summary way to redress hisgrievances. 

"I hope, " he said, "you haven't got any eggs with you now. "

"Why, ain't you goin' to pay me?"

"Oh, yes, I mean to pay you. I wouldn't cheat a poor boy. I'm a poor boymyself. "

His guide looked at him in surprise. 

"You a poor boy, with them clo'es?" he repeated. "If you was a poor boyyou wouldn't pay me for carryin' your baggage. "

"But would carry it myself?"

"Yes. "

"So I would, but I wanted somebody to guide me to the hotel. I amtraveling for a gentleman that pays the bills. "

"Oh, cricky! ain't that jolly? Wouldn't he like me to travel for him?"

"I guess not, " said Robert, laughing. 

"If he should, just give a feller a chance. "

"I might, if I knew your name and where you live. "

"I left my cardcase at home on the planner, along with my jewelry, butmy name's Michael Burke. The boys call me Mike. I live at the Newsboys'Lodge, when I'm at home. "

"All right, Mike; I'll remember. "

The remainder of the walk was enlivened by conversation of a similarkind. Though Mike was not much of a scholar, he was well informed onlocal matters, and it was upon such points that Robert wished to beposted. 

When they reached the hotel Mike uttered an exclamation of surprise. 

"Say, do you see that man in the doorway?" he asked eagerly. 

"What of him?"

"He's the very man that cheated me out of my pay--the man I hit wid anegg. Here he is again. "

Robert surveyed the man with curious interest. He was a man of middleage, well dressed, but with a hard, stern look upon his face. He was byno means one likely to attract strangers. 

"How do you know it is the same one?" asked Robert in a low voice. 

"He's got the same look. I'd remember him if it was a dozen years, butit's only six months. "

"But you might be mistaken. "

"I'll show you whether I am. Come along. "

When they entered the vestibule of the hotel Mike paused a moment and, in hearing of the stranger, said:

"Last night, as I was walkin' along, I seed a man hit wid a rotten egg. He looked mad enough to kill the one that throwed it. "

The stranger wheeled round and regarded Mike intently. 

"Boy, " said he, "I think I've seen you before. "

"Maybe you have, " answered Mike coolly. "Lots of people has seen me. "

"Did you ever carry a valise for me?"

"Maybe I did. I've carried lots of 'em. "

"I think you once brought a valise for me to this very hotel. "

"How much did you pay me for doin' it? Maybe I could tell by that. "

"I don't know. I presume I paid you liberally. "

"Then I guess it was some other boy, " said Mike, grinning. 

The gentleman looked puzzled, but just then a young man came up andspoke to him, addressing him as "Mr. Waldo. "

Robert started at the sound of this name. He remembered that this wasthe name of his employer's cousin, who was suspected of abducting theboy of whom he was in search. 

Bidding good-by to his young guide, he registered his name and thenturned over the pages back. In the list of arrivals for the day beforehe came upon this entry:

"Charles Waldo, Sullivan, Ohio. "

"It's the very man!" he said to himself in excitement. 

CHAPTER XXVI

TWO IMPORTANT DISCOVERIES

Charles Waldo was the name of the hermit's cousin, who was suspected ofkidnapping the boy who stood between him and the property. It was tofind this very man that Robert was sent out by Gilbert Huet. 

Robert felt that he was fortunate in so soon running across this man anddecided that as long as Mr. Waldo remained in the hotel it was hispolicy to remain also. 

He did not see how he was to find out anything about the missing boy, but resolved to watch and wait in the hope of obtaining a clew. He didnot wish to attract Mr. Waldo's suspicions, but took care to keep him inview. 

The next morning he observed Mr. Waldo in the reading room at the rearof the hotel talking with another person--rather a pretentious-lookingman, with black whiskers and a jaunty air. 

At the news stand he bought a copy of a morning paper and took a seatsufficiently near to hear what was said. 

Though Waldo and his companion spoke in low tones, neither wasapprehensive of being heard, as it was hardly to be presumed that anyone within hearing distance would feel an interest in what they had tosay. 

"As I was saying"--this was the first sentence which Robert heard fromMr. Waldo--"it is entirely uncertain when I shall derive any advantagefrom my cousin's estate. During his life he holds it. "

"How is his health?"

"I suppose he is well. In fact, I don't know but he is likely to live aslong as I do. There can't be more than five years' difference in ourages. "

"That is a discouraging outlook. "

"I should say so! But there is one chance for me during his life. "

"What is that?"

"He may be declared insane. In that case the management of the estatewould naturally be transferred to me as the direct heir. "

"But is there any ground for assumption that he is insane?"

"Yes. Ever since his son's death he has acted in an eccentric way--madea hermit of himself and withdrawn from society. You know grief broodedover often terminates in insanity. Then there was his wife's terribledeath, which had a strange effect upon him. 

"I did not understand that the boy died. "

"Well, he disappeared. He is undoubtedly dead. "

"It is his being out of the way that makes you the heir, is it not?"

"Of course, " answered Waldo. 

"Then all I can say is that it was mighty fortunate for you, " said hiscompanion dryly. 

"It hasn't done me any good yet and may not. These hermits are likely tolive long. Their habits are regular and they are not tempted to violatethe laws of health. I tell you, Mr. Thompson, it's a tantalizing thingto be so near a large fortune and yet kept out of it. "

"I suppose you pray for your cousin's death, then?"

"Not so bad as that, but, as he don't enjoy the property, it is a pity Ican't. "

"How much does the estate amount to probably?" asked the other withinterest. 

"Well, it can't be less than two hundred thousand dollars. "

"Whew! That's a great fortune!"

"So it is. If I get it, or when I get it, I won't mind doing as you askme, and setting you up in a snug business. "

"You could do it now, Mr. Waldo. You are a rich man, " said Thompson. 

"You are mistaken. I may have a competence, but nothing more. "

"You've got a fine farm. "

"That don't support me. Farming doesn't pay. "

"And money in stock and bonds. "

"Enough to make up the deficiency in my income. I assure you I don't layup a cent. I can't do it. "

"May I ask what is your errand in New York?"

"I want to speak to you about that. I want to find my cousin. "

"Don't his bankers know where he is?"

"If they do, they won't tell. I suppose they are acting under ordersfrom him?"

"Suppose you find him?"

"Then, " said Charles Waldo significantly, "I shall raise the question ofhis sanity. It won't be a difficult matter to prove him insane. It onlyneeds a certificate from a couple of doctors. I think I can find twoparties who will oblige me. "

"I say, Waldo, you're a cool, calculating fellow!" Thompson was about touse another word, but checked himself. "I wouldn't like to stand in yourway. "

"Nonsense! I only want to do what is right. "

"And it very conveniently happens that you consider right what is toyour interest. I say, have you any idea how the boy came to disappear?"

"Of course not! How should I?" answered Waldo uneasily. 

"I don't know, but as he stood in your way, I thought----"

"You think too much, " said Waldo. 

"Oh, I don't mean to censure you. I suppose if I had been in your placeI might have been tempted. "

"I know nothing about the boy's disappearance, " said Waldo hastily; "butlet us drop that. I sent for you because I saw that you could serveme. "

"Go on; if there's money in it, I am your man. "

"I shall pay you, of course; that is, I will pay you fairly. We willspeak of that hereafter. "

"What do you want me to do? Is there anybody you want to disappear?"

"Hush! You go too far, sir. I want to find out the whereabouts ofGilbert Huet. It is important for me to know where he is. "

"Can you give me a clew?"

"If I could I should not need to employ you. Come up to my room and Iwill communicate further with you. "

The two left the reading room and Robert was left to digest theimportant information he had received. 

"What a rascal that man is!" he reflected. "After stealing Mr. Huet'sboy, he wants to put him in a madhouse. I must let him know, so that hemay be on his guard. I don't believe they will think of looking for himat Cook's Harbor. "

By a curious coincidence the room assigned to Robert was next to thatoccupied by Mr. Waldo, and when the boy was about entering it, somehours later, he saw the gentleman going in just ahead of him. 

As the latter placed one hand upon the door he drew his handkerchieffrom his coat pocket, and in so doing brought out a letter, which fellupon the floor, without his seeing it. 

Passing into his room, he slammed the door, leaving the missive lying inthe hall. 

"It is a mean thing, " laughed Robert as he stooped down and picked itup, "to examine a letter not intended for me, but he is such a scampthat I'll do it in this case, hoping to learn something that will helpme find this poor boy. "

And so, without any compunctions, Robert took the letter--which had beenopened--into his room and read, with feelings which may possibly beimagined, the following letter:

 "DEAR SIR: I feel oblidged to rite to you about the boy I took from you. You told me he would work enough to pay for his keep, and did not want to pay me anything for my trubble. Now, Mr. Waldo, you are mistaken. The boy ain't tuff nor strong, and I can't got more'n half as much work out of him as I ought. He don't eat much, I kno, but the fact is I need a good strong boy, and I shall have to git another, and have two to feed, if things go on so. 

 "You told me I might be strict and harsh with him, and I am. He says he has the headache about half the time, but I don't pay no attenshun to that. If I did, I wouldn't git any work done. One day he fainted away in the feald, but it's my opinyun he brought it on a-purpose by not eatin' much breakfast. 

 "I tell you, Mr. Waldo, it is very aggravatin' to have such a shifless boy. Now, what I want to ask you is, if you can't allow me a dollar, or a dollar and a half a week to make it square. I'm willin' to take care of the boy, but I don't want to lose money by it. I kno you give him his clo'es, but that don't cost you much. He ain't had a suit for a year, and he needs one bad. 

 "I'm sure you will see the thing the way I do, if you are a reasonable man, as I have no reason to doubt you are; and so I remain yours to command, NATHAN BADGER. 

 "To MR. CHARLES WALDO. "

Robert could hardly express his excitement and indignation when he wasreading this letter. He felt sure that this poor boy, who was so cruellytreated, was the unfortunate son of his friend, the hermit, who ought tobe enjoying the comforts of a luxurious home. As it was, he was thevictim of a cruel and unscrupulous relative, influenced by the mostmercenary motives. 

"I will be his friend, " Robert resolved, "and if I can I will restorehim to his father. "

He looked for the date of the letter and found it. It had been writtenin the town of Dexter, in Ohio. Where this town was Robert did not know, but he could find out. 

"I won't wait for Mr. Waldo, " he said to himself. "I know all I need to. I will start for Ohio to-morrow. "

As for the letter, he resolved to keep it, as it might turn out to beimportant evidence in case of need. 

He could not understand how Mr. Waldo could be careless enough to mislayso important a document, but this did not concern him. It was hisbusiness to profit by it. 

CHAPTER XXVII

THE BOUND BOY

The town of Dexter was almost entirely agricultural. Its population wassmall and scattered. There were no large shops or manufactories to drawpeople to the place. Many of the farmers were well to do, carrying onagricultural operations on a considerable scale. 

Among the smaller farmers was Nathan Badger. He was fond of money, butknew no better way to get it than to live meanly, drive hard bargainsand spend as little as possible. In this way, though not a very goodfarmer, he was able to lay by a couple of hundred dollars a year, whichhe put away in the County Savings Bank. 

Mrs. Badger was a fitting wife for such a man. She was about as mean ashe was, with scarcely any of the traits that make women attractive. Shehad one, however--an indulgent love of her only child, Andrew JacksonBadger, who was about as disagreeable a cub as can well be imagined. YetI am not sure that Andrew was wholly responsible for his ugliness, asmost of his bad traits came to him by inheritance from the admirablepair whom he called father and mother. 

Andrew Jackson Badger was by no means a youthful Apollo. To speak moreplainly, he was no beauty. A tow head and freckled face often belong toa prepossessing boy of popular manners, but in Andrew's case they werejoined to insignificant features, small ferret eyes, a retreating chinand thin lips, set off by a repulsive expression. 

There was another member of the family--a bound boy--the same onereferred to in Mr. Nathan Badger's letter. This boy was, five yearsprevious, placed in Mr. Badger's charge by Charles Waldo. 

I do not want my young readers to remain under any uncertainty as tothis boy, and I state at once that he was the abducted son of GilbertHuet, the hermit of Cook's Harbor, and the rightful heir to a largeestate. 

At the time of our introduction to Bill Benton--for this is the name bywhich he was known--he had a hoe in his hand and he was about startingfor the field to hoe potatoes. 

He was a slender boy, with delicate features and a face which indicateda sensitive temperament. His hair was dark brown, his features wererefined, his eyes were blue and he looked like a boy of affectionatetemperament, who would feel injustice and harshness keenly. This wasindeed the case. He lacked the strong, sturdy character, the energy andself-reliance which made Robert Coverdale successful. Robert was not aboy to submit to injustice or wrong. He was not easily intimidated andcould resist imposition with all his might. But Bill--to call him by thename given him by Mr. Waldo--was of a more gentle, yielding disposition, and so he was doomed to suffer. 

He was certainly unfortunately situated. Mr. Badger required him to workbeyond his strength and seldom, or never, gave him a kind word. The samemay be said of Mrs. Badger. It was perhaps fortunate for him that he hada small appetite, for in the Badger household he would have been unableto gratify the hearty appetite of an average boy. 

The table was very mean and the only one who lived well was AndrewJackson, whom his mother petted and indulged. There was always somethingextra on the table for Andrew, which it was well understood that no oneelse in the family was to eat. 

Mr. Badger did not interfere with his wife's petting. If he had a softplace in his heart, it was for Andrew, who seemed to his partial parentsa remarkably smart and interesting boy. 

To Bill Benton he was a cruel tyrant. He delighted in making the life ofhis father's bound boy intolerable, and succeeded only too well. He wasstronger than Bill, and, backed by the authority of his father andmother, he dared do anything, while Bill knew that it was useless toresist. Still, gentle as he was, sometimes his spirit rose and made afeeble resistance. 

"Where are you going, Bill?" asked Andrew as the bound boy started offafter breakfast. 

"I am going to hoe potatoes, Andrew. "

"No, you're not; I want you to go and dig some worms for bait. I amgoing a-fishing. "

"But your father told me to go to the field at once. "

"I can't help that. He didn't know I wanted you. "

"He will scold me if I don't go to work. "

"That is my business. I tell you to go and dig some worms. "

Poor Bill! He knew very well that if Andrew got him into a scrape, hewould not help him out, but leave his father to suppose that Billdisobeyed of his own accord--if necessary, stoutly asserting it, forAndrew was by no means a boy of truth. 

"I would rather not go, Andrew, " said Bill uneasily. 

"Then take that!"

And Andrew brutally struck him with a whip he had in his hand. 

The bound boy flushed at this indignity. Gentle as he was, he resented ablow. 

"Don't you do that again, Andrew!" he said. "I won't stand it!"

"You won't stand it?" repeated Andrew tauntingly. "What will you doabout it, I'd like to know?"

"You have no right to hit me, and I won't submit to it, " said Bill witha spirit which quite astonished the young tyrant. 

He laughed scornfully and repeated the blow, but with more emphasis. 

Even the most gentle and long-suffering turn sometimes, and this was thecase now. 

The bound boy lifted the hoe and with the handle struck Andrew soforcibly that he dropped upon the ground, bellowing like a calf. 

Like most bullies he was cowardly, and the unexpected resistance and thepain of the blow quite overcame his fortitude, and he cried like ababy. 

It must be confessed that the bound boy was frightened by what he haddone. Too well he knew that he would suffer for his temerity. Besides, his compassion was aroused for Andrew, whom he thought to be worse hurtthan he was. 

He threw down the hoe and kneeled by the prostrate boy. 

"Oh, Andrew, I hope I didn't hurt you!" he cried. "I ought not to havestruck you. "

"You'll catch it when father comes home!" screamed Andrew furiously. "You almost killed me!"

"Oh, Andrew, I'm so sorry. I hope you'll forgive me. "

By this time Mrs. Badger had come to the door, and Andrew, catching aglimpse of her, gave a yell as if in extreme anguish. 

His mother came flying out of the house. 

"What's the matter, my darling?" she cried in alarm. 

"Bill knocked me down with a hoe, and I think I'm going to die!"answered Andrew with a fresh burst of anguish. 

Mrs. Badger was almost paralyzed with astonishment and wrath. She couldhardly believe her ears. What! Her Andrew assaulted by a beggarly boundboy!

"Bill knocked you down with a hoe?" she repeated. "You don't mean it?"

"Yes, I do. Ask him if he didn't. "

"Bill Benton, " said Mrs. Badger in an awful voice, "did you strikeAndrew with a hoe?"

"Yes, ma'am, and I'm sorry for it, but he struck me with a whip first. "

"No doubt he had a good reason for doing it. And so you tried to murderhim, you young ruffian?"

"No, I didn't, Mrs. Badger. He had no right to whip me, and I defendedmyself. But I'm sorry----"

Andrew set up another howl, though he no longer felt any pain, and hismother's wrath increased. 

"You'll end your life on the gallows, you young brute!" she exclaimed, glaring wrathfully at the poor boy. "Some night you'll try to murder usall in our beds. The only place for you is in jail! When Mr. Badgercomes home, I will report the case to him. Now, go to work. "

Poor Bill was glad to get away from the infuriated woman. 

Andrew was taken into the house and fed on preserves and sweetmeats byhis doting mother, while the poor bound boy was toiling in the hot sun, dreading the return of his stern master. 

Nathan Badger was not far away. He had driven to the village in thebuggy, not that he had any particular business there, but at presentthere was no farm work of a pressing nature except what the bound boycould do, and Mr. Badger did not love work for its own sake. 

In spite of his parsimony, he generally indulged himself in a glass ofbitters, of which he was very fond, whenever he went to the village. Hisparsimony stood him in good stead in one respect, at least, for itprevented his becoming a drunkard. 

I have said that Mr. Badger had no particular business at the village, but this is not strictly true. He had business at the post office. 

Some time since he had written to Mr. Waldo, asking for a moneyallowance for the care of Bill Benton. He knew very well that he was notentitled to it. He was at no expense for the boy's clothes, andcertainly Bill richly earned the very frugal fare, of which he partooksparingly, and the privilege of a hard bed in the attic. But it hadstruck him as possible that Mr. Waldo, not knowing the falsehood of hisrepresentations, would comply with his request. 

"If I can get a dollar or a dollar 'n' a half for the boy's keep, " Mr. Badger soliloquized, "I can make a good thing out'n him. A dollar a weekwill come to fifty-two dollars a year, and I can't put a cent into thesavings bank. A dollar 'n' a half will come to--lemme see--toseventy-eight dollars a year! That, in five years, would be threehundred and ninety dollars, without counting the interest. "

Mr. Badger's eyes glistened and his heart was elated as he took in themagnificent idea. But, alas! he was counting chickens that were notlikely to be hatched. 

When sufficient time had elapsed for an answer to be due, he went to thepost office every day, but there had been unusual delay. At last ananswer had been received that very morning. 

Mr. Badger tore open the envelope in eager haste, but there was noremittance, as he had fondly hoped. The contents of the letter alsothrew cold water on his aspiring hopes, as may be seen from thefollowing transcript of it:

 "MR. NATHAN BADGER: Your letter is received asking me to pay you a weekly sum for the boy whom I bound out to you some years ago. I can hardly express the surprise I felt at this application. You certainly cannot forget that I furnish the boy's clothes, and that all you are required to do is to provide him board and lodging in return for his work. This is certainly a very good bargain for you. I need not say that the work of a boy of fifteen or sixteen years will amply repay you for his board, especially if, as I infer from your letter, he is a small eater. Generally farmers are willing to provide clothes also, and I think I am dealing very liberally with you in exempting you from this additional expense. 

 "You seem to forget one thing more: For three years, on account of the boy's being young, and so unable to work much, I allowed you fifty dollars a year, though I could readily have found another man to take him without this allowance. Under the circumstances I consider it very extraordinary that you should apply to me at this late day for an extra allowance. I am not made of money, and whatever I do for this boy is out of pure benevolence, for he has no claim upon me; but I assure you that I will not be imposed upon, therefore I say 'no' most emphatically. 

 "One other thing. You say the boy doesn't work as much as he ought to. I can only say this is no business of mine. You have full authority over him, and you can make him work. I don't believe in pampering boys and indulging them in laziness. I recommend you to be strict with William--to let him understand that you are not to be trifled with. Such would be my course. Yours, etc. , "CHARLES WALDO. "

Nathan Badger was deeply disappointed. He had made up his mind that Mr. Waldo would allow him at least a dollar a week and had complacentlycalculated how much this would enable him to lay aside. Now this dreamwas over. 

Of course he could have given up the boy, for he was not formally boundto him. But this he did not care to do. The fact was that Bill earnedhis board twice over, and Mr. Badger knew it, though he would not haveadmitted it. It was for his interest to keep him. 

He went home deeply disappointed and angry and disposed to vent hisspite on the poor victim of his tyranny, even had there been noplausible excuse for doing so. 

When he reached home he was met by Mrs. Badger with a frowning brow. "Well, Mr. Badger, there's been a pretty scene since you went away. "

"What do you mean, Cornelia?"

"Bill has nearly killed Andrew Jackson. "

"Are you crazy, wife?"

"No, I am in earnest. The young rascal attacked poor Andrew with a hoeand nearly killed him. "

"Then he must be crazy!" ejaculated Mr. Badger. "Where is Andrew? I wanthis account of it. If it is as you say, the boy shall suffer. "

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE VICTIM OF TYRANNY

Andrew Jackson made his appearance with a piece of brown paper over animaginary bruise on his head and eye and the carefully assumedexpression of a suffering victim. 

"What is this I hear?" asked his father. "Have you had a difficulty withBill?"

"Yes, " answered Andrew in the tone of a martyr. "He knocked me down witha hoe, and if mother had not come out just as she did I think he wouldhave killed me. "

"What made him attack you?" asked Mr. Badger, exceedingly surprised. 

"I asked him if he would dig some fish-worms for me. "

"Couldn't you dig some yourself?"

"I s'pose I could, but he knew better than I where to find them. "

"What next?"

"He said he wouldn't. I told him that I would tell you about hisimpertinence. Then he hit me with the hoe as hard as he could. "

"Was that all that passed?"

"Yes. "

"I don't quite understand it. You are surely stronger than Bill. How didit happen that you allowed him to strike you?"

"He had a hoe and I hadn't anything, " answered Andrew meekly. "He was sofurious that he wouldn't have made anything of killing me. "

"I always thought he was rather mild and milk-and-watery, " said NathanBadger thoughtfully. 

"You wouldn't have thought so if you'd seen him, Mr. Badger, " said hiswife, drawing upon her imagination. "He looked like a young fiend. DearAndrew is right. The boy is positively dangerous! I don't know but weshall be murdered in our beds some night if we let him go on this way. "

Mr. Badger shrugged his shoulders, for he was not quite a fool, andanswered dryly:

"That thought won't keep me awake. He isn't that kind of a boy. "

"Oh, well, Mr. Badger, if you are going to take his part against yourown flesh and blood, I've got no more to say. "

"Who's taking his part?" retorted Mr. Badger sharply. "I'm not going touphold him in attacking Andrew, but I'm rather surprised at hismustering spunk enough to do it. As for his doing us any harm, that'sall nonsense. "

"You may change your mind when it's too late, Mr. Badger. "

"Are you afraid of him?" asked her husband contemptuously as he regardedthe tall, muscular figure of his wife, who probably would have been amatch for himself in physical strength. 

"I can defend myself if I am awake, " said Mrs. Badger. "But what's tohinder his attacking me when I'm asleep?"

"You can fasten your door if you are afraid. But that isn't my troublewith him. There's something more serious, Mrs. B. "

"What is it? What's he been doin'?"

"It isn't he. It's Charles Waldo. I'm free to say that Mr. Waldo is themeanest man I ever had dealings with. You know I wrote to him to see ifhe wouldn't allow me something extra toward the boy's keep. "

"Yes. "

"Well, read that letter. Or, stay, I'll read it to you. "

Mr. Badger took the letter from his pocket and read it aloud to his wifeand son. Mrs. Badger was as much disappointed as her husband, for shewas quite as fond of money as he. 

"What are you goin' to do?" she asked. 

"I can't do anything, " answered Mr. Badger in deep disgust. 

"Will you keep the boy?"

"Of course I will. Between ourselves, he more than earns his victuals;but, all the same, Mr. Waldo is perfectly able to allow us a littleprofit. "

"You must make him work harder, " suggested Mrs. Badger. 

"I mean to. Now, we will settle about this little affair. Where isBill?"

"Out in the field, digging potatoes, " said Andrew glibly. 

"Go and call him. "

"All right, sir. "

And the boy prepared to obey the command with uncommon alacrity. 

Poor Bill, nervous and unhappy, had been hard at work in the potatofield through the long forenoon, meditating bitterly on his sadposition. So far as he knew, there was no one that loved him, no onethat cared for him. He was a friendless boy. From Mr. And Mrs. Badgerand Andrew he never received a kind nor encouraging word, but, instead, taunts and reproaches, and the heart of the poor boy, hungering forkindness, found none. 

"Will it always be so?" he asked himself. "If Andrew would only be kindto me I would do anything for him, but he seems to hate me, and so doesMrs. Badger. Mr. Badger isn't quite so bad, but he only cares for thework I do. "

The poor boy sighed heavily as he leaned for a moment upon his hoe. "Hewas roused by a sharp voice. 

"Shirking your work, are you?" said Andrew. "I've caught you this time. What'll my father say to that?"

"I have been working hard, Andrew, " said Bill. "I can show you what Ihave done this forenoon. "

"That's too thin. You're lazy, and that's all about it. Well, myfather's got home, and now you're going to catch it. Maybe you'll knockhim down with a hoe, " said Andrew tauntingly. 

"I'm sorry I hit you, Andrew, as I told you; but you shouldn't havestruck me with a whip. "

"I had a perfect right to do it. I'm your master. "

"No, you're not!" returned Bill with spirit. 

"We'll see whether I am or not. Come right up to the house. "

"Who says so?"

"My father told me to call you. "

"Very well, I will come, " and the bound boy shouldered his hoe andfollowed Andrew wearily to the farmhouse yard, where Mr. And Mrs. Badgerwere standing. 

One look at the stern faces of the pair satisfied Bill that troubleawaited him. He knew very well that he could not hope for justice andthat one word from Andrew in the mind of his parents would outweigh allhe could say. 

"Here comes the young ruffian!" said Mrs. Badger as soon as he camewithin hearing distance. "Here comes the wicked boy who tried to kill mypoor Andrew. "

"That is not true, Mrs. Badger, " said Bill earnestly. "I was onlydefending myself. "

"You hear, Mr. Badger. He as much as tells me I lie! Do you hear that?"demanded the incensed woman. 

"Bill Benton, " said Mr. Badger sternly, "I hear you have made a savageand brutal attack on Andrew Jackson. Now, what have you to say foryourself, sir?"

"He struck me twice with a whip, Mr. Badger, and I got mad. I didn'tmean to hurt him. "

"You might have killed him!" broke in Mrs. Badger. 

"No, I wouldn't, ma'am. "

"Contradicting me again! If there was ever a boy looked like a youngfiend, you did when I came out to save my boy from your brutal temper. Oh, you'll swing on the gallows some day, sir! I'm sure of that. "

To an unprejudiced observer all this would have been very ridiculous. The delicate, refined-looking boy, whose face showed unmistakablegentleness and mildness, almost carried to an extreme, was about thelast boy to whom such words could suitably have been addressed. 

"Andrew Jackson, did you strike Bill with a whip?" asked Mr. Badger, turning to his son. 

"No, I didn't, " answered Andrew without a blush. 

"How can you tell such a lie?" said Bill indignantly. 

"Mr. Badger, will you allow this young ruffian to accuse your own son offalsehood?" cried the mother. 

"Did you have a whip in your hand, Andrew?" asked his father. 

Andrew hesitated a moment, but finally thought it best to say he did. 

"Did you strike Bill with it?"

"No. "

"You see how candid the poor boy is, " said his mother. "He tells youthat he had a whip in his hand, though many boys would have denied it. But my Andrew was always truthful. "

Even Andrew felt a little embarrassed at this undeserved tribute to avirtue in which he knew that he was very deficient. 

"Bill Benton, " said Mr. Badger sternly, "it appears that you have notonly made an atrocious assault on my son, but lied deliberately aboutit. You shall have neither dinner nor supper, and tonight I will giveyou a flogging. Now, go back to your work!"

"Ho, ho! You'll hit me again, will you?" said Andrew triumphantly as thepoor boy slowly retraced his way to the field. 

As the bound boy walked wearily back to the field he felt that he hadlittle to live for. Hard work--too hard for his slenderstrength--accompanied by poor fare and cruel treatment, constituted hisonly prospect. But there seemed no alternative. He must keep on workingand suffering--so far he could foresee. 

He worked an hour and then he began to feel faint. He had eaten butlittle breakfast and he needed a fresh supply of food to restore hisstrength. How he could hold out till evening he could not tell. Alreadyhis head began to ache and he felt weary and listless. 

He was left to work alone, for Mr. Badger usually indulged himself inthe luxury of an after-dinner nap, lasting till at least three o'clock. 

As he was plodding along suddenly he heard his name called in a cheeryvoice:

"Hello, Bill!"

Looking up, he saw Dick Schmidt, the son of a neighbor, a good-naturedboy, whom he looked upon as almost his only friend. 

"Hello, Dick!" he responded. 

"You're looking pale. Bill, " said his friend. "What's the matter?"

"I don't feel very well, Dick. "

"You ought not to be at work. Have you had dinner?"

"I am not to have any. "

"Why not?" asked Dick, opening his eyes. "I knew old Badger was mean, but I didn't think he was mean enough for that!"

"It's a punishment, " Bill explained. 

"What for?"

"For hitting Andrew Jackson with a hoe and knocking him down. "

"Did you do that, Bill?" exclaimed Dick in great delight, for hedisliked Mr. Badger's petted heir. "I didn't think it was in you! Shakehands, old fellow, and tell me all about it. "

"I am afraid it was wicked, Dick, but I couldn't help it. I must havehurt him, for he screamed very loud. "

"Better and better! I know how he treats you, Bill, and I tell you it'lldo him good--the young tyrant! But you haven't told me about it. "

Bill told the story, to which Dick listened with earnest attention. Heexpressed hearty approval of Bill's course and declared that he wouldhave done the same. 

"So you are in disgrace, " he said. "Never mind. Bill. It'll all come outright. It is worth something to have punished that young bully. Butwhat's the matter, Bill? What makes you so pale?"

"I think it's going without my dinner. The hard work makes me hungry. "

"Just wait a minute. I'll be back in a jiffy!"

Dick was off like a shot. When he returned he brought with him twoslices of bread and butter, a slice of cold meat and two apples. 

"Eat 'em, Bill, " he said. "They'll make you feel better. "

"Oh, Dick! I didn't want to trouble you so much. "

"It was no trouble, old fellow. "

"What will your mother say to your taking all this?"

"She'll be glad of it. She isn't so mean as Mrs. Badger. I say, Bill, you must come over and take supper with us some time. There's plenty toeat at our house. "

"I should like to, Dick, if Mr. Badger would let me. "

"Don't talk any more till you have eaten what I brought you. "

Bill obeyed his friend's directions, and, to Dick's great satisfaction, ate all that had been brought him with evident appetite. 

"I feel a good deal better, " he said as he took the hoe once more andset to work. "I feel strong now. "

"It's lucky I came along. I say. Bill, is that your only punishment?"

A shadow came over Bill's face. 

"I am to be flogged this evening, " he said. "Mr. Badger told me so, andhe always keeps his word. "

Dick set his teeth and clinched his fists. 

"I'd like to flog old Badger, " he said energetically. "Are you going tostand it?"

"I can't help it, Dick. "

"I'd help it!" said his friend, nodding emphatically. 

Bill shook his head despondently. 

The whipping seemed to him inevitable, and there seemed to be no way ofavoiding it. 

"What time do you expect he will whip you--the old brute?" asked Dick. 

"He waits till nine o'clock, just after I have gone to bed. "

"Then will you follow my advice?"

"What is it?"

Dick whispered in Bill's ear the plan he had in view. There was no needto whisper, but he did it to show that the communication wasconfidential. 

This was the plan:

Bill was to go to bed as usual, but in about fifteen minutes he was toget out of the window, slide along the roof of the L and descend to theground, when Dick was to meet him, escort him to his house and allow himto share his room for the night. 

"Then, " said he, "when the old man comes up to tackle you he'll have topound the bed and get his satisfaction out of that. Won't that be asplendid joke?"

Bill smiled faintly. It seemed to him a daring defiance of Mr. Badger, but, after all, he wouldn't fare any worse than he was sure of doing, and he finally acquiesced, though with serious doubts as to thepropriety of the plan. 

"Don't say a word to let 'em know what you're going to do. Bill--mindthat!"

"No, I won't. "

"You'll be sure to find me waiting for you outside the house, just atthe back of the barn. I'll give you some supper when you reach thehouse. "

When the bound boy came from work in the evening he met stern, coldlooks from Mr. And Mrs. Badger, but Andrew Jackson wore a look oftriumphant malice. He was gloating over the punishment in reserve forthe boy whom he so groundlessly hated. 

"Ain't you hungry?" he said tauntingly. 

Bill looked at him, but did not answer. 

"Oh, you needn't answer. I know you are, " said the young tyrant. "Youdidn't like it very much, going without your dinner. You ain't going tohave any supper, either. If you're very hungry, though, and will go downon your knees and beg my pardon, I'll get you something to eat. What doyou say?"

"I won't do what you say, " said Bill slowly. "I don't care enough forsupper to do that. "

"You don't?" exclaimed Andrew angrily. "So you're stubborn, are you?Anyhow, you can't say I haven't given you a chance. "

"You're very kind!" said the bound boy sarcastically, in spite of hisgentleness. 

"Of course I am, " blustered Andrew Jackson. "Most boys wouldn't be, after the way you treated me. "

"You want the satisfaction of having me beg your pardon, " said Bill, looking full in the face of the petty despot. 

"Yes, I do; and I mean to have it. "

"You can, upon one condition. "

"What's that?" asked Andrew Jackson, his curiosity overcoming hisindignation. 

"If you'll beg my pardon for striking me with your whip, I'll beg yoursfor hitting you with the hoe. "

Andrew fairly gasped for breath at this daring proposal, and he lookedfor a moment as if he were in danger of having a stroke of apoplexy. 

"You saucy beggar!" he ejaculated. "How dare you talk to me in thatimpertinent way? I'll tell father to give you the worst flogging everyou had to-night--see if I don't!"

And the boy left to report Bill's new insolence to his mother. 

Bill crept up to bed a little earlier than usual. He knew that Mr. Badger would not ascend to his humble room to administer the threatenedpunishment till nine o'clock or later. 

Through a refinement of cruelty that humane gentleman chose to let hisintended victim lie in an anxious anticipation of the flogging, thusmaking it assume greater terror. 

In fact, he probably would not return from the village till nine o'clockor later, and this was an additional reason why he put it off. 

His absence made it easier for Bill to carry out the plan which had beenformed for him by his trusty friend, Dick Schmidt, and escape from thehouse. 

He accomplished his escape unnoticed about half-past eight o'clock. 

Dick was waiting for him behind the barn. He had been a little afraidthat Bill would repent the promise he had made and back out. When he sawhim he welcomed him gladly. 

"I was afraid you wouldn't dare to come, Bill, " he said. 

"I shan't be any worse off, " said the bound boy. "Mr. Badger was goingto give me a flogging, anyway, and he can't do any more than that as itis. "

"What an old brute he is!" exclaimed Dick. 

"He isn't as bad as his wife or Andrew Jackson. "

"That's so! Andrew is a mean boy. I'm glad you hit him. "

"I am sorry, Dick. "

"Don't you think he deserved it?"

"Yes, but I don't like to be the one to do it. "

"I wouldn't mind it, " said Dick, "but he's precious careful not to getinto any muss with me. "

"You're not bound to Mr. Badger. "

"If I were, he wouldn't dare to order me round. Catch him bulldozingme!"

"You're more plucky than I am, Dick. "

"You're too good-natured, Bill--that's what's the matter with you. "

"I hate fighting, Dick. "

"What did Andrew say to you when you came home from work?"

"He wanted me to go down on my knees and beg his pardon for hittinghim. "

"Why didn't you knock him down?" said Dick quickly. 

"I told him I'd do it----"

_"What!"_ exclaimed Dick Schmidt in the deepest disgust. 

"If he'd beg my pardon first for striking me with a whip. "

"That's better. I thought you wouldn't be so much of a coward as to beghis pardon. "

"He didn't accept the offer, " said Bill, smiling. 

"No, I suppose not. Was he mad?"

"He looked as if he was. He called me a saucy beggar and threatened totell his father. "

"I've no doubt he will. He's just mean enough to do that. I say. Bill, it's a pity you don't work for my father. "

"I wish I did, Dick, but perhaps you'd boss me, too. "

"Not much danger. We'd be like brothers. "

While this conversation was going on the two boys were walking acrossthe fields to Mr. Schmidt's farm. The distance was not great, and bythis time they were at the back door. 

As they went in Bill's eyes glistened as he saw a nice supper laid onthe kitchen table, waiting for him, for Dick had told his mother of theguest he expected. He decided to say nothing of the circumstances thatled to the invitation. He might safely have done so, however, for Mrs. Schmidt was a good, motherly woman, who pitied the boy and understoodvery well that his position in Mr. Badger's family must be a verydisagreeable one. 

"I am glad to see you, William, " she said. "Sit right down and eatsupper. I've got a hot cup of tea for you. "

"I'll sit down, too, mother. I only ate a little supper, for I wanted tokeep Bill company. "

Presently the boys went to bed and had a social chat before going tosleep. 

"I wish, " said Dick, "I could be where I could look on when old Badgergoes up to your room and finds the bird flown. "

If Dick could have been there, he would have witnessed an extraordinaryscene. 

CHAPTER XXIX

THE BATTLE IN THE ATTIC

About ten minutes after Bill Benton left his little chamber anill-looking man, whose garb and general appearance made it clear that hewas a tramp, came strolling across the fields. He had made someinquiries about the farmers in the neighborhood, and his attention wasdrawn to Nathan Badger as a man who was likely to keep money in thehouse. 

Some tramps are honest men, the victims of misfortune, not of vice, butTom Tapley belonged to a less creditable class. He had served two termsin a State penitentiary without deriving any particular moral benefitfrom his retired life therein. His ideas on the subject of honesty weredecidedly loose, and none who knew him well would have trusted him withthe value of a dollar. 

Such was the man who approached the Badger homestead. 

Now it happened that Mrs. Badger and Andrew Jackson had gone to make acall. Both intended to be back by nine o'clock, as neither wished tolose the gratification of being near by when Bill Benton received hisflogging. As for Mr. Badger, he was at the village as usual in theevening. 

Thus it will be seen that as Bill also had left the house, no one wasleft in charge. 

Tom Tapley made a careful examination of the house from the outside, andhis experienced eyes discovered that it was unprotected. 

"Here's luck!" he said to himself. "Now what's to prevent my explorin'this here shanty and makin' off with any valuables I come across?"

Two objections, however, occurred to the enterprising tramp: First, itwas not likely at that time in the evening that he would be left alonelong enough to gather in his booty, and, secondly, the absent occupantsof the house might have money and articles of value on their personswhich at present it would be impossible to secure. 

The front door was not locked. Mr. Tapley opened it, and, finding thecoast clear, went upstairs. Continuing his explorations, he made his wayto the little attic chamber usually occupied by the bound boy. 

"Nobody sleeps here, I expect, though the bed is rumpled, " he said tohimself. "There's two boys, I've heard, but it's likely they sleeptogether downstairs. I guess I'll slip into bed and get a little resttill it's time to attend to business. "

The tramp, with a sigh of enjoyment, for he had not lately slept in abed, lay down on Bill's hard couch. It was not long before drowsinessovercame him and he fell asleep. 

In the meantime the three absent members of the family came home. FirstMrs. Badger and Andrew Jackson returned from their visit. 

"Your father isn't home yet, Andrew, " said his mother. 

"I hope he will come soon, for I'm sleepy, " said Andrew. 

"Then you had better go to bed, my darling. "

"No, I won't. I ain't goin' to lose seein' Bill's flogging. I hopefather'll lay it on well. "

"No doubt the boy deserves it. "

"What do you think he had the impudence to say to me, mother?" askedAndrew. 

"I shall not be surprised at any impudence from the young reprobate. "

"He wanted me to beg his pardon for strikin' him with a whip, as he saidI did. "

"Well, I never did!" ejaculated Mrs. Badger. "To think of my boyapologizing to a low, hired boy like him!"

"Oh, he's gettin' awful airy, ma! Shouldn't wonder if he thought he wasmy equal!"

"There's nothing but a flogging will subdue such a boy as that. I ain'tunmerciful, and if the boy showed a proper humility I wouldn't minddoin' all I could for him and overlookin' his faults, but when heinsults my Andrew, I can't excuse him. But there's one thing I can'tunderstand: He didn't use to be so bold. "

"I know what has changed him, ma. "

"What is it, Andrew?"

"It's that Dick Schmidt. Dick treats him as if he was his equal, andthat makes him put on airs. "

"Then Dick lowers himself--though, to be sure, I don't hold him to beequal to you! The Badgers are a better family than the Schmidts, and soare the Coneys, which was my name before I was married. "

"I wonder whether Bill's asleep?" said Andrew. 

"You might go to the foot of the stairs and listen, " said his mother. 

Andrew followed his mother's advice, and, opening the door at the footof the attic stairs, was astonished to hear the deep breathing whichissued from Bill's chamber. 

"Ma, " he said, "Bill is snoring like a house afire. "

"Reckless boy! Does he make so light of the flogging which your fatherhas promised him?"

"I don't know. He's gettin' awful sassy lately. I do wish father wouldcome home. "

"I think I hear him now, " said Mrs. Badger, listening intently. 

Her ears did not deceive her. 

Soon the steps of the master of the house, as he considered himself, were heard upon the doorstep, and Mr. Nathan Badger entered. 

"I'm glad you've come, pa. Are you goin' to flog Bill now?"

"Yes, my son. Get me a stout stick from the woodshed. "

Andrew Jackson obeyed with alacrity. 

Armed with the stick, Mr. Badger crept upstairs, rather astonished byhis bound boy's noisy breathing, and, entering the darkened chamber, brought the stick down smartly on the astonished sleeper. 

In about two minutes Mrs. Badger and Andrew, standing at the foot of thestairs, were astonished by the noise of a terrible conflict in thelittle attic chamber, as if two men were wrestling. 

There was the sound of a heavy body flung on the floor, and the voice ofMr. Badger was heard shouting:

"Help! help! murder!"

"The young villain's killing your father!" exclaimed the astonished Mrs. Badger. "Go up and help him!"

"I don't dare to, " said Andrew, pale as a sheet. 

"Then I will!" said his mother, and she hurried upstairs, only to be metby her husband, who was literally tumbled downstairs by the occupant ofthe attic chamber. 

Husband and wife fell together in a heap, and Andrew Jackson uttered ayell of dismay. 

In all the confidence of assured victory, Mr. Nathan Badger, seeing thedim outline of a figure upon the bed, had brought down his stick upon itwith emphasis. 

"I'll l'arn you!" he muttered in audible accents. 

It was a rude awakening for Tom Tapley, the tramp, who was sleeping aspeacefully as a child. 

The first blow aroused him, but left him in a state of bewilderment, sothat he merely shrank from the descending stick without any particularidea of what had happened to him. 

"Didn't feel it, did yer?" exclaimed Mr. Badger. "Well, I'll see if Ican't make yer feel it!" and he brought down the stick for the secondtime with considerably increased vigor. 

By this time Tom Tapley was awake. By this time also he thoroughlyunderstood the situation or thought he did. He had been found out, andthe farmer had undertaken to give him a lesson. 

"That depends on whether you're stronger than I am, " thought Tom, and hesprang from the bed and threw himself upon the astonished farmer. 

Nathan Badger was almost paralyzed by the thought that Bill Benton, hishired boy, was absolutely daring enough to resist his lawful master. Hewas even more astounded by Bill's extraordinary strength. Why, as theboy grappled with him, he actually felt powerless. He was crushed to thefloor, and, with the boy's knee upon his breast, struggled in vain toget up. It was so dark that he had not yet discovered that hisantagonist was a man and not a boy. 

Nathan Badger had heard that insane persons are endowed withextraordinary strength, and it flashed upon him that the boy had becomesuddenly insane. 

The horror of being in conflict with a crazy boy so impressed him thathe cried for help. 

Then it was that Tom Tapley, gathering all his strength, lifted up theprostrate farmer and pitched him downstairs just as Mrs. Badger wasmounting them, so that she and her husband fell in a breathless heap onthe lower stairs, to the indescribable dismay of Andrew Jackson. 

Mrs. Badger was the first to pick herself up. 

"What does all this mean, Mr. Badger?" she asked. 

"That's what I'd like to know, " said Mr. Badger ruefully. 

"You don't mean to say you ain't a match for a boy?" she demandedsarcastically. 

"Perhaps you'd like to try him yourself?" said her husband. 

"This is very absurd, Mr. Badger. You know very well he's weak for a boyof sixteen, and he hasn't had anything to eat since morning. "

"If you think he's weak, you'd better tackle him, " retorted Nathan. "Itell you, wife, he's got the strength of a man and a strong man, too. "

"I don't understand it. Tell me exactly what happened. "

"Well, you saw me go upstairs with the stick Andrew Jackson gave me, "said Mr. Badger, assuming a sitting position. "I saw the boy lyin' onthe bed, snoring and I up with my stick and brought it down pretty hard. He quivered a little, but that was all. So I thought I'd try it again. He jumped out of bed and sprang on me like a tiger, grinding his teeth, but not saying a word. I tell you, wife, he seemed as strong as a horse. I couldn't get up, and he sat and pounded me. "

"The idea of being pounded by a small boy!" ejaculated Mrs. Badger. 

"Just what I'd have said a quarter of an hour ago!"

"It seems impossible!"

"Perhaps it does, but it's so. "

"He never acted so before. "

"No, and he never hit Andrew Jackson before, but yesterday he did it. Itell you what, wife, I believe the boy's gone crazy. "

"Crazy!" ejaculated Mrs. Badger and Andrew in a breath. 

"Just so! When folks are crazy they're a good deal stronger than it'snateral for them to be, and that's the way with Bill Benton. "

"But what could possibly make him crazy?" demanded Mrs. Badgerincredulously. 

"It may be the want of vittles. I don't know as we'd orter have kept himwithout his dinner and supper. "

"I don't believe a bit in such rubbish, " said Mrs. Badger, whose couragehad come back with the absolute silence in the attic chamber. "I believeyou're a coward, Nathan Badger. I'll go upstairs myself and see if Ican't succeed better than you did. "

"You'd better not, wife. "

"Oh, don't go, ma!" said Andrew Jackson, pale with terror. 

"I'm going!" said the intrepid woman. "It shan't be said of me that I'mafraid of a little bound boy who's as weak as a rat. "

"You'll find out how weak he is, " said Mr. Badger. "I warn you not togo. "

"I'm goin', all the same, " said Mrs. Badger. "You'll see how I'll tamehim down. Give me the stick. "

"Then go if you're so plaguy obstinate, " said her husband, and it mustbe confessed that he rather hoped his wife, who had ventured to ridiculehim, might herself meet with a reception that would make her change hertune somewhat. 

Mrs. Badger, stick in hand, marched up to the door of the attic andcalled out boldly:

"Open the door, you young villain!"

"How does she know I'm young?" thought Tom Tapley, who was on guard inthe room. "Well, now, if she wasn't such an old woman I should feelflattered. I guess I'll have to scare her a little. It wouldn't bepolite to tumble her downstairs as I did her husband. "

"Have you gone crazy?" demanded Mrs. Badger behind the door. 

"Not that I know of, " muttered the tramp. 

"Perhaps you think you can manage me as well as Mr. Badger?" shecontinued. 

"I should smile if I couldn't, " commented Tom Tapley. "That woman mustthink she's extra strong to be a match for me!"

"I'm coming in to whip you till you cry for mercy!"

"Really, she's a pretty spunky old woman!" thought the tramp. "If Ican't hold my own against her, I'll sell myself for old rags!"

Mrs. Badger pushed open the door, saw dimly the outline of the tramp andstruck at it with the stick. 

But alas! the stick was wrenched from her hand, a pistol, loaded onlywith powder, was discharged, and the intrepid lady, in a panic, flew outof the room and downstairs, tumbling into her husband's arms. 

Nathan Badger was delighted at his wife's discomfiture. She couldn'ttaunt him any longer. 

"I told you so!" he chuckled. "How do you like tacklin' him yourself, mydear? Wouldn't you like to try it again? Ho! ho!"

"Mr. Badger, you're a fool!" exclaimed his wife sharply. 

"It strikes me you're a little in that way yourself, Mrs. Badger. Didyou give him a floggin'? Ho, ho! you were in a great hurry to comeaway!"

"Mr. Badger, he fired at me with a pistol. I tell you he's a dangerousboy to have in the house. "

"Oh, no, Mrs. Badger, you can manage him just as easy!"

"Shut up, Mr. Badger! How did I know he had a pistol? I tell you it's aserious thing! Before morning, you, and Andrew Jackson, and me may bedead corpses!"

At this awful statement Andrew Jackson burst into a terrified howl. 

"I'll tell you what we'd better do, Mr. Badger. We'll go into our roomand lock ourselves in. "

"Let me come in, too, " said Andrew. "He'll kill me! He hates me!"

"Yes, my darling, you may come, too!" said his mother. 

So the valiant three locked themselves up in a chamber and listenednervously. 

But Tom Tapley was already out of the house. He made his escape over theroof, fearing that the neighborhood would be roused and his safetyendangered. 

So passed a night of unparalleled excitement in the Badger homestead. 

CHAPTER XXX

ATTACKED IN THE REAR

Early the next morning the three Badgers held a council of war. 

It was unanimously decided that something must be done, but what thatsomething should be it was not easy to determine. 

Mr. Badger suggested that the town constable should be summoned. 

"The boy has committed assault and battery upon our persons, Mrs. Badger, " he said, "and it is proper that he should be arrested. "

"Shall I go for the constable?" asked Andrew Jackson. "I should like tohave him put in jail. Then we should be safe. "

"The constable would not be up so early, Andrew. "

"Besides, " said Mrs. Badger, "we shall be laughed at for not being ableto take care of a single small-sized boy. "

"You know what he is capable of, Mrs. Badger. At least you did when youcame flyin' down the attic stairs into my arms!"

"Shut up, Mr. Badger, " said his wife, who was ashamed when sheremembered her panic. "You'd better not say anything. He got you on thefloor and pounded you--you a full-grown man!"

"I'd like to pound him!" said Badger, setting his teeth hard. 

"It's a pity if three of us can't manage him without calling in aconstable, " continued Mrs. Badger, who, on the whole, had more couragethan her husband. 

"What do you propose, wife?" asked Nathan. 

"I propose that we all go up and seize him. He is probably asleep andcan't give any trouble. We can tie him hand and foot before he wakesup. "

"Capital!" said Mr. Badger, who was wonderfully assured by the thoughtthat his young enemy might be asleep. "We'll go right up. "

"He may be awake!" suggested Andrew Jackson. 

"True. We must go well armed. I'll carry the gun. It will do to knockthe pistol out of his hand before he gets a chance to use it. "

"Perhaps so, " assented Mrs. Badger. 

"And you, Andrew Jackson, what can you take?"

"I'll take the poker, " said the heroic Andrew. 

"Very good! We had better arm ourselves as soon as possible or he maywake up. By the way, Mr. Badger, where is the ball of twine? It will beuseful to tie the boy's hands. "

"If his hands are tied he can't work. "

"No, but I will only keep them tied while I give him a thrashing. Youcan take possession of his pistol and hide it. When he is thoroughlysubdued we will untie him and send him to work. "

"Without his breakfast?" suggested Andrew. 

"No, he has already fasted since yesterday morning, and it may make himdesperate. He shall have some breakfast, and that will give him strengthto work. "

Andrew Jackson was rather disappointed at the decision that Bill was tohave breakfast, but on this point he did not venture to oppose hisfather. 

The plan of campaign having been decided upon, it only remained to carryit out. 

Mr. Badger took the old musket and headed the procession. His wifeslipped downstairs and returned with the kitchen broom and a poker. Thelast she put in the hands of her son. 

"Use it, Andrew Jackson, if occasion requires. You may be called upon todefend your father and mother. Should such be the case, do not flinch, but behave like a hero. "

"I will, ma!" exclaimed Andrew, fired perhaps by the example of thegreat general after whom he was named. "But you and pa must tackle himfirst. "

"We will!" exclaimed the intrepid matron. "The disgraceful scenes oflast evening must not again be enacted. This time we march to certainvictory. Mr. Badger, go on, and I will follow. "

The three, in the order arranged, advanced to the foot of the stairs, and Mr. Badger slowly and cautiously mounted them, pausing before thedoor of the room that contained, as he supposed, the desperate boy. 

"Shall I speak to him before entering?" he asked in a tone ofindecision, turning back to his wife. 

"Certainly not; it will put him on his guard. Keep as still as you can. We want to surprise him. "

To account for what followed it must be stated that Dick Schmidtawakened his visitor early and the two went down to breakfast. Mr. Schmidt was going to the market town and found it necessary to breakfastat five o'clock. This happened fortunately for Bill, as he was able toobtain a much better breakfast there than at home. 

When breakfast was over he said soberly:

"Dick, I must go back. "

"Why do you go back at all?" said Dick impulsively. 

"I must. It is the only home I have. "

"I wish you could stay with me. "

"So do I, but Mr. Badger would come after me. "

"I suppose he would. Do you think he will flog you?"

"I am sure he will. "

"I'd like to flog him--the brute! Don't take it too hard, Bill. You'llbe a man some time, and then no one can punish you. "

Poor Bill! As he took his lonely way back to the house of his tyrannicalemployer in the early morning he could not help wishing that he wasalready a man and his days of thraldom were over. He was barely sixteen. Five long, weary years lay before him. 

"I'll try to stand it, though it's hard, " murmured Bill. "I suppose he'svery mad because I wasn't home last night. But I'm glad I went. I hadtwo good meals and a quiet night's sleep. "

It was not long before he came in sight of home. 

Probably no one was up in the Badger household. Usually Bill was thefirst to get up and Mrs. Badger next, for Andrew Jackson and his fatherwere neither of them fond of early rising. 

The front and back doors were no doubt locked, but Bill knew how to getin. 

He went to the shed, raised a window and clambered in. 

"Perhaps I can get up to my room without anybody hearing me, " hereflected. 

He passed softly through the front room into the entry and up the frontstairs. All was quiet. Bill concluded that no one was up. He came to thefoot of the attic stairs, and his astonished gaze rested on the threeBadgers, armed respectively with a gun, a broom and a poker, all ontheir way to his room. 

"Were they going to murder me?" he thought. 

Just then Andrew Jackson, who led the rear, and was therefore nearest toBill, looked back and saw the terrible foe within three feet of him. 

He uttered a loud yell, and, scarcely knowing what he was about, broughtdown the poker with force on his mother's back, at the same timecrying:

"There he is, ma!"

Mrs. Badger, in her flurry, struck her husband with the broom, while herhusband, equally panic-stricken, fired the musket. It was overloaded, and, as a natural result, "kicked, " overthrowing Mr. Badger, who in hisdownward progress carried with him his wife and son. 

Astonished and terrified, Bill turned and fled, leaving the house in thesame way he entered it. He struck across the fields and in that momentdecided that he would never return to Mr. Badger unless he was draggedthere. He felt sure that if he did he would be murdered. 

He had no plans except to get away. He saw Dick Schmidt, bade him ahurried good-by and took the road toward the next town. 

For three days he traveled, indebted to compassionate farmers for food. But excitement and fatigue finally overcame him, and he sank by theroadside, about fifty miles from the town of Dexter, whence he hadstarted on his pilgrimage. 

CHAPTER XXXI

BILL BENTON FINDS A FRIEND

Late one afternoon Robert Coverdale reached Columbus on his Westerntrip. The next day he was to push on to the town of Dexter, where he hadinformation that the boy of whom he was in search lived. 

The train, however, did not leave till eleven o'clock in the forenoon, and Robert felt justified in devoting his leisure hours to seeing whathe could of the city and its surroundings. 

He took an early breakfast and walked out into the suburbs. 

As he strolled along a little boy, about seven years old, ran to meethim. 

"Please, mister, " he said, "won't you come quick? There's a boy layin'by the road back there, and I guess he's dead!"

Robert needed no second appeal. His heart was warm and he liked to helpothers when he could. 

"Show me where, bub, " he said. 

The little fellow turned and ran back, Robert keeping pace with him. 

By the roadside, stretched out, pale and with closed eyes, lay the poorbound boy, known as Bill Benton. 

He was never very strong, and the scanty fare to which he had beenconfined had sapped his physical strength. 

Robert, at first sight, thought he was dead. He bent down and put hishand upon the boy's heart. It was beating, though faintly. 

"Is he dead, mister?" asked the boy. 

"No, but he has fainted away. Is there any water near by?"

Yes, there was a spring close at hand, the little boy said. 

Robert ran to it, soaked his handkerchief in it, and, returning, lavedthe boy's face. The result was encouraging. 

Bill opened his eyes and asked in a wondering tone:

"Where am I?"

"You are with a friend, " said Robert soothingly. "How do you feel?"

"I am very tired and weak, " murmured Bill. 

"Are you traveling?"

"Yes. "

"Where?"

"I don't know. "

Robert thought that the boy's mind might be wandering, but continued:

"Have you no friends in Columbus?"

"No. I have no friends anywhere!" answered Bill sorrowfully, "exceptDick Schmidt. "

"I suppose Dick is a boy?"

"Yes. "

"Where have you been living?"

"You won't take me back there?" said Bill uneasily. 

"I won't take you anywhere where you don't want to go. I want to be yourfriend, if you will let me. "

"I should like a friend, " answered Bill slowly. Then, examining thekind, boyish face that was bent over him, he said, "I like you. "

"Have you had anything to eat to-day?" asked Robert. 

"No. "

"Will you go with me to my hotel?"

"I have no money. "

"Poor boy!" thought Robert, "it is easy enough to see that. "

Bill's ragged clothes were assurance enough of the truth of what hesaid. 

"I must take care of this poor boy, " thought Robert. "It will delay me, but I can't leave him. "

He heard the sound of approaching wheels, and, looking up, saw a manapproaching in a wagon. Robert signaled him to stop. 

"I want to take this boy to the hotel, " he said, "but he has notstrength enough to walk. Will you take us aboard? I will pay you a fairprice. "

"Poor little chap! He looks sick, that's a fact!" said the kind-heartedcountryman. "Yes, I'll give you both a lift, and I won't ask a cent. "

There was some surprise felt at the hotel when Robert appeared with hisnew-found friend. Some of the servants looked askance at the raggedclothes, but Robert said quietly:

"I will pay for him, " and no objection was made. 

When Bill was undressed and put to bed and had partaken of a refreshingbreakfast he looked a great deal brighter and seemed much morecheerful. 

"You are very kind, " he said to Robert. 

"I hope somebody would do as much for me if I needed it, " answeredRobert. "Do you mind telling me about yourself?"

"I will tell anything you wish, " said Bill, who now felt perfectconfidence in his new friend. 

"What is your name?"

"Bill Benton; at any rate, that's what they call me. "

"Don't you think it's your real name, then?"

"No. "

"Have you any remembrance of your real name?" asked Robert, not dreamingof the answer he would receive. 

"When I was a little boy they called me Julian, but----"

"Julian!" repeated Robert eagerly. 

"Yes. "

"Can you tell what was your last name?" asked Robert quickly. 

Bill shook his head. 

"No, I don't remember. "

"Tell me, " said Robert, "did you live with a man named Badger in thetown of Dexter?"

The sick boy started and seemed extremely surprised. 

"How did you find out?" he asked. "Did Mr. Badger send you for me?"

"I never saw Mr. Badger in my life. "

Bill--er perhaps I ought to say Julian--looked less anxious. 

"Yes, " he said, "but he treated me badly and I ran away. "

"Did you ever hear of a man named Charles Waldo?"

"Yes, he was the man that sent me to Mr. Badger. "

"It's a clear case!" thought Robert, overjoyed, "I have no doubt nowthat I have found the hermit's son. Poor boy, how he must havesuffered!"

"Julian, " said he, "do you know why I am traveling--what brought mehere? But of course you don't. I came to find you. "

"To find me? But you said----"

"No, it was not Mr. Badger nor Mr. Waldo that sent me. They are yourenemies. The one that sent me is your friend. Julian, how would you liketo have a father?"

"My father is dead. "

"Who told you so?"

"Mr. Waldo. He told Mr. Badger so. "

"He told a falsehood, then. You have a father, and as soon as you arewell enough I'll take you to him. "

"Will he be kind to me?"

"Do not fear. For years he has grieved for you, supposing you dead. Oncerestored to him, you will have everything to make you happy. Your fatheris a rich man, and you won't be overworked again. "

"What is my father's name?" asked Julian. 

"His name is Gilbert Huet. "

"Huet! Yes, that's the name!" exclaimed Julian eagerly. "I remember itnow. My name used to be Julian Huet, but Mr. Waldo was always angrywhenever any one called me by that name, and so he changed it to BillBenton. "

"He must be a great scoundrel, " said Robert. "Now, Julian, I will tellyou my plan. I don't believe there is anything the matter with youexcept the want of rest and good food. You shall have both. You alsowant some new clothes. "

"Yes, " said Julian, looking at the ragged suit which now hung over achair. "I should like some new clothes. "

A doctor was called, who confirmed Robert's opinion. 

"The youngster will be all right in a week or ten days, " he said. "Allhe wants is rest and good living. "

"How soon will he be able to travel?"

"In a week, at the outside. "

During this week Robert's attention was drawn to the following paragraphin a copy of the Dexter Times, a small weekly paper, which he found inthe reading room of the hotel:

 "A DESPERATE YOUNG RUFFIAN. --We understand that a young boy in the service of Mr. Nathan Badger, one of our most respected citizens, has disappeared under very extraordinary circumstances. The evening previous to his departure he made an unprovoked attack upon Mr. And Mrs. Badger, actually throwing Mr. Badger downstairs and firing a pistol at Mrs. Badger. He was a small, slight boy, but the strength he exhibited was remarkable in thus coping successfully with a strong man. Mr. Badger thinks the boy must have been suddenly attacked by insanity of a violent character. "

"What does this mean, Julian?" asked Robert, reading the paragraph tohis young protege. 

"I don't know, " answered Julian, astonished. "I spent the last nightbefore I came away with my friend Dick Schmidt. "

In a few days Julian looked quite another boy. His color began to returnand his thin form to fill out, while his face wore a peaceful and happyexpression. 

In a new and handsome suit of clothes he looked like a young gentlemanand not at all like Bill Benton, the bound boy. He was devotedlyattached to Robert, the more so because he had never before--as far ashis memory went--received so much kindness from any one as from him. 

"Now, " thought Robert, "I am ready to go back to Cook's Harbor andrestore Julian to his father. "

CHAPTER XXXII

ONCE MORE IN COOK'S HARBOR

Various had been the conjectures in Cook's Harbor as to what had becomeof Robert Coverdale. 

Upon this point the hermit was the only person who could have givenauthentic information, but no one thought of applying to him. 

Naturally questions were put to Mrs. Trafton, but she herself had a veryvague idea of Robert's destination, and, moreover, she had been warnednot to be communicative. 

Mr. Jones, the landlord, supposed he had gone to try to raise the amountof his mortgage among distant relatives, but on this point he felt noanxiety. 

"He won't succeed, " said he to his wife; "you may depend on that. Idon't believe he's got any relations that have money, and, even if hehas, they're goin' to think twice before they give a boy two hundreddollars on the security of property they don't know anything about. "

"What do you intend to do with the cottage, Mr. Jones?"

"It's worth five hundred dollars, and I can get more than the interestof five hundred dollars in the way of rent. "

"Is anybody likely to hire it?"

"John Shelton's oldest son talks of getting married. He'll be glad tohire it of me. "

"What's to become of Mrs. Trafton?"

"I don't know and I don't care, " answered the landlord carelessly. "Thelast time I called she was impudent to me; came near ordering me out ofthe house till I made her understand that I had more right to the housethan she had. "

"She puts on a good many airs for a poor woman, " said Mrs. Jones. "It'stoo ridiculous for a woman like her to be proud. "

"If anything, she isn't as bad as that young whelp. Bob Coverdale. Theboy actually told me I wasn't respectful enough to his precious aunt. Iwonder if they'll be respectful to her in the poorhouse--where it'slikely she'll fetch up?"

"I don't see where the boy got money enough to go off, " said Mrs. Jones. 

"He didn't need much to get to Boston or New York. He's probablyblackin' boots or sellin' papers in one of the two. "

"I hope he is. I wonder how that sort of work will suit the younggentleman?"

"To-morrow the time's up, and I shall foreclose the mortgage. I'll fixup the place a little and then offer it to young Shelton. I guess he'llbe willin' to pay me fifty dollars a year rent, and that'll be prettygood interest on my two hundred dollars. "

"Have you given Mrs. Trafton any warning?"

"No, why should I? She knows perfectly well when the time is out, andshe's had time to get the money. If she's got it, well and good, but ifshe hasn't, she can't complain. Oh, there's young Shelton, " said thelandlord, looking out of the window. 

"I'll call him and see if we can make a bargain about renting thecottage. "

"Frank Shelton!" called out Mr. Jones, raising the window. 

The young fisherman paused. 

"Come in; I want to speak to you. "

Frank Shelton turned in from the street and the landlord commenced hisattack. 

"Frank, folks say you're thinkin' of gettin' married?"

"Maybe I shall, " said the young man bashfully. 

"Whereabouts do you cal'late to live?"

"Well, I don't know any place. "

"What do you say to the Widder Trafton's house?"

"Is she goin' to leave?"

"I think she'll have to. Fact is, Frank, I've got a mortgage on theplace which she can't pay, and I'll have to foreclose. You can have itas soon as you want it. "

"How much rent did you cal'late to ask, Mr. Jones?"

"I'd ought to have five dollars a month, but, seein' it's you, " said thepolitic landlord, "you may have it for fifty dollars a year. "

"I'll speak to Nancy about it, " said the young fisherman. "I don't wantto turn Mrs. Trafton out, but if she's got to go, I suppose I might aswell hire the house as any one else. "

"Just so. I tell you, Frank, I'm offerin' you a bargain. "

Just then Frank Shelton, who was looking out of the window, exclaimed insurprise:

"Why, there's Bob Coverdale!"

"Where?"

"He just walked by, with a smaller boy alongside. "

"You don't say so!" uttered Mr. Jones, hardly knowing whether to be glador sorry. "Well, he's come in time to bid good-by to his old home. I'llgo up to-morrow, first thing, and settle this matter. I s'pose they'lltry to beg off, but it won't be any use. "

Robert had written to the hermit from Columbus a letter which conveyedthe glad tidings of his success. It filled the heart of the recluse witha great and abounding joy. 

Life seemed wholly changed for him. Now he felt that he had something tolive for, and he determined to change his course of life entirely. Hewould move to Boston or New York and resume the social position which hehad abandoned. There he would devote himself to the training andeducation of his boy. 

And Robert--yes, he would richly reward the boy who had restored to himthe son lost so long. He would not yet decide what he would do for him, but he felt that there was no reward too great for such a service. 

He knew on what day to expect the two boys, for Robert had informed himby letter. Restless, he waited for the moment which should restore hisson to his arms. He took a position on the beach in front of theentrance to the cave and looked anxiously for the approach of the twoboys. 

No longer was he clad in his hermit dress, but from a trunk he had drawnout a long-disused suit, made for him in other days by a fashionabletailor on Broadway, and he had carefully trimmed and combed hisneglected locks. 

"My boy must not be ashamed of my appearance, " he said proudly. "Myhermit life is over. Henceforth I will live as a man among men. "

Presently his waiting glance was rewarded. Two boys, one of whom herecognized as Robert, descended the cliff and walked briskly toward himon the firm sand beach. 

He did not wait now, but hurried toward them. He fixed his eyes eagerlyupon the second boy. 

Julian had much improved in appearance since we first made hisacquaintance. It does not take long to restore strength and bloom into aboy of sixteen. He was slender still, but the hue of health mantled hischeeks; he was no longer sad, but hopeful, and in his delicate andrefined features his father could see a strong resemblance to the wifehe had lost. 

"Julian!" said Robert Coverdale, "that's your father who is coming. Lethim see that you are glad to meet him. 

"Mr. Huet, " he said, "this is your son. "

"You do not need to tell me. He is too like his mother. Julian, my boy, Heaven be praised that has restored you to me!"

It is hardly to be expected that Julian should feel the rapture thatswelled the father's heart, for the thought of having a father at allwas still new and strange, but it was not long before he learned to lovehim. 

The poor boy had received so little kindness that his father's warmaffection touched his heart, and he felt glad and happy to have such aprotector. 

"God bless and reward you, Robert!" said Mr. Huet, taking the hand ofour hero. "You shall find that I am not ungrateful for this greatservice. I want to talk to my boy alone for a time, but I will come toyour aunt's house to supper with Julian. Please tell her so, and ask herto let it be a good one. "

"I will, Mr. Huet. "

From Julian his father drew the story of his years of hardship and illtreatment, and his heart was stirred with indignation as he thought ofthe cruelty of the relative who had subjected him and his son to thatlong period of grief and suffering. 

"Your trials are over now, Julian, " he said. "You will be content tolive with me, will you not?"

"Will Robert live with us?" asked the boy. 

"Do you like Robert?" asked his father. 

"I love him like a brother, " said Julian impulsively. "You don't knowhow kind he has been to me, father!"

"Yes, Robert shall live with us, if he will, " said Mr. Huet. "I willspeak about it to him tomorrow. "

"Will you live here, father?"

"Oh, no! You must be educated. I shall take you to Boston or New York, and there you shall have every advantage that money can procure. Hitherto I have not cared to be rich. Now, Julian, I value money foryour sake. "

Together they went to Mrs. Trafton's cottage to supper. 

"What makes you look so sober, Robert?" asked Mr. Huet, observing thatthe boy looked grave. 

"I have heard that Mr. Jones will foreclose his mortgage to-morrow. "

"Not if you pay it, " said Mr. Huet quietly. "Come with me after supper, and I will hand you all the money you require. "

Robert was about to express his gratitude, but Mr. Huet stopped him. 

"You owe me no thanks, " he said. "It is only the first installment of agreat debt which I can never wholly repay. "

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE LANDLORD'S DEFEAT

About ten o'clock the next morning Mr. Nahum Jones approached theTrafton cottage. 

Sitting on a bench outside was Robert Coverdale, whittling. He had puton his old clothes, intending it to be for the last time. He wanted tosurprise Mr. Jones. 

"There's Bob Coverdale, " said Mr. Jones to himself. "He don't look muchas if he was able to pay the mortgage. I guess I've got the place fastenough. "

"Is your aunt at home, young man?" he asked pompously. 

"Yes, " answered Robert, continuing to whittle. 

"You might say 'yes, sir. '"

"All right. I'll remember next time. "

"You'd better. Tell your aunt I want to see her--on business, "emphasizing the last two words. 

"Come right in, sir. "

Mr. Jones, with a patronizing air, entered the house of which he alreadyconsidered himself the proprietor. 

Mrs. Trafton was engaged in making a pudding, for she had two boardersnow, Julian and his father, who were to take their meals in thefisherman's cottage till they got ready to leave Cook's Harbor. 

"Good mornin', ma'am, " said Mr. Jones. 

"Good morning. Will you take a seat?" she said quietly. 

"I can't stay long, Mrs. Trafton. I called on a little matter ofbusiness. "

"Very well, sir. "

"I suppose you understand what it is?"

"Perhaps I do, but you had better explain. "

"I have made up my mind to foreclose the mortgage I hold on this place, and I should like to have you move out within three days, as I am goingto let it. "

"Indeed! To whom do you intend to let it?"

"To Frank Shelton. He's goin' to be married, and this house will suithim. "

"And what am I to do, Mr. Jones? You surely do not mean to depriveRobert and me of our home?"

"It isn't yours any longer, or won't be. Of course, you can't expect tostay here. I haven't forgotten how you talked to me when I was herebefore nor how impudent your boy was. "

"Meaning me?" asked Robert with a grave face. 

"Of course I mean you!" said Mr. Jones sharply. 

"I haven't said anything impudent to you to-day, have I?"

"No, but you'd ought to have thought of that before. It's too latenow!"

"You won't turn us out on the street, will you, Mr. Jones?"

"Haven't I given you three days to stay? If you want my advice, I shouldsay that you'd find a good, comfortable home in the poorhouse. Your boythere might be bound out to a farmer. "

"I don't know any farmer that wants a boy, " said Robert meekly. 

"I'd take you myself, " said Nahum Jones, "if you wasn't so impudent. I'mafraid you're a little too airy for me. "

"Wouldn't you let the house to me, Mr. Jones?" asked the widow. "It'sworth a good deal more than the face of the mortgage. "

"You couldn't get a dollar more, in my opinion, " said the landlord. "Asto takin' you for a tenant, I haven't any assurance that you could paythe rent. "

"What rent do you want for it, Mr. Jones?"

"Five dollars a month. "

"Five dollars a month, when you say it's only worth two hundreddollars!"

"I'm goin' to fix it up a little, " said Mr. Jones, rather nonplussed. 

"I think, Mr. Jones, we won't move, " said Robert. 

"Won't move?" ejaculated the landlord, getting red in the face. "You'vegot to move. "

"Who says so?"

"I say so, you young whelp!"

"No hard names, if you please, Mr. Jones. The fact is, my aunt doesn'tfancy going to the poorhouse. To be sure, if she could have your societythere it might make a difference. "

"You'll repent this impudence, Bob Coverdale!"

"How am I impudent?"

"To talk of my being in the poorhouse!"

"You spoke of Aunt Jane going to the poorhouse. "

"That's a different matter. "

"At any rate, she won't go!" said Robert decidedly. 

"Won't? We'll see about that. How are you going to help it?"

"By paying the mortgage, " answered Robert quietly. 

"You can't do it, " said Mr. Jones, his jaw drooping. 

"You are mistaken, Mr. Jones. If you'll write a receipt, I am ready topay it now--principal and interest. "

Robert drew out a roll of bills from the pocket of his ragged vest andbegan to count them. 

"Where did you get this money?" ejaculated the landlord. 

"I must decline telling you, Mr. Jones. It's good money, as you can see. I think you'll have to tell Frank Shelton he can't have the house unlesshe wants to hire of my aunt. "

Nahum Jones hated to take the money that was offered him, but there wasno loophole to escape. The good bargain was slipping from his grasp. Thetriumphant look faded from his face, and he looked exceedingly ill atease. 

"I'll come up with you for this, Bob Coverdale!" he muttered angrily. 

"For what? Paying you money, Mr. Jones?"

"You know what I mean. "

"Yes, I do know what you mean, " returned the boy gravely. "This money isin payment for liquor furnished to my poor uncle--liquor which broke upthe happiness of his home and finally led to his death. You laid a plotto deprive my aunt, whom you had so much injured, of her home, but youhave been defeated. We don't care to have anything more to do withyou. "

There is no need of recording the landlord's ill-natured answer. He wasangry and humiliated, and, when he got home, snapped up Mrs. Jones whenshe began to make inquiries about the new property. He felt the worsebecause he had been defeated by a boy. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

HOW IT ENDED

"Robert, " said Gilbert Huet later in the day, "next week Julian and I goto Boston, where we shall try to make a home for ourselves. "

Robert looked sober. 

"I shall feel very lonely without you, " he said. 

"You are to go, too, Robert, " said Julian quickly. 

"If you will. Julian wants your society, and so do I. "

Robert's face flushed with eager delight. 

"But my aunt?" he said. 

"I have been speaking to your aunt. In fact, I invited her to accompanyus, but she says she is used to Cook's Harbor and cannot leave it. "

"I don't like to leave her alone. "

"Then I'll tell you what you can do. I understand that young FrankShelton is seeking for a home where he can take his promised wife. Iadvise you to enlarge the cottage, putting on another story and perhapsan L also. This will give you plenty of room for your aunt and the youngcouple, who will be company for her. "

"Yes, " said Mrs. Trafton, "I always liked Frank Shelton and his wifethat is to be. The arrangement will be very agreeable to me. "

"But, " objected Robert, "how can I build an addition to the house? Ihave no money. "

"I beg your pardon, " said Mr. Huet, smiling, "but I don't think a younggentleman worth ten thousand dollars can truthfully say he has no money. I hope, Robert, you are not growing mean. "

"Ten thousand dollars!" ejaculated Robert, his eyes wide open withamazement. 

"Certainly. "

"I don't understand you, Mr. Huet. "

"Then perhaps you will understand this. "

Mr. Huet handed Robert a slip of paper, which proved to be a check onthe Merchants' Bank, of Boston, for the sum of ten thousand dollars, payable to Robert Coverdale or order. It was signed by Gilbert Huet. 

"You see, you are rich, Robert, " said Julian, smiling with joy at hisfriend's good fortune. 

"Oh, Mr. Huet, I don't deserve this, " said Robert, his heart full. 

"You must let me judge of that, my dear boy. Say no more or you will bedepreciating Julian's value. You have restored him to me, and I considerhim worth much more than ten thousand dollars. "

Of course, Robert joyfully accepted the munificent gift so cordiallyoffered. By Mr. Huet's advice, he invested the money in gooddividend-paying securities and monthly sent his aunt twenty-fivedollars, which, with the rent, made her quite easy in hercircumstances. 

The additions were made to the cottage, and Frank Shelton and his wifewere glad to hire the house, thus providing Mrs. Trafton with society aswell as adding to her income. 

As for Robert, henceforth he shared in all the educational advantageswhich Julian enjoyed. 

Mr. Huet took a house, engaged an excellent housekeeper and at lengthenjoyed a home. 

One letter he wrote to Charles Waldo--a scathing letter denouncing himfor his infamous conduct and threatening severe punishment if he everagain conspired against his happiness. Mr. Waldo did not answer theletter for very shame. What excuse or apology could he possibly offer?

Three years later Robert and Julian made a vacation journey westward. 

"I should like to call on my old friend Nathan Badger, " said Julian. 

"So should I, " said Robert. "I want to see how he looks. "

The Badgers could not at first be convinced that the elegant younggentleman, introduced as Julian Huet, was no other than the bound boy, Bill Benton; but he recalled so many incidents of his past life thatthey credited it at last. 

"You were always a favorite of mine, Bill--I mean Mr. Julian!" said thefarmer, who had a wonderful respect for wealth. 

"And of mine!" chimed in Mrs. Badger. "And I'm sure my Andrew Jacksonloved you like a brother. "

Andrew Jackson, a gawky youth, no more prepossessing than his boyhoodpromised, winked hard and looked enviously at Julian. 

When the latter drew from his pocket a silver watch and chain and askedAndrew to accept it for old acquaintance sake he was quite overcome andsaid he liked Julian "better than any feller he knew!"

"Then you forgive me for hitting you with a hoe, Andrew?" said Juliansmilingly. 

"I don't care for that, " said Andrew Jackson stoutly, "and I guess youmore'n got even with us that time you stayed with Dick Schmidt andfather tried to thrash a tramp--thinking it was you--and got thrashedhimself!"

Then Andrew Jackson fixed an admiring glance on the watch he had covetedso long. 

"Boys will be boys!" said Mr. Badger with a fatherly smile. "AndrewJackson don't have no ill feelings. "

It was the way of the world. Julian was rich now and had plenty offriends. But he had one true friend whom money could not buy, and thiswas Robert Coverdale, the young fisherman of Coolers Harbor, prosperoushenceforth and happy, as he well deserved to be. 

THE END

A. L. Burt's Catalogue of Books for Young People by Popular Writers, 52-58 Duane Street, New York

BOOKS FOR BOYS. 

Joe's Luck: A Boy's Adventures in California, By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

The story is chock fall of stirring incidents, while the amusingsituations are furnished by Joshua Bickford, from Pumpkin Hollow, andthe fellow who modestly styles himself the "Rip-tail Roarer, from PikeCo. , Missouri. " Mr. Alger never writes a poor book, and "Joe's Luck" iscertainly one of his best. 

Tom the Bootblack; or, The Road to Success. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

A bright, enterprising lad was Tom the Bootblack. He was not at allashamed of his humble calling, though always on the lookout to betterhimself. The lad started for Cincinnati to look up his heritage. Mr. Grey, the uncle, did not hesitate to employ a ruffian to kill the lad. The plan failed, and Gilbert Grey, once Tom the bootblack, came into acomfortable fortune. This is one of Mr. Alger's best stories. 

Dan the Newsboy. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price$1. 00. 

Dan Mordaunt and his mother live in a poor tenement, and the lad ispluckily trying to make ends meet by selling papers in the streets ofNew York. A little heiress of six years is confided to the care of theMordaunts. The child is kidnapped and Dan tracks the child to the housewhere she is hidden, and rescues her. The wealthy aunt of the littleheiress is so delighted with Dan's courage and many good qualities thatshe adopts him as her heir. 

Tony the Hero: A Brave Boy's Adventure with a Tramp. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Tony, a sturdy bright-eyed boy of fourteen, is under the control ofRudolph Rugg, a thorough rascal. After much abuse Tony runs away andgets a job as stable boy in a country hotel. Tony is heir to a largeestate. Rudolph for a consideration hunts up Tony and throws him down adeep well. Of course Tony escapes from the fate provided for him, and bya brave act, a rich friend secures his rights and Tony is prosperous. Avery entertaining book. 

The Errand Boy; or. How Phil Brent Won Success. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth illustrated, price $1. 00. 

The career of "The Errand Boy" embraces the city adventures of a smartcountry lad. Philip was brought up by a kind-hearted innkeeper namedBrent. The death of Mrs. Brent paved the way for the hero's subsequenttroubles. A retired merchant in New York secures him the situation oferrand boy, and thereafter stands as his friend. 

Tom Temple's Career. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Tom Temple is a bright, self-reliant lad. He leaves Plympton village toseek work in New York, whence he undertakes an important mission toCalifornia. Some of his adventures in the far west are so startling thatthe reader will scarcely close the book until the last page shall havebeen reached. The tale is written in Mr. Alger's most fascinatingstyle. 

Frank Fowler, the Cash Boy. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Frank Fowler, a poor boy, bravely determines to make a living forhimself and his foster-sister Grace. Going to New York he obtains asituation as cash boy in a dry goods store. He renders a service to awealthy old gentleman who takes a fancy to the lad, and thereafter helpsthe lad to gain success and fortune. 

Tom Thatcher's Fortune. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Tom Thatcher is a brave, ambitious, unselfish boy. He supports hismother and sister on meagre wages earned as a shoe-pegger in JohnSimpson's factory. Tom is discharged from the factory and startsoverland for California. He meets with many adventures. The story istold in a way which has made Mr. Alger's name a household word in somany homes. 

The Train Boy. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price$1. 00. 

Paul Palmer was a wide-awake boy of sixteen who supported his mother andsister by selling books and papers on the Chicago and MilwaukeeRailroad. He detects a young man in the act of picking the pocket of ayoung lady. In a railway accident many passengers are killed, but Paulis fortunate enough to assist a Chicago merchant, who out of gratitudetakes him into his employ. Paul succeeds with tact and judgment and iswell started on the road to business prominence. 

Mark Mason's Victory. The Trials and Triumphs of a Telegraph Boy. ByHORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Mark Mason, the telegraph boy, was a sturdy, honest lad, who pluckilywon his way to success by his honest manly efforts under manydifficulties. This story will please the very large class of boys whoregard Mr. Alger as a favorite author. 

A Debt of Honor. The Story of Gerald Lane's Success in the Far West. ByHORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

The story of Gerald Lane and the account of the many trials anddisappointments which he passed through before he attained success, willinterest all boys who have read the previous stories of this delightfulauthor. 

Ben Bruce. Scenes in the Life of a Bowery Newsboy. By HORATIO ALGER, JR. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Ben Bruce was a brave, manly, generous boy. The story of his efforts, and many seeming failures and disappointments, and his final success, are most interesting to all readers. The tale is written in Mr. Alger'smost fascinating style. 

The Castaways; or, On the Florida Reefs. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

This tale smacks of the salt sea. From the moment that the Sea Queenleaves lower New York bay till the breeze leaves her becalmed off thecoast of Florida, one can almost hear the whistle of the wind throughher rigging, the creak of her straining cordage as she heels to theleeward. The adventures of Ben Clark, the hero of the story and Jake thecook, cannot fail to charm the reader. As a writer for young people Mr. Otis is a prime favorite. 

Wrecked on Spider Island; or, How Ned Rogers Found the Treasure. ByJAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Ned Rogers, a "down-east" plucky lad ships as cabin boy to earn alivelihood. Ned is marooned on Spider Island, and while there discoversa wreck submerged in the sand, and finds a considerable amount oftreasure. The capture of the treasure and the incidents of the voyageserve to make as entertaining a story of sea-life as the most captiousboy could desire. 

The Search for the Silver City: A Tale of Adventure in Yucatan. By JAMESOTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Two lads, Teddy Wright and Neal Emery, embark on the steam yacht DayDream for a cruise to the tropics. The yacht is destroyed by fire, andthen the boat is cast upon the coast of Yucatan. They hear of thewonderful Silver City, of the Chan Santa Cruz Indians, and with the helpof a faithful Indian ally carry off a number of the golden images fromthe temples. Pursued with relentless vigor at last their escape iseffected in an astonishing manner. The story is so full of excitingincidents that the reader is quite carried away with the novelty andrealism of the narrative. 

A Runaway Brig; or, An Accidental Cruise. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

This is a sea tale, and the reader can look out upon the wide shimmeringsea as it flashes back the sunlight, and imagine himself afloat withHarry Vandyne, Walter Morse, Jim Libby and that old shell-back, BobBrace, on the brig Bonita. The boys discover a mysterious document whichenables them to find a buried treasure. They are stranded on an islandand at last are rescued with the treasure. The boys are sure to befascinated with this entertaining story. 

The Treasure Finders: A Boy's Adventures in Nicaragua. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Roy and Dean Coloney, with their guide Tongla, leave their father'sindigo plantation to visit the wonderful ruins of an ancient city. Theboys eagerly explore the temples of an extinct race and discover threegolden images cunningly hidden away. They escape with the greatestdifficulty. Eventually they reach safety with their golden prizes. Wedoubt if there ever was written a more entertaining story than "TheTreasure Finders. "

Jack, the Hunchback. A Story of the Coast of Maine. By JAMES OTIS. Price$1. 00. 

This is the story of a little hunchback who lived on Cape Elizabeth, onthe coast of Maine. His trials and successes are most interesting. Fromfirst to last nothing stays the interest of the narrative. It bears usalong as on a stream whose current varies in direction, but never losesits force. 

With Washington at Monmouth: A Story of Three Philadelphia Boys. ByJAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price$1. 50. 

Three Philadelphia lads assist the American spies and make regular andfrequent visits to Valley Forge in the Winter while the British occupiedthe city. The story abounds with pictures of Colonial life skillfullydrawn, and the glimpses of Washington's soldiers which are given shownthat the work has not been hastily done, or without considerable study. The story is wholesome and patriotic in tone, as are all of Mr. Otis'works. 

With Lafayette at Yorktown: A Story of How Two Boys Joined theContinental Army, By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1. 50. 

Two lads from Portsmouth, N. H. , attempt to enlist in the Colonial Army, and are given employment as spies. There is no lack of excitingincidents which the youthful reader craves, but it is healthfulexcitement brimming with facts which every boy should be familiar with, and while the reader is following the adventures of Ben Jaffrays and NedAllen he is acquiring a fund of historical lore which will remain in hismemory long after that which he has memorized from textbooks has beenforgotten. 

The Siege of Havana. Being the Experiences of Three Boys Serving underIsrael Putnam in 1762. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivineedges, illustrated, price $1. 50. 

"At the Siege of Havana" deals with that portion of the island's historywhen the English king captured the capital, thanks to the assistancegiven by the troops from New England, led in part by Col. IsraelPutnam. 

The principal characters are Darius Lunt, the lad who, represented astelling the story, and his comrades, Robert Clement and Nicholas Vallet. Colonel Putnam also figures to considerable extent, necessarily, in thetale, and the whole forms one of the most readable stories founded onhistorical facts. 

The Defense of Fort Henry. A Story of Wheeling Creek in 1777. By JAMESOTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1. 50. 

Nowhere in the history of our country can be found more heroic orthrilling incidents than in the story of those brave men and women whofounded the settlement of Wheeling in the Colony of Virginia. Therecital of what Elizabeth Zane did is in itself as heroic a story as canbe imagined. The wondrous bravery displayed by Major McCulloch and hisgallant comrades, the sufferings of the colonists and their sacrifice ofblood and life, stir the blood of old as well as young readers. 

The Capture of the Laughing Mary. A Story of Three New York Boys in1776. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 50. 

"During the British occupancy of New York, at the outbreak of theRevolution, a Yankee lad hears of the plot to take General Washington'sperson, and calls in two companions to assist the patriot cause. They dosome astonishing things, and, incidentally, lay the way for an Americannavy later, by the exploit which gives its name to the work. Mr. Otis'books are too well known to require any particular commendation to theyoung. "--Evening Post. 

With Warren at Bunker Hill. A Story of the Siege of Boston. By JAMESOTIS. 12mo, ornamental cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"This is a tale of the siege of Boston, which opens on the day after thedoings at Lexington and Concord, with a description of home life inBoston, introduces the reader to the British camp at Charlestown, showsGen. Warren at home, describes what a boy thought of the battle ofBunker Hill, and closes with the raising of the siege. The three heroes, George Wentworth, Ben Scarlett and an old ropemaker incur the enmity ofa young Tory, who causes them many adventures the boys will like toread. "--Detroit Free Press. 

With the Swamp Fox. The Story of General Marion's Spies. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

This story deals with General Francis Marion's heroic struggle in theCarolinas. General Marion's arrival to take command of these brave menand rough riders is pictured as a boy might have seen it, and althoughthe story is devoted to what the lads did, the Swamp Fox is ever presentin the mind of the reader. 

On the Kentucky Frontier. A Story of the Fighting Pioneers of the West. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

In the history of our country there is no more thrilling story than thatof the work done on the Mississippi river by a handful of frontiersmen. Mr. Otis takes the reader on that famous expedition from the arrival ofMajor Clarke's force at Corn Island, until Kaskaskia was captured. Herelates that part of Simon Kenton's life history which is not usuallytouched upon either by the historian or the story teller. This is one ofthe most entertaining books for young people which has been published. 

Sarah Dillard's Ride. A Story of South Carolina in 1780. By JAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"This book deals with the Carolinas in 1780, giving a wealth of detailof the Mountain Men who struggled so valiantly against the king'stroops. Major Ferguson is the prominent British officer of the story, which is told as though coming from a youth who experienced theseadventures. In this way the famous ride of Sarah Dillard is brought outas an incident of the plot. "--Boston Journal. 

A Tory Plot. A Story of the Attempt to Kill General Washington. By JAMESOTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"'A Tory Plot' is the story of two lads who overhear something of theplot originated during the Revolution by Gov. Tryon to capture or murderWashington. They communicate their knowledge to Gen. Putnam and arecommissioned by him to play the role of detectives in the matter. Theydo so, and meet with many adventures and hairbreadth escapes. The boysare, of course, mythical, but they serve to enable the author to putinto very attractive shape much valuable knowledge concerning one phaseof the Revolution. "--Pittsburgh Times. 

A Traitor's Escape. A Story of the Attempt to Seize Benedict Arnold. ByJAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"This is a tale with stirring scenes depicted in each chapter, bringingclearly before the mind the glorious deeds of the early settlers in thiscountry. In an historical work dealing with this country's past, no plotcan hold the attention closer than this one, which describes the attemptand partial success of Benedict Arnold's escape to New York, where heremained as the guest of Sir Henry Clinton. All those who actuallyfigured in the arrest of the traitor, as well as Gen. Washington, areincluded as characters. "--Albany Union. 

A Cruise with Paul Jones. A Story of Naval Warfare in 1776. By JAMESOTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"This story takes up that portion of Paul Jones' adventurous life whenhe was hovering off the British coast, watching for an opportunity tostrike the enemy a blow. It deals more particularly with his descentupon Whitehaven, the seizure of Lady Selkirk's plate, and the famousbattle with the Drake. The boy who figures in the tale is one who wastaken from a derelict by Paul Jones shortly after this particular cruisewas begun. "--Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

Corporal Lige's Recruit. A Story of Crown Point and Ticonderoga. ByJAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1, 00. 

"In 'Corporal Lige's Recruit, ' Mr. Otis tells the amusing story of anold soldier, proud of his record, who had served the king in '58, andwho takes the lad, Isaac Rice, as his 'personal recruit. ' The ladacquits himself superbly. Col. Ethan Allen 'in the name of God and thecontinental congress, ' infuses much martial spirit into the narrative, which will arouse the keenest interest as it proceeds. Crown Point, Ticonderoga, Benedict Arnold and numerous other famous historical namesappear in this dramatic tale. "--Boston Globe. 

Morgan, the Jersey Spy. A Story of the Siege of Yorktown in 1781. ByJAMES OTIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"The two lads who are utilized by the author to emphasize the details ofthe work done during that memorable time were real boys who lived on thebanks of the York River, and who aided the Jersey spy in his dangerousoccupation. In the guise of fishermen the lads visit Yorktown, aresuspected of being spies, and put under arrest. Morgan risks his life tosave them. The final escape, the thrilling encounter with a squad of redcoats, when they are exposed equally to the bullets of friends and foes, told in a masterly fashion, makes of this volume one of the mostentertaining books of the year. "--Inter-Ocean. 

The Young Scout: The Story of a West Point Lieutenant. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

The crafty Apache chief Geronimo but a few years ago was the mostterrible scourge of the southwest border. The author has woven, in atale of thrilling interest, all the incidents of Geronimo's last raid. The hero is Lieutenant James Decker, a recent graduate of West Point. Ambitious to distinguish himself the young man takes many a desperatechance against the enemy and on more than one occasion narrowly escapeswith his life. In our opinion Mr. Ellis is the best writer of Indianstories now before the public. 

Adrift in the Wilds: The Adventures of Two Shipwrecked Boys. By EDWARDS. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Elwood Brandon and Howard Lawrence are en route for San Francisco. Offthe coast of California the steamer takes fire. The two boys reach theshore with several of the passengers. Young Brandon becomes separatedfrom his party and is captured by hostile Indians, but is afterwardsrescued. This is a very entertaining narrative of Southern California. 

A Young Hero; or, Fighting to Win. By EDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo. Cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

This story tells how a valuable solid silver service was stolen from theMisses Perkiupine, two very old and simple minded ladies. Fred Sheldon, the hero of this story, undertakes to discover the thieves and have themarrested. After much time spent in detective work, he succeeds indiscovering the silver plate and winning the reward. The story is toldin Mr. Ellis' most fascinating style. Every boy will be glad to readthis delightful book. 

Lost in the Rockies. A Story of Adventure in the Rocky Mountains. ByEDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, andat the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experiencedbreathless enjoyment in this romantic story describing many adventuresin the Rockies and among the Indians. 

A Jaunt Through Java: The Story of a Journey to the Sacred Mountain. ByEDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

The interest of this story is found in the thrilling adventures of twocousins, Hermon and Eustace Hadley, on their trip across the island ofJava, from Samarang to the Sacred Mountain. In a land where the RoyalBengal tiger, the rhinoceros, and other fierce beasts are to be metwith, it is but natural that the heroes of this book should have alively experience. There is not a dull page in the book. 

The Boy Patriot. A Story of Jack, the Young Friend of Washington. ByEDWARD S. ELLIS. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, illustrated, price $1. 50. 

"There are adventures of ail kinds for the hero and his friends, whosepluck and ingenuity in extricating themselves from awkward fixes arealways equal to the occasion. It is an excellent story full of honest, manly, patriotic efforts on the part of the hero. A very vividdescription of the battle of Trenton is also found in thisstory. "--Journal of Education. 

A Yankee Lad's Pluck. How Bert Larkin Saved his Father's Ranch in PortoRico. By WM. P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"Bert Larkin, the hero of the story, early excites our admiration, andis altogether a fine character such as boys will delight in, whilst thestory of his numerous adventures is very graphically told. This will, wethink, prove one of the most popular boys' books this season. "--Gazette. 

A Brave Defense. A Story of the Massacre at Fort Griswold in 1781. ByWILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00

Perhaps no more gallant fight against fearful odds took place during theRevolutionary War than that at Fort Griswold, Groton Heights, Conn. , in1781. The boys are real boys who were actually on the muster rolls, either at Fort Trumbull on the New London side, or of Fort Griswold onthe Groton side of the Thames. The youthful reader who follows HalseySanford and Levi Dart and Tom Malleson, and their equally bravecomrades, through their thrilling adventures will be learning somethingmore than historical facts; they will be imbibing lessons of fidelity, of bravery, of heroism, and of manliness, which must prove serviceablein the arena of life. 

The Young Minuteman. A Story of the Capture of General Prescott in 1777. By WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

This story is based upon actual events which occurred during the Britishoccupation of the waters of Narragansett Bay. Darius Wale and WilliamNorthrop belong to "the coast patrol. " The story is a strong one, dealing only with actual events. There is, however, no lack of thrillingadventure, and every lad who is fortunate enough to obtain the book willfind not only that his historical knowledge is increased, but that hisown patriotism and love of country are deepened. 

For the Temple: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations by's. J. SOLOMON. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00

"Mr. Henty's graphic prose picture of the hopeless Jewish resistance toRoman sway adds another leaf to his record of the famous wars of theworld. The book is one of Mr. Henty's cleverest efforts. "--Graphic. 

Roy Gilbert's Search: A Tale of the Great Lakes. By WM. P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

A deep mystery hangs over the parentage of Roy Gilbert. He arranges withtwo schoolmates to make a tour of the Great Lakes on a steam launch. Thethree boys visit many points of interest on the lakes. Afterwards thelads rescue an elderly gentleman and a lady from a sinking yacht. Lateron the boys narrowly escape with their lives. The hero is a manly, self-reliant boy, whose adventures will be followed with interest. 

The Slate Picker: The Story of a Boy's Life in the Coal Mines. By HARRYPRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

This is a story of a boy's life in the coal mines of Pennsylvania. BenBurton, the hero, had a hard road to travel, but by grit and energy headvanced step by step until he found himself called upon to fill theposition of chief engineer of the Kohinoor Coal Company. This is a bookof extreme interest to every boy reader. 

The Boy Cruisers; or, Paddling in Florida. By ST. GEORGE RATHBORNE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Andrew George and Rowland Carter start on a canoe trip along the Gulfcoast, from Key West to Tampa, Florida. Their first adventure is with apair of rascals who steal their boats. Next they run into a gale in theGulf. After that they have a lively time with alligators and Andrew getsinto trouble with a band of Seminole Indians. Mr. Rathborne knows justhow to interest the boys, and lads who are in search of a rare treatwill do well to read this entertaining story. 

Captured by Zulus: A Story of Trapping in Africa. By HARRY PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

This story details the adventures of two lads, Dick Elsworth and BobHarvey, in the wilds of South Africa. By stratagem the Zulus captureDick and Bob and take them to their principal kraal or village. The ladsescape death by digging their way out of the prison hut by night. Theyare pursued, but the Zulus finally give up pursuit. Mr. Prentice tellsexactly how wild-beast collectors secure specimens on their nativestamping grounds, and these descriptions make very entertainingreading. 

Tom the Ready; or, Up from the Lowest. By RANDOLPH HILL. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

This is a dramatic narrative of the unaided rise of a fearless, ambitious boy from the lowest round of fortune's ladder to wealth andthe governorship of his native State. Tom Seacomb begins life with apurpose, and eventually overcomes those who oppose him. How he managesto win the battle is told by Mr. Hill in a masterful way that thrillsthe reader and holds his attention and sympathy to the end. 

Captain Kidd's Gold: The True Story of an Adventurous Sailor Boy. ByJAMES FRANKLIN FITTS. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

There is something fascinating to the average youth in the very idea ofburied treasure. A vision arises before his eyes of swarthy Portugueseand Spanish rascals, with black beards and gleaming eyes. There weremany famous sea rovers, but none more celebrated than Capt. Kidd. PaulJones Garry inherits a document which locates a considerable treasureburied by two of Kidd's crew. The hero of this book is an ambitious, persevering lad, of salt-water New England ancestry, and his efforts toreach the island and secure the money form one of the most absorbingtales for our youth that has come from the press. 

The Boy Explorers: The Adventures of Two Boys in Alaska. By HARRYPRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Two boys, Raymond and Spencer Manning, travel to Alaska to join theirfather in search of their uncle. On their arrival at Sitka the boys withan Indian guide set off across the mountains. The trip is fraught withperils that test the lads' courage to the utmost. All through theirexciting adventures the lads demonstrate what can be accomplished bypluck and resolution, and their experience makes one of the mostinteresting tales ever written. 

The Island Treasure; or, Harry Darrel's Fortune. By FRANK K. CONVERSE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Harry Darrel, having received a nautical training on a school-ship, isbent on going to sea. A runaway horse changes his prospects. Harry savesDr. Gregg from drowning and afterward becomes sailing-master of a sloopyacht. Mr. Converse's stories possess a charm of their own which isappreciated by lads who delight in good healthy tales that smack of saltwater. 

Guy Harris: The Runaway. By HARRY CASTLEMON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Guy Harris lived in a small city on the shore of one of the Great Lakes. He is persuaded to go to sea, and gets a glimpse of the rough side oflife in a sailor's boarding house. He ships on a vessel and for fivemonths leads a hard life. The book will interest boys generally onaccount of its graphic style. This is one of Castlemon's most attractivestories. 

Julian Mortimer: A Brave Boy's Struggle for Home and Fortune. By HARRYCASTLEMON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

The scene of the story lies west of the Mississippi River, in the dayswhen emigrants made their perilous way across the great plains to theland of gold. There is an attack upon the wagon train by a large partyof Indians. Our hero is a lad of uncommon nerve and pluck. Befriended bya stalwart trapper, a real rough diamond, our hero achieves the mosthappy results. 

By Pike and Dyke: A Tale of the Rise of the Dutch Republic. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by MAYNARD BROWN. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"Boys with a turn for historical research will be enchanted with thebook, while the rest who only care for adventure will be students inspite of themselves. "--St. James's Gazette. 

St. George for England: A Tale of Cressy and Poitiers. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"A story of very great interest for boys. In his own forcible style theauthor has endeavored to show that determination and enthusiasm canaccomplish marvellous results; and that courage is generally accompaniedby magnanimity and gentleness. "--Pall Mall Gazette. 

Captain Bayley's Heir: A Tale of the Gold Fields of California. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by H. M. PAGET. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"Mr. Henty is careful to mingle instruction with entertainment; and thehumorous touches, especially in the sketch of John Holl, the Westminsterdustman, Dickens himself could hardly have excelled. "--ChristianLeader. 

Budd Boyd's Triumph; or, The Boy Firm of Fox Island. By WILLIAM P. CHIPMAN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

The scene of this story is laid on the upper part of Narragansett Bay, and the leading incidents have a strong salt-water flavor. The two boys, Budd Boyd and Judd Floyd, being ambitious and clear sighted, form apartnership to catch and sell fish. Budd's pluck and good sense carryhim through many troubles. In following the career of the boy firm ofBoyd & Floyd, the youthful reader will find a useful lesson thatindustry and perseverance are bound to lead to ultimate success. 

Lost in the Canyon: Sam Willett's Adventures on the Great Colorado. ByALFRED R. CALHOUN, 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

This story hinges on a fortune left to Sam Willett, the hero, and thefact that it will pass to a disreputable relative if the lad dies beforehe shall have reached his majority. The story of his father's peril andof Sam's desperate trip down the great canyon on a raft, and how theparty finally escape from their perils is described in a graphic stylethat stamps Mr. Calhoun as a master of his art. 

Captured by Apes: The Wonderful Adventures of a Young Animal Trainer. ByHARRY PRENTICE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

Philip Garland, a young animal collector and trainer, sets sail forEastern seas in quest of a new stock of living curiosities. The vesselis wrecked off the coast of Borneo, and young Garland is cast ashore ona small island, and captured by the apes that overrun the place. Verynovel indeed is the way by which the young man escapes death. Mr. Prentice is a writer of undoubted skill. 

Under Drake's Flag: A Tale of the Spanish Main. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"There is not a dull chapter, nor, indeed, a dull page in the book; butthe author has so carefully worked up his subject that the excitingdeeds of his heroes are never incongruous nor absurd. "--Observer. 

By Sheer Pluck: A Tale of the Ashanti War. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

The author has woven, in a tale of thrilling interest, all the detailsof the Ashanti campaign, of which he was himself a witness. 

"Mr. Henty keeps up his reputation as a writer of boys' stories. 'BySheer Pluck' will be eagerly read. "--Athenaeum. 

With Lee in Virginia: A Story of the American Civil War. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"One of the best stories for lads which Mr. Henty has yet written. Thepicture is full of life and color, and the stirring and romanticincidents are skillfully blended with the personal interest and charm ofthe story. "--Standard. 

By England's Aid; or, The Freeing of the Netherlands (1585-1604). By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. 12mo, cloth, olivineedges, price $1. 00. 

"It is an admirable book for youngsters. It overflows with stirringincident and exciting adventure, and the color of the era and of thescene are finely reproduced. The illustrations add to itsattractiveness. "--Boston Gazette. 

By Right of Conquest; or, With Cortez in Mexico. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations by W. S. STACEY. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 50. 

"The conquest of Mexico by a small band of resolute men under themagnificent leadership of Cortez is always rightfully ranked among themost romantic and daring exploits in history. 'By Right of Conquest' isthe nearest approach to a perfectly successful historical tale that Mr. Henty has yet published. "--Academy. 

For Name and Fame; or, Through Afghan Passes. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"Not only a rousing story, replete with all the varied forms ofexcitement of a campaign, but, what is still more useful, an account ofa territory and its inhabitants which must for a long time possess asupreme interest for Englishmen, as being the key to our IndianEmpire. "--Glasgow Herald. 

The Bravest of the Brave; or, With Peterborough in Spain. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by H. M. PAGET. 12mo cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"Mr. Henty never loses sight of the moral purpose of his work--toenforce the doctrine of courage and truth, mercy and loving kindness, asindispensable to the making of a gentleman. Boys will read 'The Bravestof the Brave' with pleasure and profit; of that we are quitesure. "--Daily Telegraph. 

The Cat of Bubastes: A Story of Ancient Egypt. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"The story, from the critical moment of the killing of the sacred cat tothe perilous exodus into Asia with which it closes, is very skillfullyconstructed and full of exciting adventures. It is admirablyillustrated. "--Saturday Review. 

Bonnie Prince Charlie: A Tale of Fontenoy and Culloden. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"Ronald, the hero, is very like the hero of 'Quentin Durward. ' The lad'sjourney across France, and his hairbreadth escapes, makes up as good anarrative of the kind as we have ever read. For freshness of treatmentand variety of incident Mr. Henty has surpassed himself. "--Spectator. 

With Clive in India; or, The Beginnings of an Empire. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"He has taken a period of Indian history of the most vital importance, and he has embroidered on the historical facts a story which of itselfis deeply interesting. Young people assuredly will be delighted with thevolume. "--Scotsman. 

In the Reign of Terror: The Adventures of a Westminster Boy. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by J. SCHONBERG. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"Harry Sandwith, the Westminster boy, may fairly be said to beat Mr. Henty's record. His adventures will delight boys by the audacity andperil they depict. The story is one of Mr. Henty's best. "--SaturdayReview. 

The Lion of the North: A Tale of Gustavus Adolphus and the Wars ofReligion. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by JOHN SCHONBERG. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"A praiseworthy attempt to interest British youth in the great deeds ofthe Scotch Brigade in the wars of Gustavus Adolphus. Mackey, Hepburn, and Munro live again in Mr. Henty's pages, as those deserve to livewhose disciplined bands formed really the germ of the modern Britisharmy. "--Athenaeum. 

The Dragon and the Raven; or, The Days of King Alfred. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by C. J. STANILAND. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"In this story the author gives an account of the fierce struggle betweenSaxon and Dane for supremacy in England, and presents a vivid picture ofthe misery and ruin to which the country was reduced by the ravages ofthe sea-wolves. The story is treated in a manner most attractive to theboyish reader. "--Athenaeum. 

The Young Carthaginian: A Story of the Times of Hannibal. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by C. J. STANILAND. 12mo, cloth, olivineedges, price $1. 00. 

"Well constructed and vividly told. From first to last nothing stays theinterest of the narrative. It bears us along as on a stream whosecurrent varies in direction, but never loses its force. "--SaturdayReview. 

In Freedom's Cause: A Story of Wallace and Brace. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"It is written in the author's best style. Pull of the wildest and mostremarkable achievements, it is a tale of great interest, which a boy, once he has begun it, will not willingly put one side. "--TheSchoolmaster. 

With Wolfe in Canada; or, The Winning of a Continent. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"A model of what a boys' story-book should be. Mr. Henty has a greatpower of infusing into the dead facts of history new life, and as nopains are spared by him to ensure accuracy in historic details, hisbooks supply useful aids to study as well as amusement. "--SchoolGuardian. 

True to the Old Flag: A Tale of the American War of Independence. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE 12mo, cloth, olivineedges, price $1. 00. 

"Does justice to the pluck and determination of the British soldiersduring the unfortunate struggle against American emancipation. The sonof an American loyalist, who remains true to our flag, falls among thehostile red-skins in that very Huron country which has been endeared tous by the exploits of Hawkeye and Chingachgook. "--The Times. 

A Final Reckoning: A Tale of Bush Life in Australia. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by W. B. WOLLEN. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00

"All boys will read this story with eager and unflagging interest. Theepisodes are in Mr. Henty's very best vein--graphic, exciting, realistic; and, as in all Mr. Henty's books, the tendency is to theformation of an honorable, manly, and even heroic character. "--Birmingham Post. 

The lion of St. Mark: A Tale of Venice in the Fourteenth Century. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivineedges, price $1. 00. 

"Every boy should read 'The Lion of St. Mark. ' Mr. Henty has neverproduced a story more delightful, more wholesome, or morevivacious. "--Saturday Review. 

Facing Death; or, The Hero of the Vaughan Pit. A Tale of the Coal Mines. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations by GORDON BROWNE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"The tale is well written and well illustrated, and there is muchreality in the characters. If any father, clergyman, or schoolmaster ison the lookout for a good book to give as a present to a boy who isworth his salt, this is the book we would recommend. "--Standard. 

Maori and Settler: A Story of the New Zealand War. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations by ALFRED PEARSE. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"In the adventures among the Maoris, there are many breathless momentsin which the odds seem hopelessly against the party, but they succeed inestablishing themselves happily in one of the pleasant New Zealandvalleys. It is brimful of adventure, of humorous and interestingconversation, and vivid pictures of colonial life. "--Schoolmaster. 

One of the 25th: A Tale of Waterloo. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrationsby W. H. OVEREND. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"Written with Homeric vigor and heroic inspiration. It is graphic, picturesque, and dramatically effective. . . Shows us Mr. Henty at hisbest and brightest. The adventures will hold a boy enthralled as herushes through them with breathless interest 'from cover tocover. '"--Observer. 

Orange and Green: A Tale of the Boyne and Limerick. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations by GORDON BROWNE, 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"The narrative is free from the vice of prejudice, and ripples with lifeas if what is being described were really passing before theeye. "--Belfast News-Letter. 

Through the Fray: A Story of the Luddite Riots. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations by H. M. PAGET. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"Mr. Henty inspires a love and admiration for straightforwardness, truthand courage. This is one of the best of the many good books Mr. Hentyhas produced, and deserves to be classed with his 'FacingDeath. '"--Standard. 

The Young Midshipman: A Story of the Bombardment of Alexandria. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

A coast fishing lad, by an act of heroism, secures the interest of ashipowner, who places him as an apprentice on board one of his ships. Incompany with two of his fellow-apprentices he is left behind, atAlexandria, in the hands of the revolted Egyptian troops, and is presentthrough the bombardment and the scenes of riot and bloodshed whichaccompanied it. 

In Times of Peril. A Tale of India. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"The hero of the story early excites our admiration, and is altogether afine character such as boys will delight in, whilst the story of thecampaign is very graphically told. "--St. James's Gazette. 

The Cornet of Horse: A Tale of Marlborough's Wars. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 

"Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact andfiction together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot helpacquiring a just and clear view of that fierce and terrible struggleknown as the Crimean War. "--Athenaeum. 

The Young Franc-Tireurs: Their Adventures in the Franco-Prussian War. ByG. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 00. 

"A capital hook for boys. It is bright and readable, and full of goodsense and manliness. It teaches pluck and patience in adversity, andshows that right living leads to success. "--Observer. 

The Young Colonists: A Story of Life and War in South Africa. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

No boy needs to have any story of Henty's recommended to him, andparents who do not know and buy them for their boys should be ashamed ofthemselves. Those to whom he is yet unknown could not make a betterbeginning than with this book. 

The Young Buglers. A Tale of the Peninsular War. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 

"Mr. Henty is a giant among boys' writers, and his books aresufficiently popular to be sure of a welcome anywhere. In stirringinterest, this is quite up to the level of Mr. Henty's former historicaltales. "--Saturday Review. 

Sturdy and Strong; or, How George Andrews Made his Way. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"The history of a hero of everyday life, whose love of truth, clothingof modesty, and innate pluck, carry him, naturally, from poverty toaffluence. George Andrews is an example of character with nothing tocavil at, and stands as a good instance of chivalry in domesticlife. "--The Empire. 

Among Malay Pirates. A Story of Adventure and Peril. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"Incident succeeds incident, and adventure is piled upon adventure, andat the end the reader, be he boy or man, will have experiencedbreathless enjoyment in a romantic story that must have taught him muchat its close. "--Army and Navy Gazette. 

Jack Archer. A Tale of the Crimea. By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"Mr. Henty not only concocts a thrilling tale, he weaves fact andfiction together with so skillful a hand that the reader cannot helpacquiring a just and clear view of that fierce and terriblestruggle. "--Athenaeum. 

Friends, Though Divided. A Tale of the Civil War<

By G. A. HENTY. With illustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price$1. 

"It has a good plot; it abounds in action; the scenes are equallyspirited and realistic, and we can only say we have read it with muchpleasure from first to last. "--Times. 

Out on the Pampas; or, The Young Settlers. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"A really noble story, which adult readers will find to the full assatisfying as the boys. Lucky boys! to have such a caterer as Mr. G. A. Henty. "--Black and White. 

The Boy Knight: A Tale of the Crusades. By G. A. HENTY. Withillustrations. 12mo, cloth, olivine edges, price $1. 00. 

"Of stirring episode there is no lack. The book, with its carefulaccuracy and its descriptions of all the chief battles, will give many aschoolboy his first real understanding of a very important period ofhistory. "--St. James's Gazette. 

The Wreck of the Golden Fleece. The Story of a North Sea Fisher Boy. ByROBERT LEIGHTON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

A description of life on the wild North Sea, --the hero being a parson'sson who is appreciated on board a Lowestoft fishing lugger. The lad hasto suffer many buffets from his shipmates, while the storms and dangerswhich he braved on board the "North Star" are set forth with minuteknowledge and intense power. The wreck of the "Golden Fleece" forms theclimax to a thrilling series of desperate mischances. 

Olaf the Glorious. A Story of the Viking Age. By ROBERT LEIGHTON. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

This story of Olaf the Glorious, King of Norway, opens with the incidentof his being found by his uncle living as a bond-slave in Esthonia; thencome his adventures as a Viking and his raids upon the coasts ofScotland and England, his victorious battle against the English atMaldon in Essex, his being bought off by Ethelred the Unready, and hisconversion to Christianity. He then returns to Pagan Norway, is acceptedas king, and converts his people to the Christian faith. 

To Greenland and the Pole. A story of Adventure in the Arctic Regions, By Gordon Stables. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

The unfailing fascination of Arctic venturing is presented in this storywith new vividness. It deals with skilobning in the north of Scotland, deer-hunting in Norway, sealing in the Arctic Seas, bear-stalking on theice-floes, the hardships of a journey across Greenland, and a successfulvoyage to the back of the North Pole. This is, indeed, a real sea-yarnby a real sailor, and the tone is as bright and wholesome as theadventures are numerous. 

Yussuf the Guide. A Story of Adventure in Asia Minor. By GEORGE MANVILLEFENN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

This story deals with the stirring incidents in the career of a lad whohas been almost given over by the doctors, but who rapidly recovershealth and strength in a journey through Asia Minor. The adventures aremany, and culminate in the travellers being snowed up for the winter inthe mountains, from which they escape while their captors are waitingfor the ransom that does not come. 

Grettir the Outlaw. A Story of Iceland. By's. BARRING-GOULD. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"This is the boys' book of the year. That is, of course, as much as tosay that it will do for men grown as well as juniors. It is told insimple, straightforward English, as all stories should be, and it has afreshness and freedom which make it irresistible. "--National Observer. 

Two Thousand Years Ago. The Adventures of a Roman Boy By A. J. CHURCH. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"Prof. Church has in this story sought to revivify that most interestingperiod, the last days of the Roman Republic. The book is extremelyentertaining as well as useful; there is a wonderful freshness in theRoman scenes and characters. "--Times. 

Nat the Naturalist. A Boy's Adventure in the Eastern Seas. By GEORGEMANVILLE FENN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

Nat and his uncle Dick go on a voyage to the remoter islands of theEastern seas, and their adventures are told in a truthful and vastlyinteresting fashion. The descriptions of Mr. Ebony, their black comrade, and of the scenes of savage life, are full of genuine humor. 

The Log of the Flying Fish. A Story of Peril and Adventure. By HARRYCOLLINGWOOD. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 

"This story is full of even more vividly recounted adventures than thosewhich charmed so many boy readers in 'Pirate Island' and 'CongoRovers. '. . . There is a thrilling adventure on the precipices of MountEverest, when the ship floats off and providentially returns by forceof 'gravitation. '"--Academy. 

The Congo Rovers. A Story of the Slave Squadron. By HARRY COLLINGWOOD. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"The scene of this tale is laid on the west coast of Africa, and in thelower reaches of the Congo; the characteristic scenery of the greatriver being delineated with wonderful accuracy. Mr. Collingwood carriesus off for another cruise at sea, in 'The Congo Rovers, ' and boys willneed no pressing to join the daring crew, which seeks adventures andmeets with any number of them. "--The Times. 

Boris the Bear Hunter. A Tale of Peter the Great and His Times. By FREDWISHAW. 12mo. Cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"This is a capital story. The characters are marked and lifelike, and itis full of incident and adventure. "--Standard. 

Michael Strogoff; or, The Courier of the Czar. By JULES VERNE. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"The story is full of originality and vigor. The characters arelifelike, there is plenty of stirring incident, the interest issustained throughout, and every boy will enjoy following the fortunes ofthe hero. "--Journal of Education. 

Mother Carey's Chicken. Her Voyage to the Unknown Isle. By GEORGEMANVILLE FENN. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, price $1. 00. 

"Undoubtedly one of the best Mr. Fenn has written. The incidents are ofthrilling interest, while the characters are drawn with a care andcompleteness rarely found in a boy's book. "--Literary World. 

For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by thepublisher, A. L, BURT, 52-58 Duane Street, New York.