THE

YOUNG BANK MESSENGER

BY

HORATIO ALGER, JR. 

AUTHOR OF "RAGGED DICK SERIES, " "NEW WORLD SERIES, " ETC. 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. , PHILADELPHIA, CHICAGO, TORONTO. 

COPYRIGHT, 1898, BY HENRY T. COATES & CO. 

CONTENTS. 

 CHAPTER PAGE

 I. THE LONELY CABIN, 1

 II. A DEATHBED REVELATION, 10

 III. A SUCCESSFUL ROBBERY, 19

 IV. ALONE IN THE WORLD, 27

 V. THE TRAMP TURNS UP AGAIN, 36

 VI. A CRITICAL SITUATION, 44

 VII. ON THE ROAD, 53

 VIII. THE QUAKER DETECTIVE, 61

 IX. AN ARMED ESCORT, 71

 X. THE ASTONISHED OUTLAW, 77

 XI. UNDER WATCH AND WARD, 88

 XII. THE OUTLAW'S ESCAPE, 97

 XIII. THE OUTLAW'S MISTAKE, 106

 XIV. ERNEST HAS AN ADVENTURE, 115

 XV. A NEW ACQUAINTANCE, 124

 XVI. THE OUTLAW'S HOME, 133

 XVII. IN THE ROBBER'S CAVE, 142

 XVIII. THE OUTLAW AND HIS BAND, 153

 XIX. A DAY IN THE CAVE, 159

 XX. ERNEST EXPLORES THE CAVE, 168

 XXI. OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE, 178

 XXII. A FRIEND IN NEED, 187

 XXIII. GIVEN IN TRUST, 196

 XXIV. STEPHEN RAY AND HIS SON, 206

 XXV. A STARTLING DISCLOSURE, 216

 XXVI. BOUGHT OFF, 228

 XXVII. THE TOWN OF OREVILLE, 236

XXVIII. AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE TURNS UP, 246

 XXIX. TOM BURNS MAKES A CALL, 256

 XXX. A BURGLAR'S FAILURE, 266

 XXXI. THE ADVERTISEMENT, 276

 XXXII. MR. BOLTON AS A HUSTLER, 285

XXXIII. THE RESULT OF AN ADVERTISEMENT, 295

 XXXIV. A STRANGE MEETING, 301

 XXXV. MR. BOLTON AND HIS CLIENT, 309

 XXXVI. AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW, 314

XXXVII. CONCLUSION, 320

THE

YOUNG BANK MESSENGER. 

CHAPTER I. 

THE LONELY CABIN. 

Just on the edge of the prairie, in western Iowa, some thirty yearssince, stood a cabin covering quite a little ground, but only onestory high. It was humble enough as a home, but not more so than theearly homes of some who have become great. 

Let us enter. 

The furniture was scanty, being limited to articles of primenecessity. There was a stove, a table, three chairs, a row of shelvescontaining a few articles of crockery and tinware, and a bed in thefar corner of the room, on which rested a man. He had a ragged graybeard and hair, and a face long and thin, with preternaturally blackeyes. 

It was evident that he was sick unto death. His parchment-colored skinwas indented with wrinkles; from time to time he coughed so violentlyas to rack his slight frame, and his hand, thin and wrinkled, as itrested on the quilt that covered him, shook as with palsy. 

It was hard to tell how old the man was. He looked over seventy, butthere were indications that he had aged prematurely. 

There was one other person in the room, one whose appearancecontrasted strongly with that of the old man. It was a boy of sixteen, a boy with dark brown hair, ruddy cheeks, hazel eyes, an attractiveyet firm and resolute face, and an appearance of manliness andself-reliance. He was well dressed, and, though the tenant of such anhumble home, would have passed muster upon the streets of a city. 

"How do you feel, Uncle Peter?" he asked, as he stood by the bedside. 

"I shall never feel any better, Ernest, " said the old man, in a hollowvoice. 

"Don't say that, uncle, " rejoined Ernest in a tone of concern. 

There seemed little to connect him, in his strong, attractive boyhood, with the frail old man, but they had lived together for five years, and habit was powerful. 

"Yes, Ernest, I shall never rise from this bed. "

"Isn't there anything I can get for you, uncle?"

"Is there is there anything left in the bottle?" asked Peter, wistfully. 

Ernest walked to the shelf that held the dishes, and took from acorner a large black bottle. It seemed light and might be empty. Heturned out the contents into a glass, but there was only atablespoonful of whisky left. 

"It is almost all gone, Uncle Peter; will you have this much?"

"Yes, " answered the old man, tremulously. 

Ernest lifted the invalid into a sitting posture, and then put theglass to his mouth. 

He drained it, and gave a sigh of satisfaction. 

"It is good, " he said briefly. 

"I wish there were more. "

"It goes to the right spot. It puts strength into me. "

"Shall I go to the village and buy more?"

"I--I don't know--"

"I can get back very soon. "

"Very well--go then, like a good boy. "

"I shall have to trouble you for some money, Uncle Peter. "

"Go to the trunk. You will find some. "

There was a small hair trunk, in another corner. Ernest knew that thiswas meant, and he knelt down before it and lifted the lid. 

There was a small wooden box at the left-hand side. Opening this, Ernest discovered three five-dollar gold pieces. Usually his uncle hadgone to the trunk for money, but the boy knew where it was kept. 

"There are but three gold pieces, uncle, " he announced, lookingtowards the bed. 

"Take one of them, Ernest. "

"I wonder if that is all the money he has left?" thought Ernest. 

He rose from his kneeling position and went to the door. 

"I won't be gone long, uncle, " he said. He followed a path which ledfrom the door in an easterly direction to the village. It was over amile away, and consisted only of a few scattering houses, ablacksmith's shop, and a store. 

It was to the store that Ernest bent his steps. It was a one-storystructure, as were most of the buildings in the village. There was asign over the door which read:

 JOE MARKS. Groceries and Family Supplies. 

Joe stood behind the counter; there were two other men in the store, one tall, gaunt, of the average Western type, with a broad-brimmed, soft felt hat on his head, and in the costume of a hunter; he lookedrough, but honest and reliable, and that was more than could be saidof the other. He may best be described as a tramp, a man who lookedaverse to labor of any kind, a man without a settled business or home, who picked up a living as he could, caring less for food than fordrink, and whose mottled face indicated frequent potations of whisky. 

Ernest looked at this man as he entered. He didn't remember to havemet him before, nor was there anything to attract him in hisappearance. 

"How are you, Ernest?" said Joe Marks, cordially. "How's Uncle Peter?"

"He's pretty bad, Joe. He thinks he's going to die. "

"Not so bad as that, surely. "

"Yes, I guess he's right. He's very weak. "

"Well, well, he's a good age. How old is he?"

"I don't know. He never told me. "

"He's well on to seventy, I'm thinking. But what can I do for you?"

"You may fill this bottle, Joe; Uncle Peter is so weak he thinks itwill put new life in him. "

"So it will, Ernest; there's nothing like good whisky to make an oldman strong, or a young man, for that matter. "

It may be easy to see that Joe did not believe in total abstinence. 

"I don't drink, myself!" said Ernest, replying to the last part ofJoe's remark. 

"There's nothing like whisky, " remarked the tramp in a hoarse voice. 

"You've drunk your share, I'm thinking, " said Luke Robbins, the tallhunter. 

"Not yet, " returned the tramp. "I haven't had my share yet. There'slots of people that has drunk more'n me. "

"Why haven't you drunk your share? You hadn't no objections, I reckon. "

"I hadn't the money, " said the tramp, sadly. "I've never had muchmoney. I ain't lucky. "

"If you had had more money, you'd maybe not be living now. You'd havedrunk yourself to death. "

"If I ever do commit suicide, that's the way I'd like to die, " saidthe tramp. 

Joe filled the bottle from a keg behind the counter and handed it toErnest. The aroma of the whisky was diffused about the store, and thetramp sniffed it in eagerly. It stimulated his desire to indulge hiscraving for drink. As Ernest, with the bottle in his hand, prepared toleave, the tramp addressed him. 

"Say, young feller, ain't you goin' to shout?"

"What do you mean?"

"Ain't you goin' to treat me and this gentleman?" indicating LukeRobbins. 

"No, " answered Ernest, shortly. "I don't buy it as drink, but asmedicine. "

"I need medicine, " urged the tramp, with a smile. 

"I don't, " said the hunter. "Don't you bother about us, my boy. If wewant whisky we can buy it ourselves. "

"I can't, " whined the tramp. "If I had as much money as you, "--for hehad noticed that Ernest had changed a gold piece--"I'd be happy, butI'm out of luck. "

Ernest paid no attention to his words, but left the store, and struckthe path homeward. 

"Who's that boy?" asked the tramp. 

"It's Ernest Ray. "

"Where'd he get that gold?"

"He lives with his uncle, a mile from the village. "

"Is his uncle rich?"

"Folks think so. They call him a miser. "

"Is he goin' to die?"

"That's what the boy says. "

"And the boy'll get all his money?"

"It's likely. "

"I'd like to be his guardian. "

Joe and Luke Robbins laughed. "You'd make a pretty guardian, " saidLuke. 

"I won't get it, " said the tramp, mournfully. "I never had no luck. "

CHAPTER II. 

A DEATHBED REVELATION. 

Ernest made the best of his way home, for he knew his uncle would bewaiting for him. 

The old man's eyes were closed, but he opened them when Ernest enteredthe room. 

"Was I gone long?" asked the boy. 

"I don't know. I think I fell asleep. "

"Shall I give you some of the drink?"

"Yes. "

He drank a small amount, and it seemed to brighten him up so much thatErnest said, "You look better, Uncle Peter. You may live some time. "

Peter shook his head. 

"No, boy, " he replied; "my time has come to die. I know it. I wouldlike to live for your sake. You will miss me when I am gone, Ernest?"

"Yes, uncle, I shall miss you very much. "

The old man seemed gratified. Ernest was the only one he cared for inall the world. 

"I don't care so much about dying, but I am anxious for you. I wish Ihad money to leave you, Ernest, but I haven't much. "

"I am young and strong. I can get along. "

"I hope so. You will go away from here. "

"Yes, uncle. I don't think I shall care to stay here after you aregone. "

"You will need money to take you away. "

"There is a little more in the trunk. "

"But only a little. It is not quite all I have. I have a hundreddollars in gold laid away for you. "

Ernest looked surprised. 

"I must tell you where it is while I still have life. Do youremember the oak tree on the little knoll half a mile away?"

"Yes, I know it. "

"Dig under that tree five feet in a westerly direction. There is awooden box about half a foot below the surface of the earth. There'snothing to mark the spot, for it was buried a year since, and thegrass has grown over it, hiding all traces of the earth's beingdisturbed. After I am gone go there and get the money. "

"Yes, uncle. "

"Don't let any one see you when you visit the spot. It will be best togo at night. There are evil-disposed men who would rob you of it ifthey had the chance. I am sorry it is so little, Ernest. "

"But it seems to me a good deal. "

"To a boy it may seem so. Once I thought I might have a good deal moreto leave you. Go to the trunk and search till you find a paper foldedin an envelope, and inscribed with your name. "

"Shall I search now?"

"Yes. "

Ernest went to the trunk, and followed the old man's directions. Hefound the envelope readily, and held it up. 

"Is that it, uncle?"

"Yes. Put it in your pocket, and read it after I am gone. Then beguided by circumstances. It may amount to something hereafter. "

"Very well, uncle. "

"I have told you, Ernest, that I do not expect to live long. I have afeeling that twenty-four hours from now I shall be gone. "

"Oh, no, uncle, not so soon!" exclaimed Ernest, in a shocked tone. 

"Yes, I think so. If you have any questions to ask me while I yet havelife, ask, for it is your right. "

"Yes, Uncle Peter, I have long wished to know something about myself. Have I any relatives except you?"

"I am not your relative, " answered the old man slowly. 

Ernest was amazed. 

"Are you not my uncle?" he asked. 

"No; there is no tie of blood between us. "

"Then how does it happen that we have lived together so many years?"

"I was a servant in your father's family. When your father died, thecare of you devolved upon me. "

"Where was I born?"

"In a large town in the western part of New York State. Yourgrandfather was a man of wealth, but your father incurred hisdispleasure by his marriage to a poor but highly-educated and refinedgirl. A cousin of your father took advantage of this and succeeded inalienating father and son. The estate that should have descended toyour father was left to the cousin. "

"Is he still living?"

"Yes. "

"But my father died?"

"Yes; he had a fever, which quickly carried him off when you were fiveyears of age. "

"Was he very poor?"

"No; he inherited a few thousand dollars from an aunt, and upon thishe lived prudently, carrying on a small business besides. Your motherdied when you were three years old, your father two years later. "

"And then you took care of me?"

"Yes. "

"And I have been a burden to you these many years!"

"No! Don't give me too much credit. A sum of money was put into myhands to spend for you. We lived carefully, and it lasted. We havebeen here three years, and it has cost very little to live in thattime. The hundred dollars of which I spoke to you are the last of yourinheritance. You are not indebted to me for it. It is rightfullyyours. "

"What is my uncle's name?"

"Stephen Ray. He lives a few miles from Elmira, on the Erie road. "

"And is he quite rich?"

"Yes; he is probably worth a quarter of a million dollars. It is moneywhich should have gone to your father. "

"Then the wicked are sometimes prospered in this world!"

"Yes, but this world is not all. "

"Has there been any communication with my cousin in all these years?"

"Yes, two years ago I wrote to him. "

"What did you write?"

"You must forgive me, Ernest, but I saw you growing up without aneducation, and I felt that you should have advantages which I couldnot give you. I wrote to your cousin asking if he would pay yourexpenses in a preparatory school and afterward at college. "

"What did he reply?"

"Go to the trunk. You will find his letter there. It is in the tray, and addressed to me. "

Ernest found it readily. 

"May I read it?" he asked. 

"Yes, I wish you to do so. "

It ran thus:

PETER BRANT. 

_Sir:_ I have received your letter making an appeal to me in behalf ofErnest Ray, the son of my cousin. You wish me to educate him. I mustdecline to do so. His father very much incensed my revered uncle, andit is not right that any of his money should go to him or his heirs. He must reap the reward of his disobedience. So far as I am personallyconcerned I should not object to doing something for the boy, but I amsure that my dead uncle would not approve it. Besides, I have myself ason to whom I propose to leave the estate intact. 

It is my advice that you bring up the boy Ernest to some humbleemployment, perhaps have him taught some trade by which he can earn anhonest living. It is not at all necessary that he should receive acollegiate education. You are living at the West. That is well. He isfavorably situated for a poor boy, and will have little difficulty inearning a livelihood. I don't care to have him associate with my boyClarence. They are cousins, it is true, but their lots in life will bevery different. 

I do not care to communicate with you again. 

 STEPHEN RAY. 

Ernest read this letter with flushed cheeks. 

"I hate that man, " he said hotly, "even if he is a relative. UnclePeter, I am sorry you ever applied to him in my behalf. "

"I would not, Ernest, if I had understood what manner of man he was. "

"I may meet him some time, " said Ernest, thoughtfully. 

"Would you claim relationship?"

_"Never!"_ declared Ernest, emphatically. "It was he, you say, whoprejudiced my grandfather against my poor father?"

"Yes. "

"In order to secure the estate himself?"

"Undoubtedly that was his object. "

"Nothing could be meaner. I would rather live poor all my life thanget property by such means. "

"If you have no more questions to ask, Ernest, I will try to sleep. Ifeel drowsy. "

"Do so, Uncle Peter. "

The old man closed his eyes, and soon all was silent. Presently Ernesthimself lay down on a small bed near by. When he awoke, hoursafterward, he lit a candle and went to Peter's bedside. 

The old man lay still--very still. With quick suspicion Ernest placedhis hand on his cheek. 

It was stone cold. 

"He is dead!" cried Ernest, and a feeling of desolation came over him. 

"I am all alone now, " he murmured. 

But he was not wholly alone. There was a face glued against thewindow-pane a face that he did not see. It was the tramp he had metduring the day at the village store. 

CHAPTER III. 

A SUCCESSFUL ROBBERY. 

The tramp stood with his face glued to the pane, looking in at theboy. He could not quite understand what had taken place, but gatheredthat the old man was dead. 

"So much the better!" he said. "It will make my task easier. "

He had hoped to find both asleep, and decided to wait near the housetill the boy went to bed. He had made many inquiries at the store ofJoe Marks, and the answers to his questions led him to believe thatold Peter had a large amount of money concealed in his cabin. 

Now, Tom Burns was a penniless tramp, who had wandered from Chicago ona predatory trip, ready to take any property he could lay his handson. The chance that presented itself here was unusually tempting to aman of his character. 

Earlier in the evening he had reached the cabin, but thought it bestto defer his plans until later, for Ernest was awake and stirringabout the room. 

The tramp withdrew to some distance from the cabin and lay down undera tree, where he was soon fast asleep. Curiously, it was the very oaktree under which Peter's little hoard was concealed, but this, ofcourse, he did not know. Had he been aware that directly beneath himwas a box containing a hundred dollars in gold he would have beenelectrified and full of joy. 

Tom Burns in his long and varied career had many times slept in theopen air, and he had no difficulty in falling asleep now. But asleephe took no note of time, and when he woke up it was much later than heintended. However, without delay he made his way to the cabin, andarrived just as Ernest discovered the death of the old man whom he hadsupposed to be his uncle. 

What time it was the tramp did not know, for it was years since he hadcarried a watch; but as he stood with his face glued to thewindow-pane he heard a clock in the cabin striking the hour of three. 

"Three o'clock, " he ejaculated. "Well, I did have a nap!"

The boy was awake and he thought it best to wait a while. 

"Why didn't I get here a little sooner?" he grumbled. "Then I couldhave ransacked the cabin without trouble. Probably the old man hasbeen dead some time. "

He watched to see what Ernest would do. 

"He won't be such a fool as to sit up with the corpse, " he muttered, alittle apprehensively. "That wouldn't do no good. "

Apparently Ernest was of this opinion, for after carefully covering upthe inanimate body he lay down again on his own bed. 

He did not fall asleep immediately, for the thought that he was in thepresence of death naturally affected his imagination. But graduallyhis eyes closed, and his full, regular breathing gave notice that hewas locked in slumber. 

He had left the candle burning on the table. By the light which itafforded the tramp could watch him, and at the end of twenty minuteshe felt satisfied that he could safely enter. 

He lifted the window, and passed into the room noiselessly. He had oneeye fixed on the sleeping boy, who might suddenly awake. He had takenoff his shoes, and left them on the grass just under the window. 

When Tom Burns found himself in the room, he made his way at once tothe trunk, which his watchful eye had already discovered. 

"That's where the old man keeps his gold, likely, " he muttered. "Ihope it isn't locked. "

Usually the trunk would have been fastened, but the conversation whichErnest had had with old Peter so engrossed his mind as to make himless careful than usual. Tom Burns therefore had no difficulty inlifting the lid. 

With eager fingers he explored the contents, and was not long indiscovering the box which contained the two gold coins. 

The discovery pleased and yet disappointed him. 

"Only ten dollars!" he muttered. "There ought to have been a pile ofthese yellow boys. Perhaps there are more somewhere. "

Meanwhile he slipped the two coins into his vest pocket It was notmuch, but it was more than he had had in his possession for months. 

He continued his search, but failed to discover any more money. Hefelt indignant. It seemed to him that he was badly used. That a misershould have but a paltry ten dollars in his trunk was verydiscreditable. 

"He must have some more somewhere, " Burns reflected. 

It occurred to him that there might be hoards hidden under the floor, or in the immediate neighborhood of the cabin. But it was night, andthere would be no profit in pursuing the search now. 

"To-morrow, " he reflected, "the boy will be off making preparationsfor buryin' the old man, and then I can make another visit. "

He closed the lid of the trunk, and with a general glance to see ifthere was anything more worth taking, he rose to his feet andprepared to leave the room. 

Just at this moment Ernest, who was probably dreaming of the old man, spoke in his sleep. 

"Uncle Peter, " he murmured. 

The tramp stood still, apprehensive that Ernest would open his eyesand detect his presence. But the boy did not speak again. 

"I had better get, " soliloquized Burns. 

He got out of the window quietly, but as the boy stirred again, hehurried away with out stopping to shut it. 

When, a little after seven o'clock, Ernest woke up, the sun wasstreaming in at the open window, and the cool air entered with it. 

"How came the window up?" thought Ernest, wondering. "I am sure Ididn't leave it open last night. "

There was nothing else to indicate that the cabin had been entered. But the more Ernest thought it over, the more convinced he was thatthere had been a visitor. 

What could have been his motive?

With sudden suspicion, he went to the trunk and opened it. It wasevident that things had been disturbed. His eyes sought out the boxthat contained the gold pieces. He opened it, and found that he hadbeen robbed. 

"Who could have done it?" he asked himself. 

He could not think of any one. He was acquainted with every one in thelittle village, and he knew none that would be capable of theft. Henever thought of the ill-looking tramp whom he had met in Joe Marks'store. 

Ten dollars was a considerable loss to him, for he had estimated thatit would defray the expenses of old Peter's interment. It was not sobad as it might have been, however, for the hundred dollars of whichPeter had told him were still safe. 

"When I get that I must be careful, " he said to himself. 

Though his rest had been disturbed, he felt ready to get up. There waswork for him to do. He must arrange for the burial of the old man withwhom he had lived so long, the only friend he felt he could claim. 

Ernest rose, and after dressing himself, made a frugal breakfast. Helooked sadly at Peter. Death was to him something new and strange, forhe did not remember ever having seen a dead man before. He must gethelp, and with that object in view he went to the village, and soughtthe store of Joe Marks. 

"What brings you out so early, my lad?" asked Joe. 

"Matter enough, Joe. My uncle is dead. "

He still called him uncle, though he knew now that Peter was no kin tohim. 

"Old Peter dead!" ejaculated Marks. "When did he die?"

"Some time during the night. I wish you'd help me, for I don't knowwhat to do. "

"So I will, boy. We'll stand by you, won't we, Luke?"

This was said as Luke Robbins entered the store. 

"To be sure we will, Ernest. We all like you. "

"Oh, I forgot to say, " continued Ernest, "the cabin was entered lastnight, and some money taken. "

CHAPTER IV. 

ALONE IN THE WORLD. 

Joe Marks and Luke Robbins looked at each other in amazement. 

"Your cabin entered!" exclaimed Joe. "What do you say to that, Luke?"

"I did not know there were any thieves around here, " answered Luke. "What was taken?"

"An old trunk was opened--I carelessly left it unlocked--and twofive-dollar gold pieces were stolen out of it. At any rate I couldn'tfind them this morning. "

"Two five-dollar gold pieces?" said Joe quickly. "Then I know who tookthem. "

"What do you mean, Joe?" said Luke. "Out with it!"

"You know that tramp who was here yesterday, Luke?"

"Yes. "

"He came round an hour ago, just after I had opened, and called for aglass of whisky. 'Where is your money?' I asked. 'I've got plenty. Youneedn't be afraid, ' he said. Then I called upon him to show it, and hepulled out a five-dollar gold piece. Of course I was surprised. 'Wheredid you get it?' I asked, suspiciously. 'Yesterday you said you had nomoney. ' 'I had that, ' he answered, 'but I didn't want to spend it. Yousee it was a gift from my dyin' mother, and I wanted to keep it forher sake. ' With that he rolled up his eyes and looked sanctimonious. Then I asked him how it happened that he was ready to spend it now. "

"What did he say?"

"He said that he was so parched with thirst that he felt obliged to doit. "

"Did you take his money?"

"No. I was short of change. You see I changed a gold piece for the boyyesterday. Besides, I wasn't sure the piece was good, seeing whooffered it. I thought it might be bogus. "

"Then he didn't get his whisky?"

"No. He went away disappointed. I don't doubt, Ernest, that the goldpiece was one of yours. How did the fellow get in?"

"Through the window. I found it open when I woke up. "

"You must have slept sound?"

"I did. I slept an hour later than I generally do. "

"Was anything else taken?"

"Not that I could discover. "

"Do you mean to say that your uncle had but ten dollars?" asked Joeincredulously. 

"It was all he had in the trunk. "

"I always thought him a rich man. "

"He was not, " said Ernest quietly. 

"Was that all the money he had? He had the reputation of being amiser, with hoards of gold hidden in or near the cabin. "

"I know of one sum of money he had concealed, but it was not a largeamount. He told me about it before he died. "

"I'm glad you won't be left penniless, lad; did he own the cabin?"

"Nobody owned it, " said Joe Marks. "It was built years ago by a manwho suddenly left it and went away, nobody knew where. It wasn't worthmuch, and no one ever took the trouble to claim it. When your unclecame here he found it empty and took possession of it, and there hehas lived ever since. So you'll have some money, Ernest?"

"Only a hundred dollars. "

"What will you do? What are your plans?"

"I don't know. I haven't had time to think. "

"I might find a place for you in the store. We wouldn't like to haveyou go away. "

"Thank you, Joe. You are very kind. But there's no chance for mearound here. I'll take the money, and go somewhere. But first I mustsee Uncle Peter buried. Will you help me?"

"To be sure we will. Was he your only relation?"

"He was not my relation at all. "

"Why, you have always called him uncle. "

"I supposed him to be my uncle, but yesterday he told me that he wasonly a servant in my father's family, and that on my father's deathhe was placed in charge of me. "

"I reckon that's so. You didn't favor the old man at all. You look asif you came from better stock. "

"All the same I shall miss him, " said Ernest sadly. "He was a goodfriend to me, Peter was. "

"Did he tell you whether you had any kin?"

"Yes; I have a cousin of my father's living in New York State. He is arich man. He inherited the property that ought to have gone to myfather. "

"How did that happen?"

"He prejudiced my grandfather against my father, and so the estate waswilled to him. "

"The mean scoundrel!" exclaimed Luke indignantly. "I'd like to havehim in my hands for a few minutes; I'd give him a lesson. "

"I should pity him if ever you got hold of him, Luke, " said Joe Marks. "But we must consider what we can do for the boy. "

"I wish we could get hold of that thief of a tramp!"

"Probably we shall. He'll find his way back here sooner or later. "

But the burial of Peter Brant was the first consideration. Noundertaker was called, for in that small settlement one would not havebeen supported. The ceremonies of death were few and simple. A rudewooden box was put together, and Peter was placed in it, dressed as hewas at the time of his death. There was an itinerant minister whopreached in the village once in four weeks, but he was away now, andso there could be no religious ceremony beyond reading a chapter fromthe New Testament. Joe Marks, who had received a decent education, officiated as reader. Then the interment took place. In the forenoonof the second day Peter's body was laid away, and Ernest was leftpractically alone in the world. 

Meanwhile some account must be given of Tom Burns, the tramp. 

When he found it impossible to obtain whisky with the gold he hadstolen, he felt very despondent. His throat was parched, and hiscraving became intolerable. He felt that he had been decidedlyill-used. What was the use of money unless it could be converted intowhat his soul desired? But there was no way of changing the coinexcept at the store of Joe Marks. To ask any of the villagers wouldonly have excited surprise and suspicion. Besides, the tramp felt surethat Ernest would soon discover that he had been robbed. He wouldnaturally be suspected, especially as Joe Marks had knowledge of agold piece being in his possession. 

There was a small settlement about five miles off, called Daneboro. Itwas probably the nearest place where he could get a glass of whisky. He must walk there. It was not a pleasant prospect, for the tramp waslazy and not fond of walking, though he had been compelled to do agood deal of it. Still, it seemed to be a necessity, and when he leftthe store of Joe Marks he set out for Daneboro. 

Thirst was not the only trouble with Tom Burns. He had not eatenanything for about twenty-four hours, and his neglected stomachrebelled. He tightened a girdle about his waist, and walked on ingreat discomfort. He had perhaps gone two miles when he came to acabin similar in appearance to that of old Peter Brant. A woman stoodin the door-way. 

"My good lady, " said Tom, putting on a pitiful expression, "I am avery unfortunate man. "

"Are you?" said the woman, scanning him critically. "You look like atramp. "

"I do, madam, yet I was once a thriving merchant. "

"You don't look like it. "

"I don't; I acknowledge it. "

"How did you lose your property, if you ever had any?"

"By signin' notes for my brother. It swept off all my possessions. "

"Then I pity you. That's the way my man lost five hundred dollars, nearly all he had. What can I do for you?"

"Madam, I am hungry, very hungry. "

"Set right down on the settle, and I'll give you what's left of ourbreakfast. "

Tom Burns obeyed with alacrity. 

A plate of cold bacon, a cold potato, and some corn bread were placedbefore him, and he ate them almost voraciously. There had been timesin his life when he would have turned up his nose at such fare, butnot now. 

"My good lady, " he said, "you have saved my life. "

"Well, you must 'a' been hungry, " said the woman. "A man that'll eatcold vittles, especially cold potato, ain't shammin'. "

"I wish I had money to offer you--"

"Oh, never mind that, you're welcome. Can I do anything more for you?"

"I feel sick, and sometimes, though I am a temperance man, I takewhisky for my health. If you had just a sup--"

"Well, we haven't, and if we had I wouldn't give you any. "

"You misjudge me, madam. You must not think I am a drinker. "

"It's no matter what I think. You can't get any whisky here. "

At Daneboro Tom fared better. He changed his gold piece, drank a pintof whisky, and the next day retraced his steps to old Peter's cabin. He felt satisfied that somewhere near the cabin there were treasuresconcealed, and he meant to secure them. 

CHAPTER V. 

THE TRAMP TURNS UP AGAIN. 

When Peter Brant was laid away under a tree not far from the cabinwhere he had ended his days, Ernest felt that he was at liberty tobegin the new life that lay before him. Despite the natural sadnesswhich he felt at parting with his old friend, he looked forward notwithout pleasant anticipations to the future and what it might have instore for him. 

Oak Forks had few attractions for him. Time had often dragged wearilywith him. He had a literary taste, but could not get hold of books. Peter Brant had about a dozen volumes, none of which he had readhimself, but Ernest had read them over and over again. None of theneighbors owned any books. Occasionally a newspaper found its way intothe settlement, and this, when it came into Ernest's hands, wasdevoured, advertisements and all. 

How, then, was his time passed? Partly in hunting, partly in fishing, for there was a small river two miles away; but one could not fish orhunt all the time. He had often felt a vague yearning to go toChicago, or New York, or anywhere where there would be a broader fieldand large opportunities, and he had broached the subject to Peter. 

"I can't afford to go, Ernest, " the old man would reply. "I must liveon the little I have, for I am too old to work. "

"But I am young. I can work, " the boy would answer. 

"A boy like you couldn't earn much. Wait till I am dead and then youcan go where you like. "

This would always close the discussion, for Ernest did not like toconsider such a contingency. Peter represented his world, for he hadno one to cling to except the man whom he supposed to be his uncle. 

Now, however, the time had come when he could go forth and enter upona career. Accordingly he declined Joe Marks' offer to take him intothe store. He understood very well that it was only meant in kindness, and that he was not really needed. 

"You don't need me, Joe, " he said. "You are very kind, but there mustbe real work for me somewhere. "

"Well, my lad, I won't stand in your way, but I've known you a longtime, and I shall hate to lose sight of you. "

"I'll come back some day, Joe--that is, if I am prosperous, and can. "

"If you are not prosperous, if you fall sick, and need a home and afriend, come back, then. Don't forget your old friend Joe Marks. "

"I won't, Joe, " said Ernest heartily. 

"You've got another friend here, Ernest, " added Luke Robbins. "I'm apoor man, and my friendship isn't worth much, but you have it, all thesame. "

Ernest grasped the hands of both. He felt that each was a friend worthhaving. 

"You may be sure that I won't forget either of you, " he said. 

"When do you expect to go, Ernest, and where?" asked Joe Marks. 

"I shall get away to-morrow, I think, but where I shall go I can'ttell yet. "

"Do you need any money?"

"No; my uncle left me some. "

Ernest had not yet secured the gold, but he knew exactly where it was, and now that all his business was ended, he felt that it was time topossess himself of it. Accordingly he took a spade from the house andbent his steps in the direction of the old oak tree. 

He went alone, for he thought it best not to take anyone into hisconfidence. Indeed the only persons whom he would have thought oftrusting were Joe Marks and Luke Robbins, and they were both employed, Joe in his store and Luke on a hunting expedition. 

Arrived at the tree, Ernest measured off five feet in the directionmentioned by Peter and began to dig. It did not take him long to reachthe box, for it was only a foot beneath the surface of the ground. 

It proved to be a cigar-box, for Peter was fond of smoking, though heusually smoked a pipe, as being more economical. Ernest lifted the lidand saw a small roll enclosed in brown wrapping-paper, which, on beingremoved, revealed twenty five-dollar gold pieces. He regarded themwith satisfaction, for they afforded him the means of leaving OakForks and going out into the great world which he had such a curiosityto enter. 

But Ernest was not the only one who regarded the gold pieces withsatisfaction. 

Hidden behind a tree only a few feet away was a person with whom weare already acquainted. It was Tom Burns, the tramp and vagabond. 

He, too, was out in search of gold. He had come from Daneboro and wasprowling round the neighborhood, searching for old Peter's hiddentreasure. He had deliberated as to whether the cabin or the fields wasthe more likely place to have been selected. He had nothing inparticular to guide him. He did not, however, venture to approach thehouse just yet, as it would probably be occupied by Ernest. 

"I wish I knowed where the old man hid his boodle, " soliloquized Tom. "I can't dig all over. "

In fact digging was not in Tom's line. It was too much like work, andif there was anything to which Tom was bitterly opposed it was work ofany kind. 

"The boy must know. Likely the old man told him, " he finallyconcluded. "I'll watch the boy. "

He feared he might be too late. Had it been his own case, he wouldhave searched for the gold immediately after the funeral. He naturallysupposed that Ernest would do the same. He therefore lost no time inprowling around the cabin, with the especial object of watchingErnest's movements. He was especially favored, as he thought, whenfrom a distance he saw Ernest leaving the cabin with the spade in hishand. 

The tramp's heart was filled with joy. 

"He is going to dig for the treasure, " he said. "I'll keep him insight. "

Tom Burns had no difficulty in doing this, for Ernest bent his stepsin his direction. 

"I hope he won't discover me, " thought Burns; "at any rate, not till Ifind out where he's going to dig. "

All things seemed to favor the tramp. Ernest stopped when he came tothe oak tree, and it was evident this was the spot of which he was insearch. 

"Why, that's where I was lying the other night!" thought Burns. "If Ihad only knowed! Why, the gold was right under me all the time. If I'dfound it then, I should have gone off with it before this time. However, it isn't too late now. "

He watched with subdued eagerness while Ernest was digging. He nolonger doubted that this was the place where the gold was hidden. Ernest could have no other object in digging in this place. 

"I wonder how much there is, " thought Burns. "There ought to be asmuch as a thousand dollars. Perhaps there's two or three. But even ifthere is only a thousand, it will set me on my feet. I'll soon get outof this neighborhood. I'll go to Chicago or New York, and I'll live inclover. I'll make up for lost time. I've been a vagabond long enough. I'll buy some new clothes, and set up as a respectable man. "

When Ernest found the roll of coins, and taking them out, put them inhis pocket, he was not disappointed, for he knew what to expect, butTom Burns was in dismay. 

"Only a hundred dollars?" he soliloquized. "What's a hundred dollars?The old man ought to be ashamed of himself. Why, it isn'trespectable!"

However, one thing was certain. A hundred dollars was better thannothing. It would take him to Chicago, and enable him to live incomfort for a while. Besides, he might multiply it many times at thegaming table, for Tom Burns had been a gambler in his day. Hecertainly did not propose to disdain the sum which fortune had placedin his way simply because it was so small. Oh, no, Tom Burns was notthat sort of a man. 

Ernest put the gold pieces in his pocket and turned to go back to thecabin, when a voice reached him. 

"Look here, boy, I'll trouble you to hand over that money. "

CHAPTER VI. 

A CRITICAL SITUATION. 

Ernest turned and regarded the tramp in amazement. 

"What do you mean?" he demanded. 

"I want that money you just dug up, " replied Tom Burns boldly. 

Instantly Ernest comprehended his danger. He was a stout boy, but thetramp was a large man, weighing probably fifty pounds more thanhimself. Moreover, he looked desperate and reckless. The boy felt thatin strength he was no match for the thief who confronted him. 

Yet he could not bear the thought of allowing himself to be robbed. Left penniless, how could he carry out the plans which he had in view?He tried to gain time. 

"Do you want to rob me?" he asked. 

"I have just as much right to that money as you, " said the tramp. 

"How do you make that out?"

"The man who put it there owed me money. "

"Do you think I am a fool to believe that ridiculous story?"

"You'd better be careful how you talk, " said Burns menacingly. "What Isay I mean. "

"Then all I can say is that you have told a falsehood. You are theman, I suppose, who entered our cabin at night and stole money out ofa trunk. "

"I don't know anything about your trunk, " said Burns mendaciously. "But I have no time to talk--I want that money. "

Ernest looked about him, hoping to see some one to whom he couldappeal for help, but no one appeared in sight. Next he looked at thetramp, to note if he were armed. To his relief Burns did not appear tohave any weapon with him. Rapidly he determined not to give up themoney without a struggle. 

"I won't give up the money to a thief, " he said boldly. 

As he spoke he turned and ran as fast as he was able. 

Tom Burns uttered an execration and prepared to pursue him. 

Winged with fear of losing his gold, Ernest flew rather than ran, notheeding the direction he was taking. The tramp accepted the challengeand put forth his utmost speed in the hope of overtaking him. 

"You'll pay for this, boy, " he growled. "Just let me catch you. "

But Ernest did not mean to be caught. Being a fast runner for a boy ofhis size, he bade fair to out-distance his pursuer. But directly inhis path was an excavation of considerable size and depth. Ernestpaused on the brink to consider whether to descend the sloping sidesor to go round it. The delay was fatal. The tramp saw his advantage, and, pushing forward, seized him by the collar. 

"I've caught you!" he cried, triumphantly. "Now give me the money. "

There was a brief struggle, but a boy, even a strong boy, was no matchfor a man taller and heavier than himself. The gold pieces weresnatched from him, and the tramp, releasing his hold, was about tomake off in triumph when he found himself seized in turn. 

"Why, you contemptible thief!" exclaimed Luke Robbins, for it was hewhose opportune coming had saved Ernest from being plundered. "Are youtrying to rob the boy?"

He seized the tramp by the collar, forced him to give up the gold hehad just snatched from Ernest, and flung him on his back. 

The tramp's surprise deepened to dismay when, looking up, he saw thestalwart hunter with stern face looking down upon him. 

"It was my money, " he whined. 

"Your money, you owdacious liar! Don't tell me that or I'll treat youworse. "

"But it was. I had hidden it under a tree. I came along just as theboy dug it up. I told him to give it to me, for it was mine, but hewouldn't, and then I chased him. "

"What's the truth of the matter, Ernest?" asked Luke. 

"It was money that Peter Brant had hidden away. He told me on hisdeathbed where to look for it. "

"I thought it was Peter's. "

"I had just dug it up and put it in my pocket when this man camealong. He ordered me to give it him. "

"Did he say he hid it there?"

"No. He said that Peter owed him money, and he wanted it. "

"You appear to be a very ingenious liar, " remarked Luke, turning tothe tramp. "Which of these stories do you want me to believe?"

"I hid it there!" said the tramp, doggedly. 

"Then why did you tell the boy that Peter owed you money?"

"Because I didn't think he would believe that I hid it. "

"You are right there. He don't believe it, nor do I. One thingmore--were you the man that broke into his cabin and stole two goldpieces from his trunk?"

"No. I don't know anything about it. "

"Of course you would deny it. All the same, I have no doubt that youwere the man. "

"If I had done it he would have seen me. "

"That won't go down. He was asleep. Ernest, what shall I do with thisfellow? Shall I shoot him?" and Luke Robbins pulled out a revolver, which he handled in a significant way. 

"Don't shoot! Spare my life, Mr. Robbins!" cried the tramp, in greatalarm. 

"Humph! I don't see the good. Your life is of no value to the world. "

"Let him go, Luke, " said Ernest, "but tell him to clear out of thisneighborhood. "

"It is treating him too well. Still, I will do as you say. Hark, youfellow, what is your name?"

"Tom Burns. "

"You are a disgrace to the name of Burns. If I spare your life willyou leave this neighborhood and never come back?"

"Yes, yes, " answered the tramp, earnestly. 

"You'd better keep that promise. If I ever catch sight of you again, I'll shoot with out asking you any questions. Now _get!_"

Tom Burns got up and started away with celerity. He thought it wise toput as great a distance as possible between himself and the tall andstalwart hunter, fearing that he would repent his leniency and end hislife by a stray bullet. 

"I'll scare him a little, " said Luke. 

He fired after the fugitive, taking care not to hit him, however. TomBurns heard the bullet whistling by his head, and with a cry of terrorincreased his speed till he reached a place where he felt secure. Then, sinking down on the ground, he uttered an ejaculation of relief. 

"That is a terrible man!" he panted. "He'd as soon take my life asnot. I won't get in his way again if I can help it. "

Luke Robbins laughed. 

"That is my parting message, " he said. "Well, Ernest, where do youwant to go? What are your plans?"

"I don't know, " answered Ernest, gravely. "I am not sure that I haveany plans. I feel upset completely. "

"Sit down here and I'll talk to you. "

He pointed to a little ridge which would serve as a seat. 

The two sat down together. 

"Now, how much money have you got?"

"A hundred dollars, "

"It isn't much. Is that all your uncle left?"

"I think so. He said nothing about having more. "

"It isn't much to begin the world with. I wish for your sake, boy, that I had some to give you, but I never knew how to get togethermoney. "

"I guess it will do, Luke. I have health and strength. I think I canmake my way. "

"But you have no trade. "

"Have you?"

"No, Ernest. You've got me there. I am only a hunter, but I don't makemuch of a living. I don't recommend you to follow in my steps. I'dlike to keep you with me, but it wouldn't pay you. "

"One thing is certain, Luke. I must get away from here. There isnothing I can do in Oak Forks. "

"Where do you want to go, lad?"

"I don't know. I might go eastward to Chicago or New York, or I mightgo West to California. Have you ever been to either place, Luke?"

"No, lad, but if I had my choice I'd go westward. I've heard finestories of California. I think I should like to see that land, andpush on to the Pacific ocean. "

"Why don't you go?"

"Stop a minute! Let me think!"

The hunter assumed a thoughtful look. He remained silent for fiveminutes. Then he said, as if to himself, "Why not?"

Ernest still kept silence, but his eyes were fixed upon the face ofthe hunter. 

Finally Luke looked up. 

"How do you want to go, lad?" he asked. "Do you want to go by therailroad, or are you in for a tramp over the mountains and plains?"

"That depends on whether I am to go alone or not. If I go alone Ishall prefer to go by rail. "

"Are you in for a long tramp with me?" asked Luke, his face glowingwith new-born enthusiasm. 

"I will go anywhere with you, Luke. "

"Then it is agreed. We will start to-morrow. "

CHAPTER VII. 

ON THE ROAD. 

Nothing could have pleased Ernest better than to travel with thecompanionship of Luke Robbins. He felt that he should be safe with thesturdy hunter, who was strong, resolute, and reliable. 

True, he was not a man who had succeeded, as men reckon success. Hehad lived comfortably, but it had never occurred to him to lay upmoney, nor indeed had he had any opportunity to do so. He mentionedthis as an objection to the trip which he had himself proposed. 

"My lad, " he said, "I am afraid I can't go with you, after all. "

"Why not, Luke?"

"Because you're rich, compared with me. "

"I have but a hundred dollars. "

"And I well, lad, I'm ashamed to say so, but I have only fifteen. "

"We'll share and share alike, Luke. "

"No, lad. Luke Robbins is too proud to live upon a boy. I reckon I'dbetter stay at home. "

"But I want you to go and take care of me, Luke. How can I travelalone?"

Luke brightened up. 

"That puts a different face on it, Ernest. If you think you need me, I'll go. "

"I do need you. "

"Then go I will; but one thing is understood--I won't take any of yourmoney. "

"There won't be any trouble on that score, Luke. "

So the two prepared for their trip. Ernest, with Luke's help, purchased an outfit, and on the morning of the third day the twostarted out together, neither having a very definite idea where theywere going except that their course was westward. 

Luke knew very little of the States and Territories that lay betweenOak Forks and the Pacific coast. Ernest, whose education was decidedlysuperior to his companion's, was able to give him some information. Sothey plodded on, making slow progress, but enjoying the unconventionallife, and the scenery on the way. 

They were in no hurry. They stopped to hunt and fish, and when theweather was unfavorable they stayed overnight at some wayside cabin. When the nights were fine they camped out, and enjoyed a sound restunder the open canopy of heaven. 

Part of their way led through woods and over prairies, but here andthere they came to a thriving village. There was little occasion tospend money, but still they were compelled to use some. 

One day--it was some weeks from the time when they started--Luketurned to Ernest with a sober face. 

"Ernest, " he said, "I think you'll have to leave me at the nextpoor-house. "

"Why, Luke?"

"Because my money is nearly all gone. I started with fifteen dollars. Now I have but one. "

"But I have plenty left. "

"That doesn't help me. "

"I want to share it with you, Luke. "

"Don't you remember what I said when we set out, lad?"

"What was it?"

"That I would not touch a dollar of your money. "

"Then do you mean to leave me alone, Luke?" pleaded Ernestreproachfully. 

"You are a boy and I am a man. I'm forty years old, Ernest. Is itright that I should live on a boy less than half my age?"

Ernest looked at him in perplexity. 

"Is there no way of getting more money?" he asked. 

"If we were in California now, and at the mines, I might make shift tofill my purse; but there are no mines hereabouts. "

"Let us keep on, and something may turn up. "

When this conversation took place they were approaching Emmonsville, athriving town in Nebraska. As they walked through the principalstreet, it was clear that something had happened which had createdgeneral excitement. Groups of people were talking earnestly, and theirfaces wore a perturbed and anxious look. 

"What's the matter?" asked Luke, addressing a well-to-do appearingman. 

"Haven't you heard of the bank robbery over at Lee's Falls?"

"No. "

"Two men, fully armed, rode up to the door, and, dismounting, enteredthe bank. One stepped up to the window of the paying teller, andcovering him with his revolver, demanded five thousand dollars. At thesame time the other stood in the doorway, also with a loadedrevolver. "

"Why didn't the teller shoot him down?" asked Luke. 

"My friend, bank officers are not provided with loaded revolvers whenon duty. Besides, the ruffian had the drop on him. "

"Well?" asked Luke. 

"What could the teller do? Life is more than money, and he had noalternative. The fellow got the money. "

"Did he get away with it?"

"Yes; they both mounted their horses and rode off, no one daring tointerfere. Each held his revolver in readiness to shoot the first manthat barred his way. "

"Where did you say this happened?"

"At Lee's Falls. "

"Is it near at hand?"

"It is fifteen miles away. "

"But why should that robbery create excitement here?"

"Because we have a bank here, and we are expecting a visit from thesame parties. "

"Who are they?"

"They are supposed to be the Fox brothers, two of the most notoriouscriminals in the West. Numberless stories are told of their boldrobberies, both from individuals and from banks. "

"How long have these fellows been preying upon the community?"

"We have heard of them hereabouts for three years. It is said theycame from Missouri. "

"Is there no one brave enough or bold enough to interfere with them?"

"More than one has tried it, but no one has succeeded. Twice they werecaptured by a posse of men, but in each case they broke jail before itwas time for the trial. 

"It seems to me you haven't many men of spirit in Nebraska. "

"Perhaps you think you would be a match for them, " said the citizen ina sarcastic tone. 

Luke Robbins smiled and handled his revolver in a significant way. 

"If you think you can kill or capture them, stranger, there's a chanceto make a good sum of money. "

"How is that?"

"A thousand dollars is offered for either, dead or alive. "

"A thousand dollars!" repeated Luke, his face glowing with excitement. "Is that straight?"

"It will be paid cheerfully. You can bet on that. "

"Who offers it?"

"The Governor of the State. "

Luke Robbins became thoughtful and remained silent. 

"Did you hear that, lad?" he asked, when he and Ernest were alone. 

"Yes, Luke. "

"A thousand dollars would do us a great deal of good. "

"That is true, Luke, but it would be as much as your life is worth tohunt the rascals. "

"Don't try to make a coward of me, Ernest. "

"I couldn't do that, Luke. I only want you to be prudent. "

"Listen, lad. I want that thousand dollars, and I'm going to make atry for it. Come along with me. "

"Where are you going?"

"To the bank. I'm going to have a talk with the officers, and thenI'll decide what to do. "

CHAPTER VIII. 

THE QUAKER DETECTIVE. 

At the Emmonsville bank they were on their guard. The expectation of avisit from the Fox brothers caused anxiety and apprehension. The evilreputation of these men, and their desperate character, made themformidable. 

When Luke Robbins entered the place he was regarded with suspicion. His hunting-costume was not unlike that of a bandit. But the fact thathe had a young companion tended to disarm suspicion. No one couldsuspect Ernest of complicity with outlaws, and the Fox brothers hadnever been known to carry a boy with them. 

Luke was unused to banks. So far as he knew, he had never entered onebefore. He looked around him in uncertainty, and finally approachedthe window of the receiving teller. 

"Are you the boss of this institution?" he asked. 

The teller smiled. 

"No, " he said. "Perhaps you want to see the president?"

"I guess he's the man. "

"If you will give me a hint of the nature of your business, I willspeak to him. "

"I hear you're expectin' a visit from the Fox brothers. "

"Have you anything to do with them?" asked the teller with somesuspicion. 

"I want to have something to do with them, " returned Luke. 

"I don't understand you. "

"Then I'll tell you what I mean. I hear there's a big reward out fortheir capture. "

"A thousand dollars. "

"I want that thousand dollars, and I want it bad. "

"I shall be very glad if you become entitled to it. Any one who willrid the State of either of these notorious outlaws will richly deserveit. "

"That's the business I came about. Now can I see the president, ifthat's what you call him?"

"Wait a minute and I will find out. "

The teller went to an inner room, and returned with a stout, gray-headed man of about fifty. 

He looked curiously at Luke through the window. Then, as if reassured, he smiled. 

"I understand you want to see me, " he said. 

"Yes. "

"About the Fox brothers?"

"You're right there, squire. "

"Go to the last door and I will admit you. "

Luke Robbins did as directed, and soon found himself in the office ofthe president of the bank. 

"You are anxious to secure the reward offered for the capture of theseoutlaws, I believe. "

"That's straight. "

"Why do you come to me, then?"

"Because a man told me you expected a visit from them. "

"That is not quite exact. I don't expect a visit, but I am afraid theymay take it into their heads to call here. "

"Suppose they do. "

A shade of anxiety appeared upon the face of the president. 

"We should try to foil their plans, " he answered. 

"Wouldn't you like to have me on hand when they come?"

The president looked over Luke Robbins carefully. He was impressed byhis bold, resolute air, and muscular figure. Evidently he would be adangerous man to meet. 

"You are a strong, resolute fellow, I judge, " he said thoughtfully. 

"Try me and see. "

"You would not be afraid to meet these villains single-handed?"

"I never saw the man yet that I was afraid to meet. "

"So far, so good, but it is not so much strength that is needed asquickness. A weak man is more than a match for a strong one if he getsthe drop on him. "

"That's so, but I reckon it'll take a smart man to get the drop on me. 

"What have you to propose? I suppose you have formed some plan. "

"I would like to stay around the bank, and be on the watch for thesefellows. "

"Remain here and I will consult with the cashier. "

Five minutes later the president rejoined his visitor. 

"I have no objection to securing your services, " he said, "if it canbe done without exciting suspicion. In your present dress your missionwould at once be guessed, and the outlaws would be on their guard. Have you any objection to changing your appearance?"

"Not a particle. All I want is to get a lick at them outlaws. "

"Then I think we shall have to make you a little less formidable. Haveyou any objections to becoming a Quaker?"

Luke Robbins laughed. 

"What! one of those broad-brimmed fellows?" he said. 

"Yes. "

"Will I look the character?"

"Dress will accomplish a good deal. I will tell you what put the ideainto my head. We used to employ as janitor an old Quaker--a good, honest, reliable man. He was about your build. A year since he died, but we have hanging up in my office the suit he was accustomed towear. Put it on, and it will make a complete change in yourappearance. Your face will hardly correspond to your dress, but thosewho see the garb won't look any further. "

"That's all right, boss. I don't care how you dress me up. But whatwill I do?"

"I think it will be well for you to keep near the bank, watchingcarefully all who approach. You never saw the Fox brothers, Ipresume?"

"I never had that pleasure. "

"Most people don't regard it as a pleasure. I will give you somedescription of them, which may help you to identify them. One is atall man, very nearly as tall as yourself; the other is at least threeinches shorter. Both have dark hair, which they wear long. They have aswaggering walk, and look their real characters. "

"I don't think it'll be hard to spot them. They generally ride onhorseback, don't they?"

"Generally, but not always. They rode into Lee's Falls and up to thebank entrance on horseback. Perhaps for that reason they may appear indifferent guise here. "

"You haven't any pictures of them, have you?"

The president laughed. 

"No one was ever bold enough to invite them into a photographer's tohave their pictures taken, " he said. 

"I see. Well, I think I shall know them. "

"Perhaps not. They often adopt disguises. "

"They won't come as Quakers?"

"That is hardly likely. I can give you one help. However they may bedressed, their eyes will betray them. They have flashing black ones, and sharp, aquiline noses. "

"I'll know them, " said Luke confidently. 

"I observe that you have a boy with you?

"Yes. "

"Is it your son?"

"No; I wish he were. I'd be proud to have such a son as that. "

"Perhaps we can use him. The bank messenger--a young man--is sick, andhe can take his place temporarily. "

"Is there any pay for such work?"

"Yes, but it is small. We will give him ten dollars a week. Of coursehe must be honest and trustworthy. "

"I'll stake my life on that boy, boss, " said Luke warmly. 

"His appearance is in his favor. Will you call him?"

Ernest was waiting in the doorway. He was anxious to learn the resultof Luke's interview with the president of the bank. He had thought itvery doubtful whether his proposal would be looked upon favorably, buthoped some good might come of it. 

"The boss wants to see you, " announced Luke. 

"All right; I will follow you. What luck are you meeting with, Luke?"

"Good. I've hired out to the bank as a Quaker detective. "

Ernest stared at his companion in astonishment. He thought it was ajoke. 

When he came into the presence of the president the latter said, "Iunderstand from your friend here that you would like employment?"

"I should, " answered Ernest promptly. 

"The post of bank messenger is temporarily vacant. Would you like it?"

"Yes, sir, if you think I can fill it. "

"You are rather young for the place, but I think you will fill itsatisfactorily. We will instruct you in the duties. "

"Very well, sir; I accept it with thanks. "

"Of course it is necessary that you should be honest and reliable. Butupon those points I have no doubt. Your face speaks for you. "

"Thank you, sir. When do you wish me to begin my duties?"

"To-morrow. I suppose you are not as yet provided with aboarding-place. You can get settled to-day, and report at the bankto-morrow morning at nine. "

"Wait here a minute, Ernest, " said Luke. "I will join you at once. "

When Luke emerged from the president's room he was attired in theQuaker costume of his predecessor. Ernest stared at him for a moment, then burst into a loud laugh. 

"Why does thee laugh?" asked Luke mildly. 

This sent Ernest into a second convulsion. 

"Do I look like a man of peace?" asked Luke. 

"Yes; shall you live up to the character?"

"Until I see the Fox brothers. Then the lamb will become a lion. "

CHAPTER IX. 

AN ARMED ESCORT. 

Luke Robbins entered at once upon his duties as janitor of theEmmonsville bank. It was rather difficult, however, to supply him withemployment enough to account for his being in constant attendance. 

He was provided with a broom, and in the morning swept the bank. Sometimes he washed the windows; at other times he sat on a bench inthe rear of the bank, ready for any call upon his services. So far asgarb went, he resembled a Quaker, but his brown face and sharp eyeshardly harmonized with his assumed character. Still less did therevolver which he carried in an inside pocket. 

Several days passed, and though Luke kept a sharp lookout for the Foxbrothers, he did not catch a glimpse of anyone who suggested orresembled them. 

Then one morning Luke went to the bank as usual and put on his Quakergarb. 

About eleven o'clock an elderly man appeared and presented a check forfive hundred dollars. The money was paid him, and then he lingered amoment, ill at ease. 

"I don't like to have so much money about me, " he said, in a tone thatbetrayed anxiety. 

"No doubt you will find plenty who would be willing to relieve you ofit, " rejoined the paying teller, with a smile. 

"That's what I am afraid of. They do say that the Fox brothers havebeen seen not far away. "

"Is it absolutely necessary that you should have the money in yourpossession? You could leave it in the bank, or most of it. "

"I shall want to use some of it to-morrow, and I live ten milesaway--in Claremont. "

"How are you going back?"

"I have a buggy outside. "

"The road to Claremont is rather lonely, I believe. "

"Yes. "

"Why don't you get some one to go with you?"

"I don't know any one I could get. "

"I can find you a companion, but he would want to be paid. "

"I'll pay him if he'll see me through all right. "

"I have the very man for you. Here, Luke!"

Luke Robbins heard the call and approached. 

"The farmer looked at him doubtfully. 

"A Quaker?" he said, in a disappointed tone. 

"He is no more a Quaker than you are. He is a detective, and veryanxious to meet either of the Fox brothers. "

The farmer brightened up. 

"He's the man I'm after, then. "

A bargain was struck between Luke and Ezekiel Mason, whereby thefarmer promised to pay him five dollars to accompany him home andremain over night at the farm-house until he had disposed of the moneythe way he intended. 

Luke was glad to accept the proposal. It promised variety, andpossibly adventure. The farmer climbed into the buggy, and the Quakerdetective, following, took a seat by his side. 

After they had driven some time they reached a part of the road wherefor a clear mile in advance there was not a house or building of anykind to be seen. 

"This is the place I was most afraid of, " said the farmer. 

"Yes, it seems to be lonely. I wish one of the Fox brothers wouldhappen along. "

"Why?" asked the farmer, in a tone of alarm. 

"Because I would like to tackle him. "

"Why are you so anxious to tackle him? I cannot understand. "

"Then I'll tell you, my honest friend. There is a reward of a thousanddollars offered for the capture of one of these famous outlaws, deador alive. "

Ezekiel Mason shrugged his shoulders. 

"I'd rather earn the money some other way!" he said. 

"You are only a peaceful farmer, while I am a fighting Quaker, "responded Luke. 

As he spoke he looked up the road, and his glance fell upon a short, compactly built man, in a gray suit, who was walking towards them. Heseemed a quiet, commonplace person, but there was something about himthat attracted Luke's attention. 

"Do you know that man?" he asked abruptly. 

"No, " answered Mason, after a rapid glance. 

"Are the Fox brothers tall men?" asked Luke. 

"One only. "

"The other?"

"Is about the size of the man who is approaching. "

Luke did not reply, but examined still more critically the advancingpedestrian. 

"If this should be one of the Foxes, " he began. 

"Do you think it is?" asked the farmer in a terrified tone. 

"I can't tell. If it proves to be, do exactly as I tell you. "

"Yes, " replied the farmer, now thoroughly alarmed. 

By this time the new-comer was but twenty feet distant. Though hisappearance and dress were commonplace, his eyes, as they could see, were dark and glittering. 

He made a halt. 

"Friends, " he said, "can you oblige me with the time?"

The farmer was about to produce his big, old-fashioned, silver watch, when Luke nudged him sharply. 

"Leave him to me, " he whispered, in a tone audible only to the farmer. 

"Thee has asked the wrong party, " he said aloud. "We don't carrywatches. "

The pedestrian regarded him with contempt. Whoever he might be, helooked upon a Quaker as a mild, inoffensive person, hardly deservingthe name of man. 

"I didn't speak to you, " he said scornfully. 

CHAPTER X. 

THE ASTONISHED OUTLAW. 

The pedestrian's next move was a bold one. 

"I am tired, " he said. "Give me a ride. "

"Will thee excuse us?" said the Quaker meekly. 

"Oh, shut up!" cried the assumed pedestrian. "Quakers should be seenand not heard. "

Then, to the farmer, "I am tired. Let me into your carriage. "

"There is no room, " said the farmer nervously. 

"Then tell the Quaker to get out, and I will take his place. "

Ezekiel Mason was by no means a brave man, and he did not know what tosay to this impudent proposal. 

He looked appealingly at Luke. 

"I will accommodate the gentleman, " said the latter meekly. With thewords he rose from his seat and jumped to the ground. 

"Shall I assist thee?" he asked the stranger in a mild voice. 

"No; I am quite capable of getting into the carriage without help froma meddlesome Quaker. "

"Indeed, thee does me injustice. "

The stranger did not immediately get into the buggy. 

"I don't care to ride, after all, " he said coolly. "Just hand me yourmoney, you old clodhopper. "

The worst had come. The new arrival was evidently one of the Foxbrothers, after all. 

"Indeed, I have no money, " said the terrified farmer. 

This was true, for he had put the wallet, containing the five hundreddollars, into the hands of Luke. 

"You lie! You have just come from the Emmonsville bank, where you drewa large amount. "

At this proof of knowledge on the part of the outlaw the farmer wasalmost paralyzed. 

It appeared to him that the robber must be supernaturally gifted. 

"I haven't got it now, " he said. 

"You lie!" cried the outlaw sternly. "Come down here and give up themoney, or I'll shoot you. "

"You can search me, " said Mason desperately. 

"Come down, then. "

"Thee is very unkind, " observed Luke. 

"Shut up, you meddlesome Quaker! It none of your business. "

"Thee had better come down and let the man search thee, " said Luke tothe farmer. 

Ezekiel Mason had been waiting for a hint from Luke, in whom herecognized a master spirit. His only hope was in his companion. 

"Art thee Mr. Fox?" asked Luke in a tone of mild inquiry. 

"I'll let you know who I am, " was the swaggering reply. 

Though he was but one man opposed to two, he had no fears. The farmerwas evidently cowed and terrified, while the Quaker seemed, thoughlarge, to be peaceable and harmless. 

But in his judgment of Luke the outlaw was very much at fault. Whenthreatening the farmer he had covered him with his revolver, but as hewas preparing to leave the buggy he carelessly lowered it. Luke, whowas aching to attack him, noticed this. 

While Fox, for it was one of the notorious brothers, was standing incareless security the Quaker sprang upon him like a panther upon hisprey. He knocked the revolver from his hand with one powerful blow, felled him to the ground, and placed his foot upon his prostrate form. 

Never, perhaps, in a career crowded with exciting adventures had theoutlaw been so thoroughly surprised. 

"What the mischief does this mean?" he ejaculated, struggling to rise. 

"It means that thee has mistaken thy man, " answered Luke coolly. 

"Let me go or I'll kill you!" shrieked the outlaw fiercely. 

"If you try to get up I'll put a bullet through your head, " repliedLuke, pointing at him with his own revolver. 

In his excitement he had dropped his Quaker speech, and this theoutlaw noted. 

"Are you a Quaker? he asked abruptly. 

"No more than you are, " answered Luke. "Farmer, bring out the rope. "

Ezekiel Mason, from the bottom of the buggy, produced a long and stoutpiece of clothes-line. 

"What do you mean to do?" inquired the outlaw uneasily. 

"You will see soon enough. No, don't try to get up, as you value yourlife. Now tie him, Mason, while I keep him covered with the revolver. "

[Illustration: "Now tie him, Mason, while I keep him covered with therevolver. "]

"We've had enough of this, " said the outlaw sullenly. "Let me go, andI'll do you no harm. "

"I don't mean that you shall, my honest friend. "

"But if you persist in this outrage, I swear that you will be a deadman within thirty days. "

"Be careful how you talk, or you may be a dead man within thirtyminutes, " answered Luke. 

While the outlaw was covered by Luke's revolver, farmer Mason, thoughhis tremulous hands showed that he was nervous, managed to tie himsecurely. Fox began to under stand the sort of man with whom he wasdealing and remained silent, but his brain was busy trying to devisesome method of escape. 

At length the dangerous prisoner was securely tied. 

"What shall we do with him?" asked Ezekiel. 

"Where's the nearest prison?

"At Crampton. "

"How far away?"

"Twelve miles. "

"In what direction?"

"It is four miles beyond Claremont, " answered the farmer. 

"Where you live?"

"Yes. "

"Then we will go there first. "

"But how shall we carry this gentleman?" asked the farmer, who couldnot get over a feeling of deference for the celebrated outlaw. 

[Illustration: "NOW TIE HIM, MASON, WHILE I KEEP HIM COVERED WITH THEREVOLVER. "]

"We'll put him into the back part of the buggy. "

By the united efforts of both, the outlaw, like a trussed fowl, wasdeposited bodily in the rear of the carriage, where he lay in a mostuncomfortable position, jolted and shaken whenever the road was roughor uneven. It was a humiliating position, and he felt it. 

"You'll repent this outrage, " he said fiercely. 

"Doesn't thee like it?" asked Luke, relapsing into his Quaker dialect. 

"Curse you and your Quaker lingo!" retorted Fox, his black eyessparkling vindictively. 

"It wouldn't do thee any harm to turn Quaker thyself, " suggested Luke. 

"I'll be bruised to death before the ride is over, " growled theoutlaw. 

"There is one way of saving you the discomfort of the ride. "

"What is that?"

"I might shoot you through the head. As the reward is the same whetherI deliver you alive or dead, I have almost determined to do it. "

The outlaw was made still more uncomfortable by these words. He hadwholly misunderstood Luke at first, and the revelation of his realcharacter had impressed him not only with respect, but with fear. Hedid not know of what this pseudo Quaker might be capable. He longed insome way to get out of his power. Force was impracticable, and heresolved to resort to finesse. 

"Look here, my friend, " he began. 

"So you regard me as a friend? Thank you, brother Fox; I won't forgetit. "

"Oh, bother your nonsense! I suppose you are after the thousanddollars offered for my apprehension. "

"You have guessed right the first time. I am not a rich man, and Idon't mind telling you that a thousand dollars will be particularlyacceptable just about now. "

"So I supposed. You don't feel particularly unfriendly to me?"

"Oh, no. I might under different circumstances come to love you like abrother. "

"Or join my band?"

"Well, no; I draw the line there. As a Quaker I could not consistentlyjoin a band of robbers. "

"Who are you?" asked Fox abruptly. "You weren't raised around here. "

"No. "

"Where, then?"

"I come from Iowa. "

"What is your name?"

"My friend, I haven't any visiting cards with me. You can think of meas the Quaker detective. "

"Then I will come to business. You want a thousand dollars?"

"You are correct there. "

"Then I will show you a way to get it. "

"I know one way already. "

"You mean by delivering me up?"

"Yes. "

"That would not suit me. Let me go, and I will give you a thousanddollars. "

"Have you got it with you?"

"No, but I can arrange to give it to you within a week. You see, "added the outlaw dryly, "I have been prosperous in my business, andcan snare that sum in return for the favor you are going to do me ingiving me my liberty. "

"I am afraid, friend Fox, that my chance of securing the money in thatway would be very slender. "

"I am a man of my word. What I promise, that I will do. "

"If you have so much money, why did you want to take the five hundreddollars of my friend here?"

"It was all in the way of business. Well, what do you say?"

"That I won't trust you. If I should take your thousand dollars forreleasing you I should be as bad as you are. "

"Very well; drive on, then, " said the outlaw sullenly. 

In less than an hour Ezekiel Mason's home was reached. When they droveinto the yard it made quite a sensation. Mrs. Mason and the hired manstood staring at them with mouths agape. 

"Who have you got there, Ezekiel?" asked his wife. 

"One of the Fox brothers!" answered the farmer in an important tone. "Me and my friend here took him. "

Luke smiled, and so did the prisoner, uncomfortable though he was. 

"It would have taken a dozen like that fool to have captured me, " hesaid in a low voice, but only Luke heard him. 

CHAPTER XI. 

UNDER WATCH AND WARD. 

The farm-house was built after the model of many similar houses in NewEngland. It was of two stories, with the front door in the centre anda room on each side. Over the two stories was an unfurnished attic. 

"Have you a secure place to keep our friend here?" asked Luke. 

The farmer paused before he answered. 

"I might put him in the attic, " he said. 

But here his wife interfered. 

"I couldn't sleep if he were in the house, " she said. 

"Why not?" asked Luke. "You see he is securely bound, and will be ashelpless as a child. Will you show me the attic?"

"Follow me, " said the farmer. 

They went up two flights of stairs, and found themselves in a longroom, the whole width of the house. Through the centre rose thechimney. The sloping roof was not plastered. The only furnitureconsisted of a cot-bedstead and a chair. 

"Is the attic occupied by any of the family?" asked Luke. 

"Not generally. When I hire an extra hand at harvest-time he sleepsthere. "

"But at present there is no one occupying it?"

"No. "

"Then I suggest that the bed will prove a good resting-place for ourfriend below. I have no doubt he has often found himself in lodgingsless comfortable. "

"But, " said Mrs. Mason, nervously, "if he should get free during thenight he might murder us all in our beds. "

"There is little chance of that. When your husband bound him, he did agood job. I wouldn't undertake to get free myself, if I were bound assecurely. "

"That's so!" said the farmer, pleased with the compliment. "He can'tget away nohow. "

Over in the corner there were a couple of horse-blankets, which seemedto offer a comfortable resting-place. Luke Robbins eyed themthoughtfully. 

"I have an idea, " he said. "Let the outlaw lie there, and one of us canoccupy the bed. Then he won't be able to try any of his tricks. "

"I would rather not sleep there, " observed the farmer nervously. "Icouldn't sleep in the same room with one of the Fox brothers. "

"Then if you couldn't sleep there you are just the man we want. Youwill always be on the watch, and can frustrate any attempt to escape. "

"No, no, " said Ezekiel Mason, hurriedly. "Kate could not close hereyes if she thought I were alone with John Fox. "

"No, " answered Mrs. Mason, with a shudder, "I won't let Ezekiel sleepin the same room with that bold, bad man. "

"I wouldn't be afraid myself, " said the farmer, trying to keep up hisreputation for courage, "but I don't want my wife to be anxious. "

Luke Robbins smiled, for he understood very well the timidity of hishost. "Then, " he said, "as I have no wife to be anxious about me, perhaps I had better sleep here. "

"Yes, that will be much better, " rejoined the relieved farmer. "Youare a brave man. Mr. Fox won't get the better of you. "

"Not if I can help it, " said Luke. "Will that suit you, Mrs. Mason?"

"Why don't you take him on to the jail at once?" asked the woman. "Ishall feel worried if he spends the night in this house. "

"I hear that he has escaped from jail no less than three times. If heshould do so to-night he would at once come here, and perhaps bringsome of his band with him. He knows there is a good sum of money inthe house. "

"I shall be glad when it is paid out, " said the farmer's wife. 

"Don't worry, Mrs. Mason. I have promised your husband that no harmshould come to him and that the money should be secure, and I willkeep my word. "

"So you did, " said Ezekiel, brightening up, "and I will pay you what Iagreed, if you keep your promise. "

"Friend Mason, " responded Luke, "I am playing for higher stakes thanfive dollars. All depends on my keeping this outlaw secure. I mean todo it. "

Having settled matters, they went down stairs again, where they foundtheir prisoner waiting impatiently for their reappearance. 

"Well, " he said, "have you decided to let me go?"

"I am sorry to disappoint you, my friend, " answered Luke, "but I don'tsee my way clear to do so. "

"I promised you a thousand dollars if you would release me. "

"Yes, but I haven't any confidence in that promise. "

"You need not fear. In three days I would bring or send the money toyou here. "

"Couldn't you oblige me with a check on the bank where youkeep your money?" asked Luke, smiling. 

"I keep my money in several banks, " returned the outlaw. 

"Where, for instance?"

"I had some in the bank at Lee's Falls, but I drew it out the otherday. "

"So I heard. Have you any money in the Emmonsville bank?"

"Yes, but I am not quite ready to take it yet. I can give you an orderon the bank, if that will suit. "

"Thank you; I doubt if the order would be honored. "

"All this talk amounts to nothing, " said Fox, impatiently. "I tell youthat if you release me I will bring or send you the money. "

"And how soon would you want it back again?"

"Whenever I saw my way clear to taking it, " said the outlaw, boldly. 

"I like that talk. It looks square. I'll think over your offer, friendFox, and let you know in the morning what I decide to do. "

The outlaw frowned. He evidently did not like the prospect ofremaining in captivity over night. 

"What are you going to do with me to-night?" he asked. 

"We have a comfortable place provided, " answered Luke. "Mr. Mason, ifyou will give your assistance, we will show our guest where we proposeto put him. "

"Unbind me, and I will save you the trouble. "

"No doubt, but there are some objections to that. "

The outlaw was lifted from the wagon and carried up stairs to theattic. His ankles as well as his wrists were securely tied, so that hewas unable to walk. 

"Friend Fox, " said Luke, politely, "there is a bed, and there is ashake-down, " pointing to the blankets on the floor. "You can take yourchoice. I hope you will like your hotel. "

"I shall like it better if it provides refreshments, " replied Fox. "Iam simply famished. "

"I am sure Mrs. Mason will furnish you with a meal. I will speak toher. "

The outlaw seated himself on the bed, and the cord about his wristswas loosened so that he might be able to eat. This might have beenregarded as dangerous, as affording him an opportunity to escape, butfor two reasons. 

In a chair opposite sat Luke Robbins, with a revolver in his hand, watching his prisoner sharply. 

"If you make any attempt to escape, " he said quietly, "I shall shoot. Now you understand, and will be guided accordingly. "

In spite of his unpleasant situation, the outlaw could not helpadmiring the coolness and resolution of his guard. 

"You would make a capital accession to my band, " he remarked. 

"If that is meant for a compliment, " said Luke, dryly, "I thank you. "

"You had better think it over. Join my band, and I will make it worthyour while. "

He fixed his eyes earnestly upon his captor, to see whether he hadmade any impression upon him. 

"When I start on any road, " he said, "I like to know where it iscoming out. "

"Well, this road will lead to wealth. "

"I don't read it that way. "

"How, then?"

"It will more likely lead to a violent death--or the gallows. "

"I have been on that path for ten years, and I am alive, and--"

"A prisoner. "

"Yes, at present; but I can tell you this, my Quaker friend, that thetree has not yet grown that will furnish a gallows for John Fox. "

"Perhaps so, but I don't feel sure of it. "

The outlaw's predicament did not appear to interfere with hisappetite. He ate his dinner with evident relish, and left nothing onthe plate. When he had completed his meal, Luke called the farmer andrequested him to tie his wrists again. 

"You can do it better than I, " he said. "Besides, I shall need tostand guard. "

I was well that he did so, for John Fox, if there had been the leastchance of success, would have overpowered the farmer and effected hisescape. But with the eye of Luke Robbins upon him, and the pistol inhis hand ready to go off at an instant's notice, there was nothing todo but to submit to being rebound. 

CHAPTER XII. 

THE OUTLAW'S ESCAPE. 

The outlaw was left for several hours alone in the attic of thefarmer's house. He felt far from comfortable, and he experienced greatmortification at the thought that he had been captured by a Quaker. 

"I might as well have been captured by a woman, " he said to himself. "I shall never hold up my head again--that is, " he added, after apause, "unless I circumvent him and get away. "

Fox dragged himself to the window and looked out. 

"If only my brother knew where I was, " he reflected, "he would soonturn the tables on those clodhoppers. "

But, as he knew, his brother was twenty miles away, on a differentexpedition. 

John Fox was a man of expedients. In his long career as an outlaw hehad more than once been "in a hole, " but he had never failed by somemeans or other to extricate himself. This was what he decided to do atpresent, if it were possible. 

It was not for some time that he bethought himself of a knife that hehad in his pocket. If he could get it out so as to use it, he would beable to cut the ropes that bound him and escape--that is, if he werenot interfered with. 

He looked out of the window again, and saw Luke Robbins and the farmerwalking up the road. 

"They think I am safe, " soliloquized Fox, "but perhaps they may findthemselves mistaken. "

He reflected with satisfaction that there was no one in the house butMrs. Mason and himself. She was a timid, nervous woman, who would wiltat a look from him. Yet as matters stood he was helpless even againsther. 

As it was uncertain how long his two jailers would be absent, itbehooved him to escape as soon as possible. There was of course adifficulty in the way, as his hands were securely tied together at thewrists, and he could not, therefore, thrust them into his pocket andobtain the knife. But possibly by rolling over he might manage to makeit slip out. It seemed the only possible way to accomplish his object, so he at once set to work. Rolling over and over, he at length foundhimself in such a position that the knife--a large jack-knife--slippedfrom the gaping mouth of the pocket. 

"Ha, that is the first step towards success, " he cried triumphantly. 

Next he must pick up the knife and open it. This was easier than thefirst step. His hands were tied at the wrists, but his fingers werefree to work. It seemed a simple thing to open the knife, but it tookhim some time. At last, however, he succeeded. 

"That is the second step towards liberty, " he said in a jubilant tone. 

The next thing was to cut the cord that bound his wrists. That wasdifficult. In fact, it took him longer than both the first stepstogether. It chanced, unfortunately for him, that the knife had notbeen sharpened for a long time. Then the cord was stout and thick, andeven had his hands been free, it would have taken him some time to cutit. As matters stood, he was placed at great disadvantage. 

"If they should come back it would be maddening, " he reflected, and asthe thought came to him he looked out of the window. But nowhere werethe two men visible. They had evidently no fear of his escape. 

"They are fools! They don't know me!" said the outlaw to himself. 

He resumed his efforts to cut the cord. It was slow work, butperseverance, even in a bad cause, is apt to be crowned with success, and this was the case here. After twenty minutes, the last strandparted, and, with a feeling of relief, John Fox stretched out hishands, free once more. 

His feet were still tied, but with his hands at liberty, there wasvery little difficulty in cutting the rope that tied them. 

In less that five minutes the outlaw rose to his feet a free man. 

He smiled--a smile of exultation and triumph. 

"My Quaker friend will be surprised to find me gone. He willunderstand John Fox a little better. He will have to wait a littlelonger for his thousand dollars. "

John Fox was himself again, but for the first time in ten years, except when he was the temporary tenant of a jail, he was unarmed. 

"What has that fellow done with my revolver?" he asked himself. "If itis any where in the house I won't go off without it. "

Half an hour earlier and he would have been content with his liberty. Now he wanted his revolver, and his thoughts recurred to the moneywhich the farmer had drawn that morning from the bank. It was fivehundred dollars, as Luke had rather incautiously let out. 

John Fox was not without hopes of securing both. The coast was clear, and only Mrs. Mason was left in the house. He might terrify her, andso secure the articles he had set his heart upon. But, clearly, therewas no time to be lost, as Luke and the farmer might return at anyminute. 

The outlaw went down stairs, stepping as lightly as he could. 

On the lower floor Mrs. Mason was in the kitchen, preparing theevening meal. She had at first been reluctant to remain alone in thehouse with the outlaw, but Luke had reassured her by the statementthat he was securely bound, and could not possibly get away. So, uponthe whole, she was calm, and had no fear of being molested. 

She turned from the stove at the sound of a footfall. There was thenotorious outlaw standing in the doorway with an ironical smile uponhis face. 

The terrified woman sank back into a chair and regarded John Fox witha scared look. 

"_You_ here!" she exclaimed. 

"Yes, Mrs. Mason, it is I. "

"How did you get free? My husband told me that you were bound. "

"So I was, and I will do your husband the justice to say that heunderstands his business. I had trouble to break loose. "

"How ever could you have done it?" asked the amazed woman. 

"I won't go into details, for there isn't time. Now listen to me andobey my commands. Your Quaker friend took my revolver away. I want youto get it and give it to me. "

"I can't do it, sir, for I don't know where it is. " Mrs. Mason's tonewas a terrified one. 

"That won't do, " said John Fox, sternly. "It is somewhere in thehouse. Look for it. "

"Indeed, sir, you are mistaken. I am sure that Mr. --the Quakergentleman has taken it with him. "

"I don't believe anything of the kind. He had no doubt a revolver ofhis own, and would not care to carry two. "

"You may be right, sir, but I don't know where it is. "

The outlaw felt that time was precious, and that it would not do toindulge in prolonged discussion with the woman. 

"Is there any revolver in the house?" he demanded impatiently. "Ishould prefer my own, but I will take any. "

"I will look, sir, if you wish me to. "

"Wait a moment. There is something else I must have. Where is thatfive hundred dollars your husband drew from the bank this morning?"

"I don't know. "

"Tell the truth, or it will be the worse for you. "

"I am ready to tell the truth, but I don't know. "

"Where does your husband usually keep any money he may have in thehouse?"

"In the desk in the next room. "

"Probably he has put the money there. Is the desk locked?"

"Yes. "

"Have you the key?"

"Here it is, sir, " and Mrs. Mason meekly passed him a small-sized key. 

"Good! I see you are growing sensible. Now come with me. "

Together they entered the room, and Mrs. Mason pointed to the desk. 

It was an ordinary upright desk. John Fox opened it with the key. Hewas at first afraid the woman had given him the wrong one, but shewould not have dared to deceive him. The desk opened, the outlaw beganat once to search eagerly for the money. 

There was a multiplicity of small drawers which he opened eagerly, buthe found no cash except four silver half-dollars and some smallersilver. 

"It isn't here!" he said in a tone of sullen disappointment, turning abaffled look upon the farmer's wife. 

"No, sir, I didn't think it was there. "

"Where do you think it is? Do you think your husband has it with him?"

"No, sir. "

"Where then can it be? Surely you must have some suspicion. Don't dareto trifle with me. "

"Indeed I wouldn't, sir. I think the Quaker gentleman has it. "

"Curse him!" exclaimed the outlaw angrily. "He's forever standing inmy way. Have you any other money in the house?"

"No, sir. "

"I have a great mind to kill you!" said Fox, with a look of ferocity. The terrified woman uttered a scream of dismay that excited the fierceoutlaw still more. He sprang toward her and seized her by the throat. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

THE OUTLAW'S MISTAKE. 

John Fox had been so occupied with his terrified victim that he quiteforgot the possibility of his two captors returning. 

It so happened that both were approaching the house when they heardMrs. Mason's cry of terror. 

"What's that?" exclaimed the farmer in alarm. 

"I believe that scoundrel has got loose, " answered Luke. 

He quickened his pace and entered the house just in time to become awitness of the outlaw's brutality. 

It was no time to hesitate or parley. He sprang upon the robber, dashed him to the ground, and put his foot upon his breast. 

"What deviltry are you up to, you miserable man?" he demanded. Thenturning to Mrs. Mason, he asked, "Why did he attack you?"

"He wanted my husband's money--and a revolver, " answered the tremblingwoman. 

"I have a great mind to give him the contents of the revolver, " saidLuke, sternly. 

John Fox was not a coward--on the contrary, he was a man of boldnessand courage, but as he looked up at the stern face of the Quakerdetective he quailed, almost for the first time in his life. He triedto rise, but the heavy foot of Luke Robbins was on his breast. 

"Let me up!" he growled. 

"You don't deserve to get up. You should lie there forever, for yourcowardice in attacking a woman. "

"I would rather it had been you!" said John Fox, bitterly. 

"You are safe in attacking a woman, " said the detective in scornfulsarcasm. 

The outlaw was stung by his assailant's scorn. 

"I have attacked many better men than you, " he replied, "and some havenot lived to tell the tale. "

"So you own up to being a murderer? I am ready to believe you. I havea great mind to shoot you where you lie, " and Luke pointed hisrevolver at the prostrate outlaw. 

"That would be the act of a coward, " said John Fox, hastily, his cheekturning pale, for he felt that death might be close at hand. 

"Not exactly that, for I have mastered you in a fair fight, but thereis one thing that holds back my hand. Do you know what it is?"

"Well?"

"I should cheat the gallows of its due. Here, farmer!"

Ezekiel Mason, pale and trembling, was standing on the threshold. 

"What is it?" he asked. 

"Go and get another rope. "

The farmer left the house, and going to an out-house, returned with astout clothes line. 

"Tie him again while I hold him, " was Luke's command. "Tie him assecurely as before--more so, if possible. How did you get loose?"

"Find out for yourself, " said the outlaw sullenly. 

"I mean to, and I don't intend that you shall escape the second time. "

Meanwhile John Fox was execrating his folly in not escaping when hehad the chance. If he had not waited for the revolver and money, hemight by this time have been out of danger. 

Yet he was not without hope. What he had done once he might do again. He still had the knife in his pocket. It was ready for use, and hemeant to use it. 

No doubt he would be taken back to the attic, and probably pass thenight there. If Luke Robbins should be his companion, all the better. After cutting his bonds, the knife could be put to another use, andmight end the life of the man who had inflicted such humiliation uponhim. 

He did not speak, but his eyes betrayed him. There was such arevengeful gleam in them that Luke read their meaning without trouble. 

"If I am ever at the mercy of that ruffian, " he thought, "I wouldn'tgive much for my chance of keeping a whole skin. "

When the outlaw lay securely bound, Luke summoned the farmer. 

"Watch him for five minutes, Mr. Mason, " he said. "I am going to theattic to learn, if I can, how he got loose. "

Ezekiel Mason looked uncomfortable, but did not object. He was halfafraid of John Fox even in his helpless condition. 

"Have you a revolver?"

"Yes. "

"Then take it out, and if he makes an effort to escape, shoot himwithout a moment's hesitation. "

It gratified the outlaw to see how much afraid of him the farmer was, even in his helpless condition. But he could not flatter himself thathe had inspired any terror in Luke Robbins. Against his will he wascompelled to pay tribute to the resolute courage of the Quakerdetective. As he met the gaze of the farmer he smiled to himselfsardonic ally. 

"You've got the advantage of me, " he said. 

"I am bound and helpless, while you are free and are armed. Still youare afraid of me. "

"Why should I be?" asked Mason, but his tone was not firm. 

"Yes, why should you be? I'll tell you. If ever I have you where I amnow, I'll give you fifteen minutes to say your prayers. "

"Oh, what a terrible man!" said Mrs. Mason, with a shudder. 

"You wouldn't kill him?" she ejaculated. 

"Yes, I would. But there is one way of escape. "

"What is that?"

"Loose these bonds and let me go before your Quaker friend comes downstairs, and your life will be safe, and your wife's. "

Ezekiel Mason shook his head feebly. 

"I don't dare to do it, " he said. 

"Do as you please, but the time will come when you will be sorry thatyou refused. What are you afraid of? You are armed, while I have noweapon. "

"I am afraid of Luke. "

"You needn't be. He would find fault with you, but that would be all. "

Ezekiel Mason was weak, but not weak enough to yield to thepersuasions of his prisoner. Besides, he knew that Luke would comedown from the attic directly. 

In fact he was already close at hand. He brought in his hand the cutfragments of the cord with which the outlaw had originally been bound. 

"This tells the story, " he said, holding up the rope so that thefarmer and his wife could see it. "This rope has been cut. The man hasa knife. "

John Fox darted a malignant look at him, but said nothing. 

"You are smart, John Fox, " Luke went on, "smarter than I thought. Itmust have cost you considerable trouble to cut the rope. Where is yourknife?"

John Fox did not reply. 

Luke Robbins knelt down and thrust his hand unceremoniously into theoutlaw's pocket. 

He drew out the knife which had done Fox so much service. 

"This will be safer with me than with you, " he said. 

"Would you rob me?" demanded the outlaw. 

"Yes, of anything it is not proper for you to have. "

To John Fox the disappointment was bitter. He was, if anything, moresecurely tied than before, and it would be quite impossible to loosenthe rope or free himself without the help of the knife. His hope ofgetting loose during the night and killing Luke was at an end. 

For the first time he felt hopeless, and once more he execrated hisfolly in not making good his escape as soon as he came down stairs. 

"Did he say anything while I was up stairs?" asked Luke. 

"Yes. "

"What was it?"

"He wanted me to set him free. "

"Did he offer you money?"

"No, but he threatened that he would some time take my life. "

"He is a terrible man!" said Mrs. Mason, shuddering. "I shall not feelsafe to-night with him in the house. "

"I don't propose to let him stay in the house all night. "

The prisoner, the farmer and his wife looked at Luke inquiringly. 

"I think, farmer, " said Luke, "you'd better harness up, and we willtake our friend here to the jail in Crampton. "

"What, to-night?"

"Yes, the sooner he is safely disposed of the better at any rate, wewill have shifted the responsibility to the authorities. "

"Yes, it will be better, " said Mrs. Mason. 

The buggy was made ready, and the outlaw, very much against his will, was packed in the back part of it. Towards nightfall the warden of theprison at Crampton was startled by the arrival of the farmer and Luke, bringing with them the notorious outlaw whose name was in everymouth--John Fox. He hardly knew whether to be sorry or glad, for noprison yet had been secure enough to hold him any length of time. 

"I will leave my name, " said Luke, "and I shall hereafter claim thereward for his capture. "

CHAPTER XIV. 

ERNEST HAS AN ADVENTURE. 

Luke Robbins remained at the farm-house over night and till the middleof the next day. At that hour the sum of money which Mason hadwithdrawn from the bank was transferred to the party for whom it wasintended, and Luke's mission was at an end. 

He received from the farmer the stipulated five dollars and started onhis return to Emmonsville, Ezekiel Mason driving him the greater partof the way. 

Luke arrived at the bank half an hour before it closed and reportedhis success, including the capture of John Fox. He was congratulated, but noticed that the officers of the bank looked grave. 

"Is anything the matter?" he asked. 

"Yes, " answered the cashier. "At one o'clock yesterday we sent youryoung friend Ernest with a thousand dollars in United States bonds tothe bank at Lee's Falls. He did not return last night, and we havereceived no tidings from him. "

"What do you fear?" asked Luke, hurriedly. 

"We fear that he may have been captured by some of the Fox gang, andbe at present in confinement, or else--"

"What?"

"Killed or wounded, " added the cashier. 

"He could not have met John Fox, for I held him in custody. "

"There was the other brother, James, who was at large. "

"James is the tall brother?"

"Yes. "

"Then, " said Luke, "I shall have to hunt him, too. Will you grant meleave of absence?"

"Gladly. We want to recover the bonds, but we care still more for thesafety of the boy. "

Indeed, Ernest had become popular with the bank officials, as well aswith the residents of Emmonsville. The cashier spoke truly when hesaid he cared more for the boy's safety than for the recovery of thebonds. 

"Can you tell me anything that will help me in my expedition?" askedLuke. "Have you any idea where the Fox gang would be likely to carryErnest?"

"It is generally supposed that the band have a secret rendezvoussomewhere within a dozen miles, but no one has been able to discoverwhere it is. "

"And you think that Ernest would be carried there?"

"Yes, they would hardly bring themselves to kill a young boy. Hewould, of course, be easily overpowered by a grown man, so that therewould be no excuse for murderous violence. "

"This spoils all my pleasure at capturing John Fox, " said Luke, ruefully. "I should be willing to have him go free if only I could getthe boy back. How did the boy go?"

"He walked. "

"But it was a long distance. "

"Yes, about ten miles. We at first thought of providing him with asaddle-horse, but there was one objection. "

"What was that?"

"He would have been more likely to be suspected of being out on somemission. But on foot he would not be apt to attract attention. A boyof sixteen is not very apt to be a custodian of money. "

"True. "

Leaving Luke Robbins to start on his search for Ernest, we will goback to the time when the boy messenger left the bank on the dayprevious. 

The United States bonds were inclosed in an envelope and carried in aninner pocket, which had been expressly made by an Emmonsville tailoron his first connecting himself with the bank. The pocket wasunusually deep, so as to accommodate a long parcel. 

This was the most important commission on which Ernest had beenemployed, and he was pleased with the confidence reposed in him. Hedid not dread the long walk, for he was a strong and active boy. Besides, he was authorized to accept a ride if one should be offeredhim. 

He would, of course, arrive at Lee's Falls after the bank was closed, but he was instructed to call at the residence of the cashier andleave the bonds. 

Ernest had walked three miles when he met with an adventure. 

On the borders of a small pond he caught sight of a small Indian boyplaying. He was probably not more than three years of age. A stick hewas playing with fell into the pond, and the little fellow reachedover to recover it. In doing so he lost his balance and fell into thewater; there was a scream and a splash, and Ernest no sooner saw theaccident than he ran up, threw off his coat and vest lest he shouldwet the bonds, and plunged into the pond. 

The young bank messenger was an expert swimmer, and in an instant hadseized the child and placed him out of danger. The little Indian boyclung to him instinctively, feeling safe with his young protector. 

"Where do you live, little boy?" asked Ernest. 

"Out yonder, " answered the child. 

Ernest had not been quite sure whether he would be able to understandor speak English, but having been brought up among white people, hewas as familiar with English as most white boys of his age. 

Ernest looked in the direction pointed out by the boy. At the distanceof a hundred rods he saw a rude log house, which seemed to contain butone room. Smoke was curling from a chimney projecting from the roof. Outside sat an Indian, about forty years of age, smoking a pipe. 

He seemed busily thinking, having the grave face characteristic of theaverage Indian. He did not immediately notice the approach of hislittle son. But when they were near, the Indian boy uttered a cry, pronouncing some Indian word which possibly meant "father. "

Then the red man looked up, and his grave face changed as herecognized his boy in the company of a young white stranger. 

He rose hastily from his seat, and advanced quickly to meet the twowho were approaching. 

"What has happened?" he asked in clear and distinct English. 

"Your little boy fell into the water, " explained Ernest. 

"And you saved him?"

"Yes, " answered Ernest, modestly. "I saw him fall, and jumped in afterhim. "

"Was the water deep?"

"About so deep, " said Ernest, placing his hand about five feet fromthe ground. 

"Then he would have been drowned if you had not been near?"

"Yes, if he could not swim. "

"He is too young to swim. But you are wet, " added the Indian, noticingfor the first time the condition of Ernest's clothes. 

"Yes, a little. "

"Come in, " said the Indian abruptly. 

He led the way into the log cabin. 

There was a stove in the centre of the room, and the air was so heatedas to be uncomfortable. As he led the child in, a stout Indian womancame forward with a cry and took him in her arms. Her husband rapidlyexplained what had happened. She instantly stripped the clothes fromthe child, and put on a dry change. 

"Now, " said the Indian, turning to Ernest, "take off your wetclothes. "

Though Ernest knew that it was wise to do so, he felt bashful aboutremoving them in presence of the woman. But his Indian host broughtfrom a nail, on which they hung, a pair of buckskin breeches of hisown, and offered them to Ernest for his temporary use. 

Ernest no longer hesitated, but made the substitution. 

As the Indian was four or five inches taller than himself, the legscovered his feet. He laughed as he saw how they looked, and theIndian's serious face relaxed a little from the same cause. 

"Now I will dry your clothes, " he said. 

He took a chair and, hanging the wet garments over the back, placed itvery near the stove. Ernest hardly liked to lose so much time, but heknew that it would not be safe to wear the trousers in their soakedcondition. 

"You speak English very well, " he said, turning to the Indian. 

"Yes, I have spent much time with white people, " was the answer. 

"Do you support yourself by hunting?" went on Ernest. 

"Yes, I am a hunter, but I go with rich white people from the cities, and with Englishmen, who want a guide. "

"And do they pay you well?" asked Ernest, not quite sure whether hewas not showing too much curiosity. 

"Yes, they pay me well. I have some money in the bank. "

Then Ernest remembered having seen the Indian one day at the bank. Hewas told at the time that his name was John Castro, and that he hadseveral hundred dollars on deposit. 

CHAPTER XV. 

A NEW ACQUAINTANCE. 

While Ernest's clothes were drying the Indian woman was bustling aboutthe stove. The boy did not suspect her object till she placed on thetable a plate of Indian cakes hot from the oven, and he was invited topartake. 

It was the first time he had ever been a guest in an Indian family, and he hesitated, but saw that his refusal to partake might hurt thefeelings of his new friends. He seated himself at the table and foundthe cakes really very good. 

When his clothes were dry he rose to go. 

"Won't you stay all night?" asked Castro. 

"Thank you. I cannot spare the time. I must push on. "

"Where are you going?" asked the Indian. 

"To Lee's Falls. "

"I will go with you a short distance. "

So they set out together. 

At length John Castro stopped. 

"That is your way, " he said. "I wish you a pleasant journey. I willnot forget what you have done for my little son. If ever you are introuble, send for John Castro. "

"I thank you. "

The Indian shook hands with him gravely, and turned back towards hiscabin. 

All this had taken time. Ernest had no watch with him, but heestimated that the adventure had cost him two hours. However, he hadsaved a boy's life. 

Again, he had made a friend. The friend was an Indian, but Ernest waswise enough to consider that no friend, however humble, is to bedespised. 

It was clear that he would reach his destination late, and he began towish that some carriage would overtake him in which he might ask for aride. 

But he walked two miles farther without encountering any team. Atlast, however, he heard the rumble of wheels, and turning round to seewhether there was room in the vehicle, he saw that it was a buggydriven by a tall, thin man with dark hair, swarthy face, and a long, aquiline nose. 

The driver eyed Ernest sharply and brought the buggy to a standstill. 

"Where are you going, boy?" he asked. 

"To Lee's Falls. "

"Where have you come from?"

"From Emmonsville. "

"It is a long walk. "

"Yes. Do you think you could give me a lift?"

"Perhaps so. Jump in. "

Ernest lost no time in availing himself of the invitation. He wasfootsore and weary, and it was with a sensation of relief that heseated himself beside the driver. 

The latter, who had been going at good speed, pulled his horse down toa walk and showed indications of becoming sociable. 

"Where were you going in Lee's Falls?" he asked. 

Ernest felt that it would be imprudent to mention that his destinationwas the bank, so he answered guardedly, "I am going to see the town. Imay stop over night. "

"At the hotel?"

"Yes. "

"It is not much of a place to see, " said the driver, watching hiscompanion curiously. 

"It is larger than Emmonsville, isn't it?"

"Yes. How long have you been in Emmonsville?"

"Not long. "

"Where do you live there?"

"At Mrs. Larkins'. "

"Do you go to school?"

"No. "

Ernest began to think that his companion was decidedly inquisitive, and something told him that he would do well to be on his guard. Whyshould he ask so many questions of a boy with whom he had noacquaintance?

Meanwhile the horse was travelling very slowly, and it seemed toErnest that he would go over the road quite as fast if he hadcontinued to walk. However, it was easier riding, and this was aconsideration. He began to think it was his turn to ask questions. 

"Are you going all the way to Lee's Falls?" he asked. 

"I may go nearly there. "

"I am very much obliged to you for giving me a lift. I was quitetired. "

The driver smiled. 

"Perhaps I have an object, " he said. 

Ernest looked an inquiry. 

"The pleasure of your company, " explained his companion, with a smile. 

"Thank you, " answered Ernest. 

"Now I come to look at you, I think I have seen you before, " continuedthe driver. 

"Where?"

"In Emmonsville--at the bank. "

Ernest became alarmed. There was a significance in his companion'stone which excited his alarm. But he did not dare show his feelings. He remained outwardly calm, though inwardly disturbed. 

"Very probably, " he said; "I have been there. "

His companion laughed. He was playing with the boy as a cat plays witha captive mouse. Ernest began to consider whether he could not thinkof some pretext for getting out of the buggy. 

Suddenly the buggy stopped. 

"I will get out here, " said Ernest, quickly. 

"Not quite yet. I have not got through questioning you. "

"I am in a hurry, " said Ernest. 

"You must wait till your hurry is over. Now tell me truly, are you notbound for the Lee's Falls bank?"

Ernest was startled. 

"You see I know more about you than you suppose. You are the bankmessenger. "

It seemed useless to deny it. The important question now was, was hissecret packet in danger?

"I have sometimes acted as bank messenger, " he said warily. 

"And you are acting in that capacity now. What are you taking to theLee's Falls bank?"

Ernest turned pale. His worst fears were confirmed. 

"Why do you ask?" he said. 

"Because I want to know. "

"What business can it be of yours?" demanded Ernest, boldly. 

"Don't be impudent, boy! Hand me the package of money. "

"I have no package of money. "

"Then you have bonds. "

Ernest remained silent. 

"I see that I have hit it. Now hand over the bonds, if you value yourlife. "

He spoke sternly, and looked so fierce that the boy messenger becamemore and more alarmed. He saw that he must give up the package, butdetermined to hold out in his resistance as long as possible. 

"The package is not mine, and I have no right to surrender it, " hesaid. 

"I'll take the responsibility, boy. You can't be blamed, for you can'thelp your self. "

As he spoke, he passed his hand over Ernest's vest, which he sawprojected more than was usual, and discovered the hiding-place of theimportant package. 

Instantly he had torn open the vest and drawn out the envelope. 

"I thought I should find it, " he said in a tone of triumph. 

Ernest felt very much dejected. It was a mortification to lose thefirst large sum with which he had been intrusted. 

"Will you tell me who you are?" he asked abruptly. 

"First, let me know who you think I am. "

As the driver spoke he eyed Ernest sharply. "Is your name Fox?" askedthe young messenger. 

His companion laughed. 

"I know Mr. Fox, " he answered. 

"You are either Fox or a member of his band. "

"You seem to be a sharp boy; I won't tell you whether you are right ornot. "

"I suppose I may go now. "

"Where do you want to go?"

Ernest hesitated. This was a question which he could not at onceanswer. To go on to Lee's Falls without the packet would do littlegood. Yet the bank officers there ought to know that the bondsintended for them had been stolen. Besides, he was too far fromEmmonsville to return that night. 

"I will go to Lee's Falls, " he said. 

"Not at present; I have other views for you. " As he spoke the robberturned his horse to the right. Wholly ignorant as to where he was tobe carried, Ernest sank back in his seat and resigned himself as wellas he could to the situation. 

CHAPTER XVI. 

THE OUTLAW'S HOME, Where he was to be carried or what was to be his fate Ernest could notconjecture, nor did he speculate much. It was enough for him to knowthat he was in the power of one of the notorious outlaws. 

There was considerable difference between his appearance and that ofthe man at his side. He was silent and depressed, while James Fox, forit was he, seemed in excellent spirits. He turned to the boy with theremark, "You don't say much. "

"No, for it would be no good. "

"Brace up, boy! There is no occasion to look as if you were going to afuneral. "

"Give me back the bonds and I will look lively enough. "

"Come now, don't be foolish. These bonds don't belong to you. "

"They were given into my care. "

"Very well! You took as good care of them as you could. "

"I shall be held responsible for them. "

"No, you won't. I shall send your employers a letter, letting themknow that you did the best you could to keep them out of my hands. Butperhaps they never heard of me, " and he laughed. 

"If your name is Fox, they have heard of you. "

"There is no need to beat about the bush. My name is Fox--James Fox. "

"What made you take up such a business, Mr. Fox?" asked Ernest, gravely. 

"Well, I like that! You, a kid, undertake to lecture me. "

"You were once a kid yourself. "

The outlaw's face grew grave suddenly, and his tone became thoughtful. 

"Yes, I was a kid once. At sixteen--is that your age?"

"Yes. "

"Well, at sixteen I was as innocent as you. I had a good mother then. If she had lived, perhaps I would have turned out different. Why, itseems a great joke, doesn't it? I attended Sunday-school till I wasfifteen. "

"You haven't forgotten it, then?"

"No, nor the lessons I learned there. But it is of no use to recallthose days. Are you afraid that you will come to harm?"

Ernest looked intently in the brigand's face. 

"No, " he said, after a pause. "I think you won't do me any more harm. But you can do me a great favor. "

"What is that--return you the bonds?"

"I would ask that if I thought you would do it, but I don't expect it. I should like to have you release me and let me go home. "

"I can't do that, for I want you to visit me. You may not think it, but I always like young people. It will be quite a pleasure to me tohave you for a visitor. "

"Thank you, but I am afraid that I shall become an unwilling guest. "

"Besides, it will be a pleasure to my little boy to meet you. He doesnot often meet other boys. "

"Have you a son?" asked Ernest in surprise. 

The outlaw's face softened. 

"Yes, " he answered. "He is a sweet little boy, as I can say, even ifhe is my son. His name is Frank. Would you like to see his picture?"

"Yes, " answered Ernest with interest. 

James Fox drew from an inner pocket a small card photograph of a youngboy with a very winning face. Ernest was attracted, for, unlike manyboys of his age, he liked younger children. He looked at the picturelong and earnestly. 

"It is a sweet face, " he said at last. "Isn't it?" asked the proudfather. 

"Is his mother living?"

"No. "

"Was there no difficulty in getting it taken?"

"I suppose you mean on account of my profession. Well, there might bearound here, but this was taken in Minneapolis--about a year ago. Itwas one of the few visits that Frank has made with me. "

"Are you going to bring him up to your business?"

"Take care, boy, " said the outlaw, frowning. "Don't be impertinent. "

"I don't mean to be. Do you think the question an improper one?"

"Well, perhaps I have no right to think so. Somehow the business, though it seems all right for me, I couldn't think of for my boy. No, I shall soon place him at school where no one will know that he isrelated to the celebrated outlaw. I want him brought up to lead anhonest life. "

"I am glad you do. I respect you for that. "

"My lad, you seem to be one of the right sort. As you will see my son, I want you to promise me that you won't say a word about the businessI am engaged in. "

"I will make that promise. Then the boy doesn't know?"

"No; he has no suspicion. He is too young to think much about that. Perhaps if he had associated with other boys much he would have foundout. "

While this conversation was going on they had entered a wood, and theroad became wilder and rougher. Indeed, it was hardly a road, butrather a lane, narrow and grass-grown. 

Ernest began to wonder in what sort of a home his companion lived. Hisevident affection for his son gave Ernest a different feeling towardshim. It was plain that he had a softer side to his nature, banditthough he was. 

Ernest had never read the story of Jekyll and Hyde, but he feltinstinctively that the man beside him had a double nature. On the roadhe was an outlaw, with corresponding traits, a rough and unscrupulousman, but at home, and in the presence of his son, as Ernest judged, hewas a warm-hearted and affectionate father. 

In truth, the young bank messenger looked forward with interest to ameeting with the boy who was so dear to the heart of a man whom theworld generally supposed to be a stranger to the softer emotions. 

At length they reached a rocky hillside. Here the outlaw pulled up hishorse and jumped from the buggy. Ernest looked at him in a questioningway. 

"You can get out, " he said. "We have arrived. "

Ernest alighted and looked about him. He naturally expected to see adwelling of some kind, but there was none in sight. If it was at adistance, why should they not have driven to it?

James Fox looked at him with a smile, enjoying his perplexity. 

From his pocket he drew a handkerchief. 

"Come here, my boy, " he said. 

Ernest did not quite understand what he proposed to do, but he feltbetter acquainted with the outlaw now, and he knew that there was nocause for apprehension. He accordingly approached without question. 

James Fox bandaged his eyes so that he could see nothing. Then he tookhim by the hand and led him forward. 

Ernest could not tell what was being done, but he found himselfwalking on a rocky path, hand in hand with his guide. How long hewalked he could not tell. It might have been two hundred feet. Thenhis guide stopped, and of course he stopped, too. 

Next the handkerchief was removed, and he found himself in what seemeda rocky cavern. At any rate it was a large room, of irregular shape, but the stone floor had been made smooth, and was covered by a softcarpet. It was furnished like a sitting-room in a private house. Therewere comfortable chairs, including a rocking-chair, and a capaciousarm-chair. On one side of the room was an inviting-looking couch. 

Of course there would have been perfect darkness but for artificiallight. On a table was a large student's lamp, and in a niche in thewall was another. Besides this, there was a lantern hanging from theroof of the chamber, but this was not lighted. 

Ernest looked about him with curiosity and surprise. It was somethingnew to him, and recalled a story he had once read, in which acave-dwelling was described. 

"Well, what do you think of it?" asked the outlaw, smiling. 

"It is wonderful, " said Ernest. 

"You did not know where I was bringing you?"

"No. It is a cave, is it not?"

"Well, it looks like it. "

"There are other rooms, are there not?"

"Yes, but this is my private apartment; my parlor, you may call it. This is my sleeping-room. "

He drew aside the hangings on the further side and revealed an innerchamber, of less size. 

On a bed Ernest's attention was drawn to the figure of a sleeping boyevidently the original of the picture which the outlaw had shown him. 

"That is your son?" asked Ernest. 

"Yes, that is Frank. "

The outlaw's stern countenance softened as he regarded the sleepingboy. 

Suddenly the boy stirred; he opened his eyes, and when he recognizedhis father a glad smile lighted up his innocent face. 

"Papa!" he said, and James Fox bent over and kissed him. 

CHAPTER XVII. 

IN THE ROBBER'S CAVE. 

After kissing his father the young boy looked inquisitively at Ernest. 

"Who is that boy, papa?" he asked. 

"I have brought him here to stay with you. Shall you like to have hiscompany?"

"Yes, papa. You know it is very lonely while you are away. What is hisname?"

The outlaw looked at Ernest significantly. He took the hint andanswered, "My name is Ernest Ray. "

"How old are you, Ernest?" went on the boy. 

"Sixteen. "

"I am only ten. "

"Are you ready to get up, Frank?" asked his father. 

"Yes, " answered the young boy briskly. "I got sleepy because I wasalone. Where did papa find you, Ernest?"

"Oh, I met him outside, and he took me to ride. "

James Fox looked approval of this answer. 

"I am glad you came with him. You seem like a nice boy, Ernest. "

"So do you, Frank. "

By this time Frank had slid from the bed and put his hand in Ernest's. 

"Come here, " he said, "and I will show you my books. "

Led by his small companion, Ernest went up to a bookcase which he hadnot before observed in the main room. About thirty books stood on theshelves. 

"Where did you get your books?" he asked. 

"Papa bought them for me in Minneapolis. Were you ever inMinneapolis?"

"No. "

"It is a nice place. Sometimes I think I would like to live thereinstead of here. "

"You are not getting tired of home, are you, Frank?" asked his father, half reproach fully. 

"No, papa, but it is lonely here sometimes. Am I to live here always?"

"No, Frank. Some time I will send you to school. But you won't see meevery day then. "

"Then I don't want to go. "

The outlaw stooped over and kissed the boy. 

"Now, Frank, I have something to do, so you may amuse yourself withErnest. "

"Can you play dominos?" asked Frank. 

"Yes; have you a set?"

"Yes. "

The boy opened a drawer in a bureau and drew out a box of dominos. Hepoured them out on the table and they began to play the ordinary game. When they tired of that, Ernest taught him a new one. 

After they grew tired of playing, Ernest read aloud to the boy fromone of his favorite books. 

They were sitting together in the arm-chair, when James Fox, who hadleft the room, returned. He smiled approvingly at the picture. He waspleased to think that he had found a companion whom his boy liked. 

"What have you been doing, Frank?" he asked. 

"He has been reading to me, papa. He reads nicely, and I liked it verymuch. "

"I am sorry to interrupt you, but are not you young people hungry?"

"I think I could eat something, " answered Ernest. 

"Frank, you may bring him into the dining-room. "

The drapery was lifted, and they passed into a room as large as theone they were in. On a table in the centre a substantial meal, consisting principally of roast beef, was set forth. An old coloredwoman--intensely black and slightly deformed--hovered near, evidentlythe cook. 

"Juba, " said the outlaw, "this is a new boarder. His name is Ernest, "

"Glad to see you, Massa Ernest, " rejoined the old woman, nodding herturban. "Sit down here next to Massa Frank. "

It seemed very strange to Ernest to reflect that he was the guest ofone of the famous outlaws of whom he had heard so much. He was halfinclined to doubt whether it was real. If he had been alone he wouldhave pinched himself to see whether he was awake or dreaming. Here hewas, in the bowels of the earth, on intimate terms with an outlaw andhis family. How long was he to stay in the cavern? That was aquestion impossible to answer. Meanwhile he was hungry, and thedinner was well cooked. 

In spite of his being a prisoner and the loss of the packet, Ernestwas almost ashamed of himself for the appetite which he manifested. But it seemed to give pleasure to Juba, who regarded it as acompliment to her cookery. 

"Where is Uncle John, papa?" asked Frank, suddenly. 

Ernest remembered that one of the Fox brothers was named John, and heawaited the answer with interest. 

James Fox seemed busily thinking, and Frank had to repeat thequestion. 

"Your Uncle John?" repeated the outlaw. "He went away on business. "

"What kind of business, papa?"

It was a natural question, but it startled James Fox. He saw that ashis son became older it might not be easy to evade embarrassingquestions. 

"You seem curious, Frank, " he answered after a pause. "You wouldn'tunderstand if I were to tell you. "

"Will you teach me your business some day, papa?"

It was on the tip of the outlaw's tongue to say, "Heaven forbid!" buthe only answered, "Wait till you are older, Frank. Then we will talkabout it. "

At length they rose from the table. 

They went back to the main room, and Ernest read a little more to theyoung boy. But Frank's eyes grew heavy, and he finally dropped off tosleep. 

"Shall I lay him on the bed, Mr. Fox?" asked Ernest. 

"No, I will do so. "

He took the boy tenderly in his arms. 

"If I had known he would fall asleep I would have undressed him, " hesaid. 

After placing the boy on the bed he resumed his seat in the arm-chairand began to smoke. Finally, he looked over at Ernest. 

"Do you like my little boy?" he asked abruptly. 

"He is a dear little fellow, " answered Ernest. 

"So he is, " said the father in a soft voice. "You have no prejudiceagainst him because he is my son?"

"No, " answered Ernest. "Whatever you are, he is not responsible. "

"True, but all might not take that view of it. I don't know why Ishould speak so confidentially to you, lad, but if I ever regret myline of life it is when I look at him. I wouldn't like to have hisfuture marred by his association with me. I wouldn't like people toturn from him because he was an outlaw's son. "

"I hope you will forgive my boldness, " said Ernest, "but don't youthink you will ever change your mode of life?"

"It is too late; I am too well known. Yet who knows?" he said, after apause. "Nothing is impossible. "

At nine o'clock Juba entered the room. 

"Has John returned?" asked the outlaw. 

"No, massa. "

A shade of anxiety overspread the outlaw's face. 

"He should have been here before this, " he said. Then, looking atErnest, he said, "I am going out a while. Lie down on the bed withFrank, and if he wakes up undress him. "

"Yes, sir. "

An hour later Frank and Ernest were sleeping peacefully side by side. 

When Ernest awoke the next morning Frank was still asleep on the bedbeside him. In the large room adjoining, James Fox lay on the lounge. He had given his bed to Ernest. He had not himself undressed, but hadthrown himself on the couch in his ordinary clothes. 

Breakfast was ready by the time they were, and the three sat downtogether. 

"Where is Uncle John, papa?" asked Frank. 

"He has not returned, Frank, " said James Fox, soberly. 

"What made him stay away all night?"

"Probably it was business, " answered the outlaw, but Ernest noticedthat he looked disturbed. 

In truth he had been out till two o'clock seeking for his brother, whohe feared had got into trouble. We know that he was in the prison atCrampton, whither he had been conveyed by Luke Robbins and EzekielMason. Of course it was in the mind of James Fox that his brothermight have been arrested, since this was a risk which he dailyincurred. 

Just as breakfast was over there was a new arrival. It was a tall, stalwart fellow, whom James Fox addressed as Hugh. 

"Do you bring any news, Hugh?" asked the outlaw eagerly. 

"Yes, " answered Hugh Humphries. 

"Is it about John?"

Hugh glanced significantly at the two boys. Ernest he saw for thefirst time. 

James Fox understood and followed Hugh out of the room. 

"Well, " he said inquiringly, when they were out of hearing. 

"Mr. John is in trouble, " answered Hugh, briefly. 

"Go on, " said James Fox. "Do you know where he is?"

"In Crampton jail. "

"Go on. Give me the particulars. "

"He was carried there by two persons. "

"Who were they?"

"One I think was a farmer who lives in Claremont. The other seemed tobe a Quaker. "

"I don't remember any Quaker in this neighborhood. He must be astranger hereabouts. "

"I think I have seen him before. "

"Where?"

"At the Emmonsville bank. I was passing there one day in disguise, andchancing to look in, I saw this man sitting on a bench near the payingteller's desk. "

"Ah!" said James Fox, thoughtfully. "He may be a detective. "

"That is what I thought. "

"That is bad news, but the jail at Crampton is not very strong. I havebeen confined there myself and made my escape. However, John will needassistance from the outside. "

"I see you have a new boy, " said Hugh, curiously. "When did you pickhim up?"

"Yesterday, a few miles from here. He is a bank messenger. "

"From what bank?"

"The Emmonsville bank. "

"Then he may know something of this Quaker detective. "

"Well suggested. I will question him. "

CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE OUTLAW AND HIS BAND. 

When James Fox returned to the apartment where the boys were stillseated at the table he said, "Ernest, I should like to speak to you aminute. "

Ernest followed him out of the room. 

"Is there any person connected with the bank at Emmonsville who wearsthe dress of a Quaker?" began the outlaw. 

Ernest hesitated a moment. 

"Speak out, boy!" said Fox. "I must and will know. "

"Yes, sir. "

"Is he a detective?"

"He may act as such. "

"Is he under pay at the bank?"

"I think he is. "

"Do you know where he is now?"

"No. "

"Was he at the bank when you left it yesterday afternoon?"

"No, sir. "

"Do you know where he was?"

"I saw him ride away with a farmer. "

John Fox and Hugh exchanged glances. Their suspicions were confirmed. 

"Is he in any trouble?" asked Ernest, becoming a questioner in histurn. 

"No. For aught I know he may be at the bank. "

Ernest looked relieved, and for two reasons. He was glad that Luke wasnot in trouble. Then he knew that when his disappearance wasdiscovered, Luke would leave no stone unturned to rescue him. It was acomfort to think that he had a powerful friend outside. 

"That will do, " said the outlaw. "You may return to Frank. "

"How long are you going to keep me here?" asked Ernest, anxiously. 

"Are you already tired of remaining with us?"

There was something in the outlaw's tone that savored of kindness. Ernest felt that in some way he had ingratiated himself with him. 

"I would like my freedom. I am not used to confinement, " he said. 

"Very natural. I cannot let you go just yet, but I will not allow youto be harmed. Do not be alarmed. "

"I am not, " answered Ernest. 

"Why not? You know my reputation. "

"Yes, but thus far you have been kind to me. "

"True. I like you, for you are kind to my boy, and I see that heenjoys your company. Listen! I shall be away all day, probably. Dowhat you can to amuse Frank. "

"I will. I should be very lonely without him. "

"That is a good boy, Hugh, " said John Fox, as Ernest left them. "Ishould like to keep him with us. "

"Why don't you, then?"

"I am afraid he would be unhappy. "

"I never knew you to take such a liking to a boy before. "

"I never have. Indeed, I have seldom met any. All my dealings havebeen with men. But, Hugh, we must lose no time. We must try to rescueJohn, if possible. It is no more than he would do for me, if our caseswere reversed. "

"Very well, captain. I am ready to follow wherever you lead. "

"I know that, Hugh. You have always been faithful to my brother andmyself. "

"I always will be, captain, " said Hugh, with a look of loyaldevotion. 

"I know it. I am sure that we have no better friend than HughHumphries. "

"You only do me justice, captain. Will you forgive me if I saysomething?"

"Say what you please, Hugh. "

"What you have said of me is just, but I don't think you can say it ofall in the band. "

"Is there any one whom you suspect? If so, it is your duty to tellme. "

"I don't take much stock in Peter Longman. "

"I am afraid you are suspicious, Hugh. "

"Not without cause. I have noticed some things about him that I don'tlike. I think he is quite capable of turning against you. "

"I have never remarked anything of the sort, but I know you would notspeak without cause. Tell me what you want me to do. "

"Only to be on your guard. Don't trust Peter as you trust me. "

"I never have. And now have you any suggestions to make?"

"You might visit this farmer who helped the Quaker arrest yourbrother. "

"It may be a good plan. Who is the farmer?"

"His name is Ezekiel Mason. "

"I know where he lives. He is the last man I should suppose would becapable of such mischief. "

"He could have done nothing without the Quaker's help. "

"Very well, we will take the farm on the way. Still I don't know thatwe shall learn anything beyond what we already know. "

Before leaving the cave they disguised themselves as farm workmen. Inthis dress they approached the farm-house, but there was somethingthat diverted them from their original purpose and led them to keeptheir distance. 

Sitting on the portico was a tall man dressed as a Quaker. 

"That's the man!" Said Hugh, quickly. "That's the man who drove up tothe jail last evening with your brother. "

James Fox looked at him closely. 

"It is best to let sleeping dogs lie, " he said. "We will push on tothe jail. "

CHAPTER XIX. 

A DAY IN THE CAVE. 

Meanwhile Ernest was left in the cave with Frank. He had been broughtin blindfolded, and was therefore ignorant as to the entrance or exit. He thought he might, without arousing the boy's suspicion, seekinformation from him on these points. 

"Are there many rooms here, Frank?" he asked. 

"Oh, a good many, " answered the boy. 

"Have you been in many?"

"I have been around with papa. "

"I should like to go round, " said Ernest. "Suppose we take a littlewalk. "

"I'll go with you. I should be afraid to go alone. "

"Does Juba ever go out?"

"Yes; she sometimes goes out to get things. "

"Do you know where she goes?"

"No. "

"Then you never went with her. "

"I went once, but papa does not like to have me go out. "

"Let us go about a little. "

The boy was quite ready to accept any suggestion from Ernest. So hetook his hand and they went from the main room farther into thecavern. 

Ernest found that only the portion near the entrance had beenfurnished. Beyond, there was a large amount of empty space. Here andthere a small light revealed trunks and boxes, arranged without regardto regularity. These, Ernest conjectured, contained stolen articleswhich had accumulated during the years in which the dreaded outlawshad been a power and a menace in the neighborhood. 

It occurred to him that he would like to open some of these boxes, butthe companionship of the boy prevented. 

He ventured to ask, however, "What is in those boxes, Frank?"

"I don't know. Something of papa's and Uncle John's. "

As they kept on they reached parts of the cavern which were quiteempty. The Fox brothers were in the position of householders whooccupied a house too large for their needs. 

By and by the lamps ceased, and the portion farther on looked dark andgloomy. 

"I am afraid to go any farther, Ernest, " said the boy. 

"Why, Frank? What are you afraid of?"

"There may be wild animals there. "

"But how could they live there?"

"I don't know, but papa told me there were some. "

Ernest understood why the boy had been told this. It was to preventhis going too far. But it made Ernest all the more eager to continuehis explorations. 

"Even if there were any wild animals I would protect you, Frank. Iwould not let them hurt you. "

"But we may not find our way back. It is so dark, " said the child witha shudder. 

"I won't go farther. But, see, it seems to be lighter. "

It was at a point fifty feet farther on. 

Through a rift in the roof a gleam of light entered the cavern. 

Ernest was anxious to trace this, for, as he judged, it came from someoutlet, through which he might possibly obtain deliverance. 

"Stay where you are, " he said. "I will just go forward, and see what Ican. "

"Don't stay long, " entreated Frank, nervously. 

"No, I won't. "

Ernest was just as well pleased to go forward alone, for if there wasreally, as he supposed, an outlet, it was as well that Frank shouldnot have his attention drawn to it lest he should speak of it to hisfather, and so reveal the fact of their explorations. This mightexcite the suspicion of James Fox and put a stop to their furtherwalks. 

Continuing on alone, Ernest then saw, perhaps fifteen feet above him, an opening some three feet in diameter, through which he could obtaina glimpse of the clear sky far above. 

It made his heart beat with exultation and longing. There was freedom, if he could only manage somehow to lift himself up to the outlet andmake his way through it. 

"What is it, Ernest?" asked Frank. "Come back. I am afraid. "

"Oh, it is nothing, " answered Ernest, with studied indifference. "Itisn't anything you would care to see. "

The little boy accepted this assurance, for he did not feel theinterest that excited Ernest. 

"Let us go back, " he said, as he resumed his clasp of Ernest's hand. 

"Yes, we will go back. Have you ever been as far as this before?"

"No. "

"Then we had better not say anything about it. Your papa might notlike it. "

"All right, Ernest. Will you read to me when you go back?"

"Yes, Frank. "

Ernest was glad to comply with the little boy's request, as he thoughthe might in this way put the thoughts of their exploration out of hismind. 

They were fortunate enough to get back without exciting the attentionof Juba, who was busy in the kitchen. 

Her work, however, was soon over, and she brought her sewing into theroom where the two boys were seated. The garment on which she wasengaged seemed to be a dress of rough cloth. 

"Well, Massa Frank, what am you doing?"

"Ernest is reading to me. Why don't you ever read to me, Juba?"

"O lor', chile, you know I can't read. "

"But why can't you read? You're old enough. "

"Yes, honey, I'm old enough, but I never had no chance to learn. "

"Why didn't you?" persisted Frank. "Didn't you go to school when youwas little?"

"No, chile, never went to school. They didn't have no schools where Iwas raised. "

"Where was that?"

"In ole Virginny. "

"Were you a slave, Juba?" asked Ernest, getting interested. 

"Yes, massa, I was a slave. "

"And how did you get here?"

"It was all along of the war. Ole massa, he went to the war and gotkilled. Then young massa went, and he got killed, too. Then one daythere came an officer--one of Abe Linkum's officers--and he told us wewere free and might go where we pleased. That was a drefful time. "

"Why was it dreadful? Weren't you glad to be free?" asked Ernest. 

"No, honey, we didn't know where to go, nor what to do. We'd allus hadsome one to look after us and take care of us, but now there wasn'tanybody. "

"Were you married, Juba?"

"Yes, but I don't know whether my ole man is livin' or not. He wassold down in Georgie, to a cousin of ole massa. "

"Then he may be living yet?"

"Yes, honey. "

"How old are you, Juba?" asked Frank. 

"I don't know, chile. I's powerful old. Specs I's a hundred. "

Ernest smiled. 

"No, Juba, " he said, "you are not nearly a hundred. You may be sixty. "

"All right, massa, you know best. "

"Juba, did you ever hear about _Uncle Tom?_"

"Yes, chile, I knew Uncle Tom, " was the unexpected reply. "He wasraised on Mr. Jackson's place, next to ours. "

Ernest asked some questions about this Uncle Tom, but learned, as heexpected, that it was quite a different person from the negroimmortalized by Mrs. Stowe. 

In looking over Frank's books Ernest found an old copy of "Uncle Tom'sCabin, " and taking it down, he read some portions, particularly thoserelating to Topsy. 

Both Frank and Juba were very much entertained. 

"Did you know Topsy, Juba?" asked Frank. 

"No, chile, never knowed Topsy. She must have been a no account youngnigga. If she'd lived on our plantation she'd have got flogged for herimpudence. "

"How did you come here, Juba?" asked Frank. 

"One of them officers took me to Chicago. I lived out with a lady, butwhen she died, after a good many years, I went to a 'telligenceoffice, and there I met your papa. He brought me out here. I didn't atfirst like livin' down under the ground, but I don't mind it now. Massa Fox treats me well, and I ain't no wish to change. "

This was the substance of what Juba had to communicate. The rest ofthe day passed quietly. At nightfall James Fox came home looking verysober. But he came alone. His brother was not with him. 

CHAPTER XX. 

ERNEST EXPLORES THE CAVE. 

James Fox had very little to say during the evening. He was evidentlypreoccupied and anxious. He paid scant attention to the boys, but leftthem to their own devices. 

Frank knew so little of his father's business, or occupation, that hecould conceive of no cause for worriment. When his advances met withlittle response he asked, "Have you got a headache, papa?"

"No--yes, child. My head troubles me some. Be as quiet as you can. "

"Will it disturb you if I play checkers with Ernest, papa?"

"No, I should like to have you amuse your self, " answered the outlaw. 

He directed the boys to go to bed early. As before, they slepttogether, and he threw him self on the lounge without taking off hisclothes. 

Ernest slept well. When he woke up at eight o'clock he saw that Frankwas still sleeping, but his host was already up. 

Juba came into the room. 

"Get up, children, " she said. "Breakfast is ready. "

"Where is papa?" asked Frank. 

"He took breakfast an hour ago, honey. "

"What made him get up so early?"

"'Portant business called him away, he said. "

"Where's Uncle John?"

"He hasn't been home. "

"Has he got 'portant business, too?"

"'Specs he has, honey. "

"It doesn't seem nice to take breakfast without papa, " said thelittle boy. 

"You may consider me your papa, Frank, " observed Ernest. 

"But you're not big enough to be a papa. "

"At any rate, I am not old enough. "

When breakfast was over there was the long day before them to befilled up in some way. 

"Don't you ever wish to go out of the cave, Frank?" asked Ernest. 

"Where?" asked the little boy. 

"Into the bright sunshine, out on the green grass, and under thetrees. "

"Yes; I think I should like it, " answered Frank, thoughtfully. "Butpapa does not want me to go. I don't know why. Do many little boyslive in caves like me?"

"No; I don't think so. "

"Can they walk about in the sunshine, and play?"

"I always did. "

"Do you like it better than living here?"

"Yes. "

"Then what made you come here?"

This was an embarrassing question, and Ernest felt that he must becareful in answering. "Your papa wanted me to make you a visit, " hereplied after a pause. 

"And I am glad you came. It isn't so lonely for me. Before, I had onlyJuba. "

"Wouldn't she play with you?" asked Ernest with a smile. 

Frank laughed merrily. 

"Juba is too old to play. I hope you will stay with me a good while. "

Ernest could not echo this wish, so he answered evasively, "I can't tell yet how long I shall stay. But the time will come whenyou will leave the cave and live like other little boys in a house. "

"Did papa tell you that?"

"He told me that he should send you to school before long. "

"What is a school like?" asked the little boy anxiously. 

Few boys of ten would have been obliged to put this question, butFrank had been secluded from the world ever since he was a baby. 

"There will be a good many boys, some older, some younger, thanyourself. You will study lessons together, and play together. "

"I think that will be nice. "

"Yes; I am sure you will enjoy it. "

"Did you ever go to school?"

"Oh, yes; I went to school for some years. I wish I could go again. "

"Perhaps you will go to school with me. "

"I can't tell, " answered Ernest, vaguely. "Perhaps Juba will go toschool with you. "

Frank laughed. 

"She would look funny going to school, " he said. 

"What's dat you sayin' 'bout Juba, Massa Ernest?" asked the old woman, entering the room. 

"I told Frank you might go to school with him. "

"Maybe I'd go and take care of him, honey. "

"But you wouldn't want to study. "

"I wouldn't study nohow. I's a poor, ignorant nigger. Never shall knownuffin', I expect. "

"Don't you think you could learn to read, Juba?"

"No, I couldn't. It takes white folks to read. "

"No, Juba; when I went to school there was a colored boy in my class, and he was one of the smartest scholars we had. "

"And was he a nigger?" asked Juba, interested. 

"We didn't call him that, but he was a colored boy. If he could learnto read, I am sure you could. "

"It's no use, chile. I'm too old now. "

Much as he liked Frank, it was irksome to Ernest to remain all day inthe cave. It was imprisonment under pleasant circumstances, but stillimprisonment. 

They got through the forenoon somehow, taking dinner at twelveo'clock. 

About two o'clock Frank complained of being sleepy. 

"You won't mind if I go to sleep for an hour, Ernest?" he said. 

"Oh, no, " answered Ernest. "I can read, you know. "

Since his exploration of the day before, Ernest had been longing tovisit once more the same portion of the cave. But he wanted to goalone. He had a hope that through the aperture in the roof he mighteffect his escape. It would not do to have Frank with him, as thiswould interfere with his plan. Now the longed-for opportunity wasalmost at hand. 

He took a volume from the book-shelf, and sitting down beside the bedbegan to read. But his mind was not on the book, though at anothertime he would have enjoyed it. He watched Frank, and in less thanfifteen minutes had the satisfaction of seeing that he was fastasleep. 

Then he left the room, Juba being occupied in the kitchen. He securedhis hat, as he would need it in case he effected his escape. 

As he passed through that apartment in the cave where there weretrunks and boxes, it occurred to him to open one of them. He wasrather surprised that it should be unlocked, but so it was. 

It was filled with a miscellaneous assortment of articles, but on top, to his surprise and joy, he recognized the envelope containing thebonds that had been taken from him. 

If he left the cave he would want these, and therefore he had nohesitation in taking them. He put them in the inside pocket of hisvest, and kept on his way. 

In a short time he reached the spot lighted by the aperture in theroof. 

The opening was quite large enough for him to get through, but thedifficulty was that it was fully fifteen feet above the floor of thecave. Ernest was something of a gymnast, but it was out of his powerto reach the opening through which alone he could obtain deliverance. 

He looked about him to see if there were any articles which he couldpile upon one an other so as to attain the aperture. But the cave wasquite empty of articles of any description, nor could he find any thathe could move in the portions which he had already traversed. 

It was certainly very aggravating to be so near freedom, and yetunable to obtain it. There just above him he could see the blue skyand the cheerful sunshine, while he was a prisoner in a dark cavern. 

Was there no way of reaching the opening? he asked himself. 

If he had to give up hope, he would feel obliged to return theenvelope to the box from which he had taken it. Were its lossdiscovered, he would of course be searched, and kept in stricterseclusion than before. 

In the room used by the outlaw as a sitting-room--the apartment he hadjust left--he might be able to find what he needed. But he could notremove anything without being detected, and should he return there hewould possibly find Frank awake, which would spoil all. 

It looked as if he would have to give up the chance that had come tohim. In thoughtful mood he walked slowly back. All at once an ideastruck him. In the room where the trunks and boxes were stored he hadseen a long, stout rope. Could he do anything with it?

Looking up at the aperture, he noticed a jagged projection on oneside. 

"If I could attach the rope to that, " he reflected, "I could drawmyself up hand over hand till I reached the top, and then it would gohard if I didn't get out. "

With new hope in his heart, he retraced his steps rapidly till hereached the store-room. 

He knew just where to look for the rope. He examined it carefully, andfound it very stout and strong. 

He took it back with him. Then making a loop at one end, he stoodunder the opening and threw it up as he would a lasso. He had to try adozen times before he contrived to circle the projection with theloop. 

Then pulling it taut, he began to climb hand over hand, as he had manya time done in sport. Now his deliverance depended upon it. 

Slowly, foot by foot, he approached the opening, not knowing whether, even if he reached it, he would be able to draw himself through thehole. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

OUT OF THE FRYING-PAN INTO THE FIRE. 

Arrived at the opening, Ernest found that there was a trap-door whichwas ordinarily closed, but through some misadventure had been left open. It was, however, a serious problem to draw himself up so as to profit bywhat he had already done. 

Twice he failed, and nearly lost his grip on the rope. Then he caughthold of the projection from which the rope depended, and by a supremeeffort he succeeded, helping himself by means of the trap-door, inemerging from his subterranean prison. 

Stretching himself, he took a deep breath, and realized joyfully notonly that he was free, but that he had recovered the valuable bonds ofwhich he had been placed in charge. 

He began to look around him, and tried to conjecture in what directionhe must go to reach Lee's Falls. He was quite at a loss, as he hadbeen carried into the cave blindfolded. But help seemed to be at hand. He saw at a little distance, rapidly approaching him, a man of middleheight, whom he concluded to be a resident of some place in thevicinity. 

"Can you tell me in what direction I must go to reach Lee's Falls?" heasked. 

The stranger paused and examined him sharply. 

"So you want to go to Lee's Falls?" he said. 

"Yes, sir. "

"Where do you come from?"

"From Emmonsville. "

"Direct?"

"No. "

"I saw you just now coming out of some opening in the earth. "

This alarmed Ernest. He felt that he might be called upon to explainwhere he had been. 

"Who is this man?" he asked himself. "Is he one who is likely to be inthe confidence of the outlaws? If so, I have only got out of onescrape to fall into another. "

He studied the face of the man with whom he was speaking, and to hisdismay noted a resemblance to James Fox, who had captured him. Hebegan to suspect that this was his brother. 

Whether it was or not, Ernest deemed it politic to say as little aspossible of his experiences, and of what he knew about the cave andits occupants. 

"Yes, " he answered quietly; "there seems to be a cave underneath. Ifound the trap door open, and went down, but I regretted it, for Ifound it difficult to get out again. "

His new acquaintance eyed him scrutinizingly, as if to see whether heknew more than he was willing to reveal. 

"So there is a cave underneath?" he said inquiringly. 

"Yes. "

"Have you any idea what it is used for?"

"I don't think it is used at all. The room below seems empty. "

The man regarded him fixedly. 

"When did you leave Emmonsville?" he asked abruptly. 

"Yesterday, " answered Ernest in some confusion. 

"How does it happen that you have got no farther on your way to Lee'sFalls?"

"I stopped at the cabin of an Indian, " answered Ernest, making theonly explanation he could think of. 

The man smiled. 

"Young man, " he said, "didn't you pass last night in this cave?"

Ernest saw that there was no further chance for subterfuge. 

"Yes, " he answered. 

"I thought so. "

"You were captured?" the other went on. 

"Yes. "

"Have you any suspicion by whom this cave is occupied?"

"I presume by the Fox brothers. "

"Correct. I am one of them. "

"I began to think so. "

"How were you able to escape?"

"I was left with the little boy. He fell asleep, and then I began toexplore. "

"Where is my brother?"

"He went out quite early, I presume in search of you. You are JohnFox, are you not?"

"Exactly. I suppose my brother heard that I was in trouble. "

"Yes. "

"By the way, the Quaker detective through whom I got into difficultyyou doubtless know?"

"I do. "

"I was put into jail at Crampton, but I managed to effect my escape. Are you connected in any way with the Emmonsville bank?"

"Yes. "

"In what way?"

"As bank messenger. "

"Did my brother take anything from you?"

"Yes. "

"Money?"

"No; bonds. "

"You are a sensible boy. You answer my questions freely. You are asmart boy, too. It isn't every lad of your age who would have managedto effect an escape from the cave. Do you remember the entrance?"

"No; I was carried into it blindfolded. "

"I thought my brother would be prudent. So you couldn't find itagain?"

"No; I don't think so. "

"Still, I cannot run any risk. You will have to come with me. "

"Where do you want to carry me?" asked Ernest, much disturbed. 

"I will carry you back to the cave. "

"Let me go free. I will promise not to reveal anything that I havediscovered. "

The outlaw shook his head. 

"I am sorry, boy, but that is a request I cannot grant. You were madeprisoner by my brother, and I owe it to him to prevent your escape. "

It was intolerable to Ernest to think of having his captivity renewed. He determined that he would at least make an effort for free dom. 

Accordingly he did not hesitate, but started to run, hoping that inthis way he might save himself. He had always the reputation among hisboy companions as a sprinter, and resolved to see whether this was alost art with him. 

"So that's your game, is it?" exclaimed the outlaw. "It will go hardwith me if I don't catch you. Stop, or it will be the worse for you!"

But Ernest had no intention of giving up so soon. He only exertedhimself the more. 

The contest was not so unequal as might have been supposed. Ernest wastall of his age, and the outlaw was rather below the average height. So there was in reality only about an inch difference in their height. 

On the other hand John Fox had, as might be supposed, more strengthand endurance. He was not over weight, and therefore not scant ofbreath. Ernest got the start, and this was an advantage. One ran aboutas fast as the other, so it settled down into a contest of endurance. Whoever could hold out the longest would win. 

The outlaw, however, was irritated at the unexpected difficulty of hisundertaking. He had thought that Ernest would surrender at discretion. 

"I wish I had my revolver, " he muttered. 

Had the outlaw been aware that Ernest had in his possession the packetof bonds which had impelled his brother to make him a captive, hiszeal would have been increased. This, however, he did not suspect. Heknew, of course, that the bonds would be taken from him, and he couldconceive of no chance of the boy's recovering them. 

They flew over the ground, maintaining the same relative distance. Butthere was an unexpected contingency that worked to the disadvantage ofErnest. 

Directly in his path was a projecting root, which in his haste escapedhis notice. He tripped over it, and as a natural consequence hemeasured his length on the ground. 

The outlaw's face lighted up with exultation. Now the issue was nolonger doubtful. At last he had the boy in his power. 

Before Ernest could recover himself and rise to his feet, John Fox wasupon him. 

He flung himself on the prostrate boy, and clutched him in a firmgrasp. 

"Now I have you, " he said. "You were a fool to run. You might haveknown that you could not escape. "

"I came near it, though, " gasped Ernest, quite out of breath. "Let meup. "

"Will you promise to go with me without giving me any more trouble?"

"I will make no promises, " said Ernest, stoutly. 

"Then it will be the worse for you, " said the outlaw vindictively. 

What he proposed to do must remain unknown, for as he spoke a handwas thrust into his neckcloth, and he was jerked violently to hisfeet. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

A FRIEND IN NEED. 

Bewildered and angry, John Fox looked to see who was his assailant. Hefound himself confronted by a tall, muscular Indian, whom Ernest alsorecognized as the man whose child he had saved from a watery grave. 

"What do you mean by this outrage?" demanded the outlaw angrily. 

"Why are you hurting _him?_" said the Indian, pointing to Ernest. 

"Because I choose to. What have you got to say about it?"

"Me stop you, " said the Indian calmly. 

"I have a great mind to shoot you. "

This was an empty threat, for his weapon had been taken by the Quakerdetective. 

The only answer made by the Indian was to produce a revolver, which hepointed at the breast of the outlaw. 

"Two play at that game, " he answered. 

John Fox shrank back, for it takes a man of nerve to face a revolver. He began to remonstrate. 

"What interest have you in that boy?" he asked. 

"He save my little boy from drowning, " answered the Indian. "Will yougo, or shall me shoot?"

There was but one answer to make to this question. John Fox turnedabout, and walked quietly away without a word. 

Ernest grasped the Indian's hand gratefully. 

"I can't thank you enough, " he said. "You have perhaps saved my life. "

"You saved my little boy. "

"Do you know that man?"

"No. "

"It was John Fox, one of the Fox brothers, the famous outlaws. "

"Humph! I have heard of him. How did he catch you?"

Ernest told the story. He also told of the commission he had from theEmmonsville bank. 

"I am going to ask you a favor, " he asked. 

"What is it?"

"I want you to go with me to the bank at Lee's Falls. I have a packageof bonds to carry there, and I don't think it safe to go alone. I willsee that you are paid for your time and trouble. "

"I will go. "

Under the guidance of his Indian friend, Ernest reached Lee's Falls. The bank was closed, but the cashier was still in the bank building, having been detained after hours. Seeing him through the window, Ernest knocked and obtained admission. 

"The bank is closed, young man, " said the bank officer. 

"I know it, but I have a package of bonds from the bank inEmmonsville. I hope you will take them from me, for I don't want theresponsibility of them any longer. "

"Oh, you are the young messenger. We had advice that you would be hereyesterday. "

"So I should have been, but for my capture by one of the Foxbrothers. "

"And how did you escape?" asked the wondering cashier. 

"Please take the bonds, and I will tell you. I spent two nights in theoutlaws' cave. This afternoon I managed to get away. "

"But were not the bonds taken from you?"

"Yes, but I recovered them. "

Ernest, without waiting for further questions, told the story asbriefly as possible. 

"So, after all, " he concluded, "I should have been taken again but formy friend here, " laying his hand upon the Indian's shoulder. 

"I told him you would pay him for his trouble in accompanying me. "

"So I will, " said the cashier, and he took a five-dollar bill andtendered it to the Indian. 

The latter objected to taking it, alleging that Ernest had saved hisboy's life, but the cashier overruled his objections, and he acceptedit. 

They were going out of the bank when the familiar figure of LukeRobbins came up the street. His face was overspread by an expressionof anxiety, and he seemed troubled. He had searched everywhere forErnest, and thus far had failed to find him. 

When he saw the boy emerging from the bank his face changed at once. 

"So you are safe, Ernest? I thought I had lost you, " he exclaimed. "Did you see anything of the outlaws?"

"I should say that I did. I was captured by James Fox, and confinedtwo nights in the underground haunt of the robbers. When I escapedthis afternoon I fell into the clutches of the other brother. "

"What! John Fox?"

"Yes. "

"This cannot be, Ernest. I lodged him myself in Crampton jail. "

"All I can tell you is that he is at liberty now. He must haveescaped. "

"Then I am afraid I shan't receive the reward offered for hiscapture. "

"You ought to get it. You delivered him over to the authorities. Ifthey could not keep him, that was their lookout. "

"You ought to be right, lad. I hope you are. Who is this man?"

"My Indian friend, who proved to be a friend in need. It was he whosaved me from John Fox. "

"I am proud to know you, " said Luke, grasping the hand of the redwarrior. "If you have helped Ernest, you are my friend. "

"He save my little boy; I will always be his friend. "

"You have saved _my_ boy, my Indian friend, and you will always be_my_ friend, " returned Luke. 

"Well, Luke, what shall we do? I have done my errand and delivered thebonds. I suppose I ought to go back to Emmonsville. "

"We will go back. I have found you, and have no more to do here. "

"Shall we walk?"

"No, it is too far. There is a stable a little way from here; I willhire a conveyance, and our Indian friend will perhaps be willing todrive us over. "

The Indian expressed his willingness, and the three were soon on theirway through the woods. They met with no adventure, nor did they fearany, for it would have required a brave man to attack two suchstalwart persons as the Indian and the Quaker detective. 

Leaving them for the present, we will go back to the cave from whichErnest had made so unceremonious a departure. 

Frank slept for two hours, but at length opened his eyes, expecting tosee Ernest sitting at his bedside. 

He looked in vain. There was no one in the room. This did not surprisehim much, however. He thought Ernest might have gone into the nextapartment. 

"Ernest!" he cried, but his call received no response. 

The little boy got out of bed and looked about, but his search wasvain. 

So he went into the kitchen, where he found Juba engaged in somedomestic work. 

"Juba, " he said, "where is Ernest. "

"I don't know, chile. Isn't he in the big room?"

"No, Juba. I went to sleep, and when I woke up he was gone. "

"Lor', chile, he round somewhere. You look round, and maybe you findhim. "

But Frank was doomed to disappointment. He sat down ready to cry. Hefelt very lonely. He had not realized how much he enjoyed Ernest'scompany. 

"I don't know where he can have gone, Juba. Do you think he's gone andleft me?"

"I can't tell, chile. Wait till your papa comes home. He will findhim. "

Frank had to wait an hour and a half before his father's return. Allthis time he was buoyed up by the hope that Ernest would come back. Hewas continually watching the portal to see if the runaway would notcome, but in vain. 

James Fox entered the room with grave face and heavy step. He had notheard of his brother's escape, and thought him still an inmate ofCrampton jail. 

He looked about for his young captive. 

"Where is Ernest, Frank?" he asked. 

"I don't know, papa. I miss him ever so much, " said the little boytearfully. 

"But he must be somewhere about. When did you miss him?"

"He went away when I was asleep. "

The outlaw's suspicions were aroused. 

"I will look for him, " he said. 

But Ernest was in none of the rooms, nor could Juba give any accountof him. 

"Did you walk with him into the interior of the cave, Frank?" heasked. 

"Yes, papa. "

"Ha, that explains it. Go with me, and tell me just where you went. "

The little boy led the way through the vacant apartments till hereached the one through which the light came from above. 

The rope was still hanging from the projection, and this explainedErnest's escape. James Fox went up and examined it. 

"He must have got out this way, " said the outlaw. 

"Won't he come back, papa?" said Frank, sadly. 

"Yes, " said his father, resolutely. "I will bring him back. "

CHAPTER XXIII. 

GIVEN IN TRUST. 

"Well, lad, have you had enough of Emmonsville?"

The speaker was Luke Robbins, and the time was two days after theseries of exciting incidents recorded in the last few chapters. 

"Why do you ask, Luke?" replied Ernest. "Are you tired of it?"

"Yes, lad, I want to move on. There is nothing more for us here. "

"But what about the reward you are entitled to for the capture of JohnFox?"

"The cashier thinks I will only receive a part of it, as Fox hasescaped and is now at large. "

"That is unlucky. You will have to wait until the matter is decided, won't you?"

"No. He has offered me an advance of a hundred dollars, and isauthorized to collect whatever prize-money may be awarded to me. Youhave some money left?"

"Yes, about seventy-five dollars. "

"Then we both have enough to start on. I propose to go to Californiaby cars, getting there as soon as possible. When we reach there wewill see what we can do to increase our pile. "

"I like that plan. When shall we go?"

"It is now Thursday. We will start on Monday. "

Before they departed there was some sensational news. Peter Longman, one of the Fox band, taking offence at some slight put upon him byJames Fox, went to the authorities and revealed the existence andlocation of the cave, with other information of a like nature. Theresult was that a strong police force was sent to surprise and capturethe notorious outlaws. The visit was made at night, and under guidanceof Peter himself. Wholly unsuspicious of treachery, the outlaws werecaptured in their beds, and the valuable articles contained in trunksand boxes in the store-room were confiscated. 

James Fox was reclining on the sofa when the officers entered. 

"Is your name Fox?" asked the leader of the invading party. 

"Yes, " answered the outlaw, proudly. 

"Then you are my prisoner. "

"Who has betrayed me?" demanded Fox, quickly. 

There was no answer, but just behind the invading party the outlawcaught sight of Peter Longman, apparently trying to screen himselffrom observation. 

"I need not ask, " he said. "There is the treacherous hound. He shallnot live to profit by his baseness. "

Before any one could interfere, James Fox leveled his revolver atLongman, and a sharp scream showed that his aim was true. Histreacherous follower fell to the ground mortally wounded. 

James Fox looked at him disdainfully, then threw the revolver upon thefloor of the cave, and held out his hands. "Now bind me if you will, "he said; "I am your captive. "

Little Frank was a terrified witness of this scene. 

"What are they doing to you, papa?" he asked. "They are bad men. "

In spite of his fortitude the outlaw showed traces of emotion. "Thatis my little son, " he said to the lieutenant commanding. "Don't lethim suffer for the sins of his father. "

"He shall be taken care of. Do not be anxious about him. "

"There is an old colored woman here--Juba, " went on the outlaw. "Theboy is used to her. If possible, let them be together. "

Under a strong guard the famous robbers were carried to jail, and thecave which had been for years their meeting-place was dismantled andwas never again used for a criminal resort. 

When Ernest read the story his feelings were mixed. He rejoiced thatthe outlaws were taken, but he felt a sympathy for little Frank, andunderstood what a shock it must be to the father and son to beseparated, and to have their home so suddenly and violently broken up. 

He learned where Frank was, and called upon him. He had been taken tohis own home by the police commander, and it was there that Ernestfound him. 

When he entered the room where Frank sat disconsolately at the window, the little fellow uttered a cry of joy. 

"Is it you, Ernest?" he said, running forward. "I thought I shouldnever see you again. "

Ernest stooped over and kissed the little boy. 

"You see I am here, " he said. 

"What made you go away? Why didn't you tell me you were going?"

"I will tell you some time, Frank. I hope you are feeling well. "

"Why did those bad men take papa away?"

"I do not think you would understand. Where is Juba?"

"She is now in the kitchen. I will call her. "

Juba came in, and seemed pleased to see Ernest. 

"I have got a letter for you, honey, " she said, fumbling in herpocket. 

She brought out a yellow envelope. It was directed to Ernest. 

The contents ran thus:

Now that misfortune has come upon me, my chief thought is for my boy. Whatever befalls me, I want him cared for. You are scarcely more thana stranger to me, but when you were in the cave you seemed to loveFrank. Poor boy, he will stand in need of some friend who loves him. So far as you can, will you be his friend and guardian? He has someproperty--a few thousand dollars--which you will hold in trust forhim. It is not stolen property. It was left him by his mother. 

Call upon Mr. Samuel Hardy, a lawyer in Lee's Falls, and he will makeover to you the custody of the money, and look upon you as theauthorized guardian of Frank. You know my wish that he should be sentto a good school and properly educated. Will you carry out my wishesin that respect? I do not wish to tie you down, but wherever you maygo, keep up an active interest in my boy, and from time to time writeto him. 

I do not know what my fate may be. I am not a coward, and shall notcomplain or beg for mercy. 

When you speak of me to Frank in after years, always paint me at mybest, and let him understand that at least I loved him. 

JAMES FOX. 

P. S. Should Frank die before maturity, I desire that his propertyshould go to you. 

Ernest read the foregoing with mingled feelings. He knew that thewriter was an outlaw, deeply stained with crime; but this lettershowed him at his best. Paternal love softened the harsh outlines ofhis character, and spoke of a nature that might have made him ablessing instead of a curse to his kind. 

Ernest lost no time in communicating with Mr. Hardy. 

The lawyer read the letter in some surprise. 

"Mr. Fox seems to have appointed a young guardian for his son, " heremarked. 

"Yes, sir; but he appeared to have no choice. It would have beenbetter had he appointed you. "

"No; I do not care to assume that responsibility. I am ready to assistyou, however. "

"I will depend upon you, then, for I shall start for California as soonas possible. Can you recommend a satisfactory boarding-school?"

"I have a son at school in Lincoln. The school is under the charge ofa clergyman, who is an efficient teacher, yet is popular with hispupils. "

"Can you arrange to enter Frank at his school?"

"I will do so, if you authorize me. "

"I don't think we can do any better. Were you aware that Mr. Fox wasthe notorious outlaw?" asked Ernest, after a pause. 

"I did not know, but latterly I have suspected it. You may besurprised that under the circumstances I should have consented toserve him. But I felt that I might be of assistance to the boy, andthat my refusal would occasion him embarrassment. Your letter issatisfactory, as showing that the fortune of your ward is not made upof ill-gotten gains. Were it otherwise, he would hardly be allowed tokeep it. Does Frank know his father's character and reputation?"

"I don't think so. "

"It had best be kept from him. I will see that it does not becomeknown at school. It would wound the boy to be twitted with it by hisschoolmates. "

Thanks to Mr. Hardy, Ernest found that the new charge imposed upon himwould not materially interfere with his plans. A week later than hehad originally intended he and Luke Robbins left Emmonsville by aWestern-bound train. 

As they rushed rapidly over the prairies, Luke Robbins turned to hisyoung companion and said, "Our journey thus far has been adventurous. I wonder what lies before us?"

"We won't trouble ourselves on that score, Luke. I feel hopeful. "

"So do I; and yet we have less than two hundred dollars between us. "

"That's true. "

"Still, I have captured an outlaw, and you, at the age of sixteen, arethe guardian of an outlaw's son. "

"I don't think we shall meet with anything stranger than that. "

Two days later, in a newspaper bought at an important station, therewas an article that deeply interested both travellers. It related tothe Fox brothers, recounting their daring attempt to escape from thejail where they were confined. John Fox got away, but James was shotdead by one of the prison guards. 

So Frank was an orphan, and Ernest felt that his responsibility wasincreased. 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

STEPHEN RAY AND HIS SON. 

Leaving Ernest and Luke Robbins on their way to California, ourattention is called to other characters who must play a part in thedrama of the boy from Oak Forks. 

A few miles from Elmira, upon an eminence from which there was a fineview of the surrounding country, stood the handsome country mansion ofStephen Ray, already referred to as the cousin of Ernest's father. Itpassed into his possession by inheritance from poor Ernest'sgrandfather, the will under which the bequest was made cutting off hisson for no worse a crime than marrying a girl thoroughly respectablebut of humble birth. 

Stephen Ray, since he came into possession of his uncle's estate, hadimproved it considerably. He had torn down the old stable and built animposing new one. The plain carriage which had satisfied his uncle hadbeen succeeded by an elegant coach, and the sober but rather slowhorse by a pair of spirited steeds. 

Mr. Ray had become pompous, and by his manner made it clear that heconsidered him self a man of great consequence. He was a localmagistrate, and had for years endeavored to obtain a nomination forCongress. 

Had he been of popular manners he would probably have succeeded, buthe was not a favorite among the poorer classes, and their vote must beconsidered. 

There is an old saying, "Like father, like son, " and Clarence, nowturned sixteen, the only child of the country magnate, was like hisfather in all objectionable qualities. He was quite as much impressedwith ideas of his own consequence. 

It was about three o'clock in the afternoon. Mr. Ray sat on thepiazza, the day being unusually warm, reading a newspaper. In thestreet, near by, his son Clarence was moving swiftly on a new bicyclewhich his father had just purchased for him. 

"Out of the way, there!" he called out, as a shabbily-dressed strangerwith a weary step plodded along the pathway. 

Whether because he was hard of hearing or because his mind waspreoccupied, the stranger did not heed the warning, and Clarence, whomight easily have avoided the collision, ran into him recklessly. Hadthe bicycle been moving at a greater rate of speed, he might have beenseriously hurt. As it was, he was nearly thrown down. 

But he rallied, and seizing the offending rider with no gentle grasp, dragged him from the wheel and shook him vigorously. 

"Let me alone, you tramp!" exclaimed Clarence, furiously. 

But the stranger did not release his hold. 

"Not till you apologize for running into me, " he answered sternly. 

"Apologize to a man like you!" ejaculated Clarence, strugglingfuriously for his freedom. "What do you take me for?"

"For an impudent young rascal, " was the reply. 

"Let me alone, I tell you!"

"Will you apologize?"

"There is no need of an apology. You got in my way. "

"You have no business on the sidewalk with your bicycle. It is meantfor foot-passengers. "

"Do you know who I am?" demanded Clarence, haughtily. 

"No, I don't, nor do I care. "

"I am Clarence Ray, son of Squire Stephen Ray. He is a magistrate, andhe can send you to jail. "

These words of Clarence had the effect he desired. The strangerreleased him and eyed him with close scrutiny. 

"So you are the son of Stephen Ray?" he said. 

"Yes. What have you to say now?"

"That you had no right to run into me, whoever your father may be. "

"I shall report your insolence to my father. I shall charge you withviolently assaulting me. "

"I might have known you were Stephen Ray's son, " said the strangerthoughtfully. 

"Do you know my father?" asked Clarence in considerable surprise. 

"I am on my way to call upon him. "

"I don't think it will do any good. He never gives money to tramps. "

"I have a great mind to give you another shaking up, " said the man, and in some fear Clarence edged away from him. 

It was evident that this shabby-looking stranger had not a properrespect for those who were in a higher station. 

"I will tell him not to give you anything, " continued Clarence. 

"Like father, like son, " said the stranger thoughtfully, apparentlynot disturbed by the boy's threats. 

Evidently he was no common tramp, or he would have been morerespectful to the son of the man from whom he was probably about toask a favor. 

"You just wait till you see my father. He'll give you a lecture thatyou won't soon forget. "

"You'd better get on your wheel, boy, and go right along, " said thestranger calmly. 

"Do you know where my father lives?"

"Yes, at yonder fine house. I see him sitting out on the piazza. Shallwe go along together?"

"No, I don't keep such company as you. Tramps are not my style. "

"And yet some day you may be as poor and friendless as myself. "

"That isn't very likely; my father is a very rich man. "

"I knew him when he was poor. "

More and more puzzled by the independent manner of this shabbystranger, Clarence made a spurt, and soon found himself in the groundsof his father's house. 

"With whom were you talking, Clarence?" asked Stephen Ray, as his sonjoined him on the piazza. 

"One of the most impudent tramps I ever came across, " answeredClarence. "He made an attack upon me, and pulled me from my bicycle. "

Stephen Ray's cheek flamed with anger. An insult to his son was aninsult to him. 

"Why did he do this? How dared he?" he demanded angrily. 

"Because I happened to touch him as I passed, " answered Clarence. 

"He actually pulled you from your bicycle?" asked Stephen Ray, almostincredulous. 

"Yes. "

"I should like to meet him. I should feel justified in ordering hisarrest. "

"You will have a chance to meet him. He told me he was going to callupon you there he is now, entering the gate. "

Stephen was glad to hear it. He wanted to empty the vials of his wrathon the audacious offender. He prided himself on his grand manner. 

He was accustomed to seeing men of the stamp of this stranger quailbefore him and show nervous alarm at his rebukes. He had no doubt thathis majestic wrath would overwhelm the shabby outcast who hadaudaciously assaulted his son and heir. 

He rose to his feet, and stood the personification of haughtydispleasure as the poor man, who dared his anger, walked composedly upthe path. He now stood by the piazza steps. 

"It is well you have come here, " began the squire in a dignified tone. "My son tells me that you have committed an unprovoked outrage uponhim in dragging him from his wheel. I can only conclude that you areunder the influence of liquor. "

Stephen Ray waited curiously to hear what the man would say. He wasprepared for humble apologies. 

"I am no more drunk than yourself, if that is what you mean, StephenRay, " was the unexpected reply. 

Squire Ray was outraged and scandalized. 

"You must be drunk or you would not dare to talk in this way. Whoauthorized you to address me in this familiar way?"

"You are only a man, I believe, Stephen Ray. I have addressed you asrespectfully as you have spoken to me. "

"Respect to you?" repeated Mr. Ray, disdainfully. "Has the time comewhen we must be respectful to tramps?"

"A poor tramp is quite as deserving of respect as a rich rascal. "

"What do you mean by that?" demanded the squire suspiciously. 

"It was a general remark. "

"It is well that it was. But it has no application in the presentinstance. If you are poor I will give you a quarter, but only oncondition that you apologize to my son. "

The stranger laughed. 

"Why should I apologize to your son?" he asked. 

"You pulled him off his bicycle. Do you deny it?"

"No, I do not. Do you know what he did?"

"He brushed against you with his wheel, he tells me, accidentally. "

"So that is his version of it? He deliberately ran into me. "

"I gave you warning. I said 'Out of the way, there!'" interruptedClarence. 

"Yes, but you had no right on the side walk. That is meant forfoot-passengers. "

"It seems to me, sir, that you are remarkably independent for a man ofyour rank. Even if it had been as you say, you had no right to assaultmy son. I might have you arrested on your own confession, but I willforbear doing so on condition that you leave town at once. "

"I have a little business with you, first, Stephen Ray. "

"If you expect alms, you have come to the wrong man. I don't believein encouraging beggars. "

"I know very well that you are not charitable. You see, I used to beacquainted with you. "

"Who are you?"

"My name is Benjamin Bolton. "

Stephen Ray looked startled. 

"Benjamin Bolton!" he repeated, half incredulous. "I can't believeit. "

CHAPTER XXV. 

A STARTLING DISCLOSURE. 

"Look at me closely, Stephen Ray, " said the strange visitor. "I thinkyou will see some traces of the Bolton you used to know. "

Stephen Ray, somewhat discomposed, did examine his visitor closely. Against his will he was obliged to acknowledge the resemblance of theman before him to one who in past times had had an intimateacquaintance with his affairs. 

"You may be Benjamin Bolton, " he said after a pause, "but if so, youhave fallen off greatly in your appearance. When I first knew you, youwere well dressed and--"

"Respectable, I suppose you mean to say?"

"Well, respectable, if you will have it so. Now you look more like atramp than a lawyer. "

"True as gospel, every word of it. But it isn't too late to mend. That's an old proverb and a true one. It is quite in the line ofpossibility that I should get back to the position from which I fell. "

"Perhaps so, but I'm not sanguine of it. "

"With your powerful help nothing is impossible--not even that. "

"You must not count upon that, " said Stephen Ray, stiffly. "It is agood while since we parted company. I don't myself care to renew theacquaintance. "

"But I do, " rejoined Bolton with emphasis. "I told you that I hadbusiness with you. "

"I have very little time at my disposal, " said Ray, pulling out anelegant gold watch--a Jurgensen--and consulting it. 

"I think it may be well for you to spare me a little time, " went onBolton, quietly. 

There was something in his tone that sounded like a threat, andStephen Ray could not wholly conceal his uneasiness. 

"Well, " he said, "I will give you ten minutes. Get through yourbusiness, whatever it is, as soon as possible. "

"Hadn't you better send your son away?" suggested Bolton, significantly. 

"Why should I?"

But on second thoughts Mr. Ray concluded to act on the hint, andturning to Clarence he said, "Clarence, you might take another spin onyour wheel. "

This did not suit Clarence at all. His curiosity had been excited byhis father's change of front towards the objectionable stranger, andhe counted on finding out the reason for it. 

"Why can't I stay?" he grumbled. "I am tired of riding. "

"Then go up stairs. This man and I have a little private businesstogether. "

He spoke firmly, and Clarence knew by his tone that furtherremonstrance would be un availing, so with a dissatisfied look he leftthe room. 

"Now, sir, " said Stephen Ray, sharply, when his son had taken hisdeparture, "I gave you ten minutes. You will need to be expeditious. "

"It will take more than ten minutes--what I have to say, " returnedBolton, coolly. "I am rather tired of standing, so you will excuse meif I sit down. "

As he spoke he dropped into a comfortable chair three feet from hishost. 

"Confound his impudence!" thought Ray, much annoyed. 

"I think we had better go indoors, " he said. 

He did not care to be seen in an apparently friendly conversation witha man like Bolton. 

"Very well. I think myself it may be better. "

He followed Ray into a room which the latter used as a library andoffice, and took care to select a comfortable seat. 

"Really, Stephen Ray, " he remarked, glancing around him at thewell-filled bookcases, the handsome pictures, and the luxuriousfurniture, "you are very nicely fixed here. "

"I suppose you didn't come to tell me that, " responded Stephen Raywith a sneer. 

"Well, not altogether, but it is as well to refer to it. I have knownyou a good many years. I remember when you first came here to visityour uncle in the character of a poor relation. I don't believe youhad a hundred dollars to your name. "

Such references grated upon the purse-proud aristocrat, who tried topersuade himself that he had always been as prosperous as at present. 

"There is no occasion for your reminiscences, " he said stiffly. 

"No, I suppose you don't care to think of those days now. Your cousin, Dudley, a fine young man, was a year or two older. Who would havethought that the time would come when you--the poor cousin--would bereigning in his place?"

"If that is all you have to say, our interview may as well close. "

"It isn't all I have to say. I must indulge in a few morereminiscences, though you dislike them. A few years passed. Dudleymarried against his father's wishes; that is, his father did notapprove of his selection, and he fell out of favor. As he lost favoryou gained it. "

"That is true enough, but it is an old story. Why recall it?"

"Does it seem just that an own son should be disinherited and astranger--"

"A near relative, " corrected Stephen Ray. 

"Well, a near relative, but less near than an only son. Does it seemright that Dudley should have been disinherited and you put in hisplace?"

"Certainly. My cousin disobeyed his father, while I was always dutifuland obedient. "

"So he was left in poverty. "

"I don't see how that concerns you, Benjamin Bolton. My uncle had theright to dispose of his property as he pleased. It was not for me toquestion his right nor you. "

"Probably Dudley Ray is living in poverty now. "

"You are mistaken. He is dead. "

"Indeed! Poor fellow. He was a generous and high-minded man. "

"Whatever he may have been, he offended his father and suffered theconsequences. "

"Too true!"

"But I fail to understand why you should have come to discuss thismatter with me. "

"When did Dudley die?"

"I can't be sure as to the year. I think it was about a year after hisfather's death. "

"I presume that his father's injustice helped to hasten his end. "

"I won't permit any reflections upon my dear uncle and benefactor. Hedid what he liked with his own. He felt that the estate would bebetter in my hands than in Dudley's. "

"Admitting for a moment that this was so, did your heart prompt you tobestow a part of the estate on your unfortunate cousin?"

"No; for I am sure my uncle would have disapproved of such action onmy part. "

"Do you know if he suffered much from poverty?"

"No; I did not concern myself with that, nor need you. "

"I would like to comment on one of your statements. You say that youruncle had a right to dispose of his estate as he pleased. "

"Do you dispute it?"

"No; I agree with you. Stephen Ray, was his estate disposed ofaccording to his wishes?"

Mr. Ray started, and his face became flushed. 

"What do you mean?" he asked. 

"I mean that he bequeathed the estate to his son, and you tookpossession of it. "

Bolton spoke slowly, and eyed Stephen Ray keenly. 

"Are you mad?" gasped Stephen. "How could I do that? His will, devising the estate to me, was duly probated, and I entered upon myinheritance by due process of law. "

"I know such a will was probated. "

"Then what have you to say?" demanded Stephen Ray, defiantly. "Do youmean to deny that the will was genuine?"

"No. "

"Because if you do, you can go to the probate office, and submit thewill to any judge of my uncle's handwriting. "

"There will be no occasion. I admit that the will was written by him. "

"What do you mean, then?" asked Stephen Ray, showing relief. 

"I mean this--that it was not his _last_ will and testament. "

"Where is the later one? Produce it if you can, " said Stephen Ray, triumphantly. 

"You say this fearlessly because you found a later will--and destroyedit. "

"It is a vile slander!"

"No; I will swear that such a will was made. "

"If it was destroyed, he destroyed it himself. "

"No, he did not. I am willing to swear that when he died that will wasin existence. "

"I don't think your swearing will do much good, " sneered Stephen Ray. 

"Perhaps so; but one thing has not occurred to you. "

"What is that?"

"A duplicate of the last will was placed in my hands. _That willexists to-day!_"

Stephen Ray started violently. 

"I don't believe it, " he said. 

"Seeing is believing. "

"Then bring it here, and let me see it. However, there is one materialcircumstance that would make it of no value. "

"What is it?"

"My cousin Dudley is dead, and so is his son Ernest. There would be noone to profit by the production of the alleged will. "

Bolton was quite taken aback by this statement, as Stephen Rayperceived, and he plumed himself on the success of his falsehood. 

"When did the boy die?" asked Bolton. 

"About five years ago. "

"And where?"

"At Savannah, " answered Ray, glibly. 

"What should have taken him down there?"

"I am not positive, but I believe after his father's death a Southerngentleman became interested in him and took him to Georgia, where thepoor boy died. "

Bolton looked keenly at the face of his companion, and detected anexpression of triumph about the eyes which led him to doubt the truthof his story. But he decided not to intimate his disbelief. 

"That was sad, " he said. 

"Yes; and as you will see, even had your story about the will beentrue it would have made no difference in the disposal of theproperty. "

"Still the revelation of your complicity in the suppression of thelast will would injure your reputation, Mr. Ray. "

"I can stand it, " answered Ray with assumed indifference. "You see, mydear fellow, you have brought your wares to the wrong market. Ofcourse you are disappointed. "

"Yes, especially as I am dead broke. "

"No doubt. "

"And it prompts me to take my chances with the will in spite of thedeath of the rightful heirs. "

"What do you propose to do?"

"Lay the matter before a shrewd lawyer of my acquaintance, and beguided by his advice. "

Stephen Ray looked uneasy. The lawyer might suggest doubts as to thetruth of his story concerning Ernest's decease. 

"That would be very foolish, " he said. 

"Would it? Then perhaps you can suggest a better course. "

"You are a man of education and have been a lawyer yourself. Get aplace in the office of some attorney and earn an honest living. "

"You see how I am dressed. Who would employ me in this garb?"

"There is something in what you say. I feel for you, Bolton. Changedas you are, you were once a friend. I certainly haven't any reason tofeel friendly to you, especially as you came here with the intentionof extorting money from me. But I can make allowance for you in yourunfortunate plight, and am willing to do something for you. Bring methe document you say you possess, and I will give you fifty no, ahundred dollars. "

Bolton eyed his prosperous companion with a cunning smile. 

"No, Stephen Ray, I prefer to keep the will, " he replied, "though Ican do nothing with it. Give me the money unconditionally, and if Iget on my feet you will have nothing to fear from me. "

CHAPTER XXVI. 

BOUGHT OFF. 

Bolton's reply did not quite suit Mr. Ray, but he felt that if he saidtoo much about the will it would give it an exaggerated importance inthe eyes of the man before him. So he answered carelessly, "Oh, verywell! The document is of no value, and though I should prefer to haveit, I won't insist. I will give you the hundred dollars, but I wish itunderstood that it is all I can give you at any time. Don't apply tome again, for it will be of no use. "

"I understand, " said Bolton, non-committally. 

"Shall I give you a check?"

"I could do better with the money. My name is not known now at anybank. "

"Well, I think I can accommodate you. I believe I have that sum in mydesk. "

He opened a drawer in his secretary, and produced a hundred dollars incrisp new bills. They had been taken from the bank the day before fora different purpose. 

Bolton took them joyfully. It was long since he had had so much moneyin his possession. He had been his own worst enemy. Once a prosperouslawyer, he had succumbed to the love of drink, and gradually lost hisclients and his position. But he had decided to turn over a new leaf, and he saw in this money the chance to reinstate himself, and in timerecover his lost position. 

"Thank you, " he said; but while there was relief there was nogratitude in his tone. 

"And now, " said Stephen Ray, "I must ask you to leave me. I haveimportant business to attend to. You will excuse me if I suggest itwould be better to go away--to a distance--and try to build yourselfup somewhere where you are not known. "

"I might go to Savannah. "

"Yes, to Savannah, if you think it will be to your advantage, " saidRay with equanimity. 

The other noticed his manner, and he said to himself, "He is willingto have me visit Savannah. _It is clear that Ernest did not diethere. "_

Benjamin Bolton left the house in a pleasant frame of mind. It was notthe sum which he had received that exhilarated him. He looked upon itonly as the first instalment. It was clear that Stephen Ray fearedhim, for he was not an open-handed man, and would not have parted withhis money unnecessarily. 

Bolton had not arranged his campaign, but he was determined to raisehimself in the world by playing on the fears of the man he had justvisited. 

"I wonder, " he said to himself, "whether Dudley Ray's son is reallydead. He was a strong and healthy boy, and he may still be living. "

This was a point not easy to ascertain. 

He went to a restaurant and obtained a substantial meal, of which hestood very much in need. Then he went out for a stroll. He did notpropose to leave the place yet. 

As he was walking along he met Clarence Ray again, but not now on hisbicycle. The boy recognized him. 

"Are you going to stay in town?" asked Clarence, curiously. 

"Not long. "

"Did you get through your business with pa?"

"Yes, for the present. By the way, I suppose you know that you have acousin about your own age. I used to know him and his father. "

"Did you? His father is dead. "

"So I have understood. Do you happen to know where the son is?"

"Somewhere out West, I think. "

Bolton pricked up his ears. So it seemed that Stephen Ray had deceivedhim. 

"I would give five dollars to know where he is, " he said slowly. 

"Have you got five dollars?" Clarence asked, doubtfully. 

By way of answer Bolton took a roll of bills from his pocket. Theywere those which Stephen Ray had given him. 

"Do you mean it?" asked Clarence, in a more respectful tone. SinceBolton had money, he regarded him differently. 

"Yes, I mean it. "

"Why didn't you ask pa?"

"He never liked the boy nor his father, and I don't think he wouldtell me. "

"That is true. He didn't like either of them. "

"I suppose you couldn't find out for me?" said Bolton, tentatively. 

"I don't know but I could, " answered Clarence, briskly. 

He had a special use for five dollars, and it struck him that he mightjust as well earn the money offered by the stranger. 

"If you could, I would cheerfully pay you the five dollars. You see Iused to know Ernest Ray and his father, and I would be pleased to meetErnest again. "

"Just so, " said Clarence, complaisantly. "How long are you going toremain in town?"

"I did think of going to Elmira to-night, but I think on the whole Iwill stay at the hotel here till to-morrow morning. "

"That will give me time to find out, " said Clarence. 

"All right! You had better not ask your father, for he is soprejudiced I don't think he would tell you. "

"That's so. He will be going out this evening, and then I will searchin his desk. I saw a letter there once in which the boy's name wasmentioned. But I say, if you've got money why don't you buy some newclothes? You look awfully shabby. "

"Your suggestion is a good one, " said Bolton, smiling. "Come to lookat myself I _do_ appear shabby. But then I'm no dude. I dare say whenyou rode into me this morning you took me for a tramp. "

"Well, you _did_ look like one. "

"That's so. I can't blame you. "

"Shall I find you at the hotel this evening?"

"Yes. "

"Then I'll see what I can do. "

About seven o'clock Squire Ray went out to attend to a businessmeeting, and Clarence was left in possession of the study. He lockedthe door and began to ransack his father's desk. At length hesucceeded in his quest. 

Benjamin Bolton was sitting in the public room of the hotel an hourlater smoking a cigar, and from time to time looking towards the door. Presently Clarence entered, and went up to him. 

"Have you got it?" asked Bolton, eagerly. 

"Yes, " nodded Clarence. 

He took a piece of paper from his vest pocket and handed it to Bolton. 

It read thus: _"Ernest Ray, Oak Forks, Iowa. "_

"How did you get it?" asked Bolton. 

"I found a letter in pa's desk from an old man named Peter Brant, asking pa for some money for the boy, who was living with him. "

"When was that letter written?"

"About two years ago. "

"Thank you. This gives me a clue. Come out of doors and I will giveyou what I promised. It isn't best that any one should think we haddealings together. "

Five minutes later Clarence started for home, happy in the possessionof a five-dollar bill. 

"I never paid any money more cheerfully in my life, " mused Bolton. "Now I must find the boy!"

CHAPTER XXVII. 

THE TOWN OF OREVILLE. 

When Ernest and Luke Robbins started for California they had no verydefinite plans as to the future. But they found among theirfellow-passengers a man who was just returning from the East, where hehad been to visit his family. He was a practical and successful miner, and was by no means reluctant to speak of his success. 

"When I landed in Frisco, " he said, "two years ago, I had just fortydollars left after paying the expenses of my trip. I couldn't findanything to do in the city, so I set out for the mines. "

"Where did you go?" asked Luke, becoming interested. 

"To Oreville. At least, that's what they call it now. Then it didn'thave a name. "

"I hope you prospered, " said Ernest. 

"Well, not just at first, but luck came after a while. When I reachedthe mines I was dead broke, and went to work for somebody else. Aftera while I staked out a claim for myself. Well, I won't go intoparticulars, but I've got six thousand dollars salted down with atrust company in Frisco, and I've got a few hundred dollars about myclothes besides. "

"That's the place for us, Ernest, " said Luke. 

"So I think, " answered Ernest. 

"Do you want to go to the mines?" asked the miner. 

"Yes; we have our fortunes to make, and are willing to work. "

"Then go out to Oreville with me. Have you got any money?"

"We have enough to get there, and perhaps a little over. "

"That will do. I'll set you to work on one of my claims. We will shareand share alike. How will that suit you?"

"It seems fair. Do you think we can make enough to live upon?"

"That depends partly on yourselves and partly upon luck. Luck hassomething to do with it. "

"At any rate, we are willing to work, " said Ernest. 

"Then I'm your friend, and will help you, " said the miner heartily. "Tom Ashton never goes back on his friends. "

This was very encouraging. Luke and Ernest were not dead broke, butwere near it. They had less than forty dollars between them, and theyhad already found out that living was high in California. Theyremained but a day in San Francisco, and then started for Orevillewith Mr. Ashton. 

The two friends knew nothing of mining, but as practised in thoseearly days it took very little time to learn. They found that theirnew friend was a man of consideration at Oreville. He owned severalclaims, and had no difficulty in finding them employment. They set towork at once, for they were almost penniless. 

It may be easily supposed that the miners were not fastidious aboutliving. The cabins or huts which they occupied were primitive to thelast degree. Generally they did their own cooking, such as it was. Three of these cabins Tom Ashton owned, and one was assigned to theuse of Ernest and his friend. 

For years, Ernest, with his old friend and supposed uncle, PeterBrant, had lived in a cabin at Oak Forks, but it was superior to theirnew residence. Yet his former experience enabled him the better toaccommodate himself to the way of living at Oreville. 

For a month the two friends worked steadily at their claim, whichAshton had finally given them. They made something, but not much. Infact, it was with difficulty that they made expenses. 

"It will be a long time before we make our pile, Ernest, " said Lukeone evening, as he sat in front of his cabin smoking. 

"Yes, Luke, things don't look very promising, " replied Ernest, gravely. 

"If it weren't for my pipe I should feel blue. Smoking cheers me up. "

"That is where you have the advantage of me, Luke. "

"You have the same chance that I have. I have an extra pipe. Won't youtake a smoke?"

Ernest shook his head. 

"I think I'm better off without it. "

"Perhaps you're right, lad. I remember my poor father warned meagainst smoking. The question is, how long we'd better keep at it. "

"Is there anything else, Luke?"

"Well, no; not here. "

"And we haven't money enough to get away. "

Just then a tall man with reddish hair strode across the field totheir cabin. 

"Good evening, neighbors, " he said. "How are you making out?"

"Not over-well, " answered Luke. 

"There's a difference in claims. You've got a poor one. "

"Probably you are right. "

"There's been considerable gold dust gathered in Oreville within sixmonths. I have been one of the lucky ones. "

"Indeed! I am glad of it. "

"Yes; I found a nugget two months since that I sold for two thousanddollars. I have made five thousand within a year. "

"You've been in luck. I wish the boy and I could be as successful. "

"The claim is not good enough to support two. Why not let the boy findsomething else?"

"You wouldn't have me freeze him out?" said Luke, in a tone ofdispleasure. 

"No, but suppose I find something for him to do? What then?"

"That's a different matter. Have you an extra claim?"

"Yes; but that isn't what I offer him. I have a plan in which he canhelp me. "

"What is it?"

"All our supplies come from Sacramento. What we need is a retail storein Oreville--a general store for the sale of almost everything thatminers need. "

"It would be a good plan to open one, " said Luke, approvingly. 

"Now, you must know that I am an old storekeeper. I had for years astore about twenty miles from Boston. I succeeded fairly with it, butmy health gave out. The doctor told me I must not be so confined--thatI needed out-of-door exercise. So I came out here and got it. Well, the advice proved good. I am strong and robust, and I feelenterprising. Now, what I propose is this: I will open a store, andput the boy in charge under me. "

"I should like it, " said Ernest, eagerly. 

"You know what we pay for supplies. There's at least a hundred percent, made, and no one objects to the prices. Why shouldn't we make itas well as the Sacramento storekeepers?"

"True!" said Luke. 

"I don't ask you to work for me, my friend, for I don't think it wouldsuit you. "

"It wouldn't. At home--that's in Oak Forks, Iowa--I was a hunter. Iwas always in the open air. The sort of life we live here suits me, though I haven't made much money as yet. "

"The boy, I think, would do. He looks like a hustler. I need only lookat his face to know that he'd be honest and faithful. What is yourname, boy?"

"Ernest Ray. "

"That's a good name. You'll only have to live up to it--to the firstpart of it, I mean. Then you accept my offer?"

"You haven't made any, " said Ernest, smiling. 

"Oh, you mean about wages. Well, I don't offer any stated wages. Iwill give you one-third profits, and then your pay will depend on yoursuccess. The fact is, you are to keep the store. "

Ernest looked an inquiry. 

"One person can attend to it by day. I will come in the evening, andtake a general look after things. Just at first I'll stay with youtill you've got the hang of things. But during the day I shall belooking after my claims. Do you know how to keep books?"

"I understand single entry bookkeeping. "

"That will be all you will require. "

"How soon shall you start?" asked Ernest, who began to feel very muchinterested. 

"I will go to Sacramento to-morrow, now that we have come to terms. You know that frame building near Ashton's cabin?"

"Yes. "

"I don't know what it was originally used for, but it is empty and Ican secure it for our store. It isn't large, but it will hold all weneed. I can get new supplies as we need them. "

"Yes, that will do. "

"You haven't said how you like my offer. "

"Of one-third profits? I like it better than if you paid me wages. Iwill make it amount to a good deal. "

"That will suit me. I don't care how much you make out of it, for Ishall make twice as much. "

"How did you happen to think of me?"

"I've watched you ever since you came. I can judge of any one, boy orman, if I have time enough to take stock of him. I saw that you werejust the man for me. "

"Boy, " suggested Ernest, smiling. 

"Oh, well, I'll make a man of you. By the way, an idea has justoccurred to me. You'd better go to Sacramento with me to-morrow. "

"I should like to do it, " said Ernest, brightening up. 

"Then you can notice where I buy my supplies. You may need to go alonesometimes. "

"At what time will we start?"

"The stage leaves at seven o'clock. "

"I will be ready. "

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE TURNS UP. 

The journey to Sacramento was made, the goods selected, and in lessthan a week the new store was stocked. In the arrangement of goodsErnest took a zealous part. He had never served in a store, yet itseemed to come natural to him, and he felt more interest in it than inthe work of mining. 

After the store was in full working order Horace Ames left Ernest assole manager, coming in only in the evening to look at the books, forErnest, as far as possible, kept a record of every sale. 

Storekeeping in those days and in that country was unusuallyprofitable. Ernest made a little comparison between the cost of goodsand the selling price, and arrived at the conclusion that the averageprofits were a hundred per cent. And still the miners were able to buygoods cheaper than when they sent to Sacramento for them. 

At the end of the first week Ernest figured up the sales and foundthey aggregated two hundred dollars. His share of the profits amountedto a little over thirty dollars. 

This was encouraging, being three times as much as he had everrealized in the same length of time from mining. 

There was one embarrassment. There was no bank in the place wheremoney could be deposited, and of course the chance of loss by robberywas much increased. However, his partner purchased a small safe, andthis afforded some security. 

One day a man entered the store, and purchased a pipe and tobacco. Hewas a stranger to Ernest, but there was something familiar in hislook, yet he could not place him. 

The newcomer looked about with considerable curiosity. 

"You have quite a snug store here, " he remarked. 

"Yes. "

"Does it belong to you?"

"I have an interest in it, but it belongs to Mr. Ames. "

"Is he here much?"

"He usually comes in evenings, but he is interested in mining. "

"You seem to have a good trade. "

"What makes you think so?"

"You have a good stock. You would not keep so many goods unless youhad a call for them. "

"Have I ever seen you before?" asked Ernest abruptly, for the ideagrew upon him that he and his new customer had met somewhere underpeculiar circumstances. 

"I don't know. I don't remember you, " answered the customer, shrugginghis shoulders. "I haven't been in California long. I suppose you wereborn here. "

"No; very few of those now living in California were born here. I oncelived in Iowa. Were you ever there?"

"Never, " answered the customer. "I've been in Missouri, but never inIowa. "

"I have never been in that State. Are you going to stay here?"

"I don't know. It depends on whether I can make any money. I supposeyou don't want to hire a clerk?"

"No. "

Ernest said to himself that this man, with his shifty looks andsuspicious appearance, would be about the last man he would think ofengaging. 

"Perhaps Mr. Ames would give you a chance to work some of his claims, "he suggested. 

"I will look about me a little before I apply to him, " replied thecustomer. 

"Did you come here alone?" he asked after a pause. 

"No. A friend came with me--Luke Robbins. "

The stranger started a little when Ernest pronounced this name, sothat young Ray was led to inquire, "Do you know Luke?"

"How should I know him? Is he a young man?"

"No; he is probably about your age. "

"I suppose he came with you from Nebraska?"

"Iowa. "

"Oh, yes, Iowa. He isn't in the store, is he?"

"He is working for Mr. Ashton on one of his claims. "

At this point a new customer came in, and the visitor, after a briefdelay, left the store. 

When Ernest had waited upon the new customer he look for the firstvisitor, but missed him. 

"I wonder who he was, " he reflected, puzzled. "I am sure that I haveseen him before. "

But think as he might, he could not trace him. 

Yet with this man he had had a very exciting experience in Oak Forks, for it was no other than Tom Burns, the tramp who had entered hiscabin during the night and robbed him, and later had attacked him whendigging for Peter's hidden treasure. It had been only a few monthssince they had met, but Tom Burns, during that time, had grown a thickbeard, which had help to disguise him. 

It is hardly necessary to explain how Burns had found his way out toOreville. It was his business to tramp about the country, and it hadstruck him that in the land of gold he would have a chance to line hispockets with treasure which did not belong to him. So fortune haddirected his steps to Oreville. 

When he entered the store in which Ernest was employed, heimmediately, and in some surprise, recognized the boy of Oak Forks. Hewas glad to find that Ernest did not recognize him, and he immediatelybegan to consider in what way he could turn the circumstance to hisown advantage. 

"I wonder if the boy sleeps there, " he said to himself. "If so, I willmake him a visit to night. Probably the money he has taken in duringthe day will be in some drawer where I can get hold of it. "

As he was leaving the store in the stealthy way habitual to him he meta man walking towards the place with a long and careless stride. 

He started nervously, for this man was one whom he dreaded, and hadreason to fear. 

It was Luke Robbins, who, tired with working the claim, was going tothe store to replenish his stock of tobacco. 

Tom Burns pulled his soft hat down over his eyes and pushed swiftlyon. 

Luke Robbins halted a moment and looked at him. As in Ernest's case, he seemed to see something familiar in the appearance of the tramp. Herealized, at all events, that he was a stranger in Oreville, for heknew every one in the mining settlement. 

"Who are you, stranger? Have I seen you before?" asked Luke, hailinghim. 

Tom Burns did not dare to reply, for he feared that Luke might proveto have a better memory than Ernest. So he was passing on without aresponse, when Luke, who considered his conduct suspicious, demanded, in a peremptory tone, "Who are you? Do you live here?"

Tom Burns shrugged his shoulders, and said, disguising his voice, "Meno understand English, boss. "

"What countryman are you?" asked Luke, suspiciously. 

"Italian, " answered Tom. 

"Humph! You are the first Italian I have seen in Oreville. "

"Si, signor, " answered Tom, and this comprised all the Italian heknew. 

"Well, I don't think you will find any inducement to stay. "

"Si, signor, " replied Burns, meekly. 

Without another word Luke entered the store. 

"Ernest, " he said, "I am out of tobacco and must have a smoke. Give mehalf a pound. "

"All right, Luke. "

"I ran across an Italian just outside. He seemed to be leaving thestore. "

"An Italian?" queried Ernest, his tone betraying surprise. 

"Yes. Wasn't he in here?"

"There was a man in here--a stranger, but I don't think he was anItalian. "

"This man answered me in some Italian gibberish. He said he couldn'tunderstand English. "

"What was his appearance?"

Luke described him. 

"It's the same man that was in here just now, but he could speakEnglish as well as you or I. "

"Did you have some conversation with him?"

"Yes. He looked familiar to me and I asked him who he was. He said hehad come from Missouri. He was in search of work. "

"You say he understood and spoke English?"

"Yes. "

"Then I wonder what could be his game. "

"Don't he look familiar to you?"

"Yes; there was something familiar about his appearance, but Icouldn't place him. "

"He asked me if I couldn't employ him in the store. I told him Mr. Ames might give him a chance at mining. "

"Well?"

"He said he would look round a little before deciding. "

"Did he buy anything?"

"Yes, tobacco. "

"Did you mention my name?"

"Yes, and he looked uneasy. "

"Ernest, " said Luke Robbins, with a sudden inspiration, "I know theman. "

"Who is it?"

"Don't you recall any man at Oak Forks with whom you had trouble?"

"Tom Burns?"

"Yes. That's the man. "

"Why didn't we recognize him then?"

"Because he has grown a full beard. "

"That's so, Luke. I understand now why he looked so familiar. I amsorry to see him here. "

"He'd better not undertake any of his rascalities or he will findhimself in hot water. "

CHAPTER XXIX. 

TOM BURNS MAKES A CALL. 

When Burns left the store he walked to the outskirts of the miningsettlement, not wishing to attract attention. He wished especially toavoid encountering Luke Robbins, with the strength of whose arm he wasdisagreeably familiar. 

He proposed to keep out of sight until night, and then make a visit tothe store. It would go hard with him if he did not make a raise thereeither in the shape of money or articles of value. 

He came to a cabin standing by itself, at a considerable distance fromthe homes of the other miners. Sitting in front of it was a man withgrizzled beard whose appearance indicated advanced age. There werelines upon his face that betrayed ill health. 

"I wonder if anything can be got out of him, " thought Tom Burns. "I'llsee. "

"Good day, sir, " he said affably. 

The old man looked up. 

"Good day, " he replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm an unfortunate man, in search of employment. "

"When people are unfortunate there is generally a reason for it. Areyou intemperate?"

"No, sir, " answered Burns, as if horror-stricken. "I hate the taste ofliquor. "

"I'm glad to hear it. "

"I belong to three temperance societies, " continued Tom, by way ofdeepening the favorable impression he thought he had made. 

"And still you are poor?"

"Yes, " answered Burns. "Once I was prosperous, but I was ruined bysigning notes for an unprincipled man who took advantage of myfriendship. Do you think I can find work here?"

"I don't know. Probably you can get a chance to work on one of Mr. Ames claims. "

"Is it Mr. Ames who owns the store?"

"Yes. "

"I called there to buy some tobacco. Is the boy there his son?"

"No; he is a recent arrival in Oreville. He is a very smart boy. "

"Is he? Mr. Ames trusts him, I suppose?"

"Yes. Why shouldn't he?"

"I--I would rather not answer that question. "

"Have you ever met the boy before? Do you know him?"

"Yes; I met him at the East, " answered Burns. 

"Since you have said so much, you must say more. I am a cousin of Mr. Ames, and if you know anything unfavorable of the boy it is your dutyto tell me. "

"I have nothing against the boy, and would prefer not to speak. "

"I insist upon your doing it. "

"It is only this. When I knew him he was employed in a store. He wastrusted, as he appears to be here. One night the store was robbed, that is some money disappeared, and the boy claimed it was broken intoby thieves, who took the money, whereas he took it himself. "

"That seems bad. Was it proved that he took the money?"

"Yes. That's why he was compelled to leave the place. That is why heis now in Oreville. "

"Did you come here to expose him?"

"No; I didn't know he was here. I was very much taken by surprise whenI saw him in the store. "

"This is important, if true. Mr. Ames ought to be informed. "

"Don't tell him while I am here. The boy is very revengeful, and hemight try to do me an injury. "

"Are you afraid of a boy?"

"I am a man of peace. I don't want to get into any difficulty. "

"I suppose you wonder that I am sitting here while others are atwork. "

"Well, it did cross my mind. "

"My spine is affected. I look well, but I cannot walk. I hope to bebetter after a while, but at present I am comparatively helpless. "

"Can't I help you?"

"You may go into the cabin, and bring me a bottle of medicine whichyou will find in the cupboard. "

Burns entered the cabin gladly. He thought that he might findsomething worth taking. 

On the wall, hanging from a nail, was a gold watch. It was too good achance to be lost. It might or it might not be valuable, but at anyrate it was worth something. 

So, while securing the bottle, Burns slyly possessed himself of thewatch, which he slipped into his inside breast pocket. 

"Here is the bottle, sir, " he said, meekly. 

"Thank you. Now bring a spoon, which you will find on the table. "

Burns did so. 

"Now pour out a teaspoonful, which I will take. "

"I am glad to be of service to you. Don't you want a kind attendant, while you are sick, to take care of you?"

"There would not be enough for you to do. I have a son at work in themines who is here morning and night, and he gives me all the care Irequire. "

"I am sorry to hear that, " thought Burns. "The son may be dangerous. "

"Then, sir, I will bid you good-by. I will pray for your recovery. "

"Thank you. The prayers of the righteous avail much. Are yourighteous?"

"It isn't for me to say, sir. I don't want to boast. "

"That is creditable to you. By the way, are you hungry?"

"I haven't broken my fast since morning. "

"You will find some cold meat and a loaf of bread in the cupboard. Itis plain, but if you are hungry you will enjoy it. "

"Thank you, sir. I will accept your kind invitation. "

Tom Burns was really hungry, and he did justice to the food offeredhim. 

When his lunch was over he came outside. 

"Thank you, " he said, "for your kindness. I am sure you will berewarded. "

"I don't want any reward. Out here we are always glad to give a mealof victuals to a stranger who needs it. Are you going to stay long inOreville?"

"If I can get anything to do I may. You see I am a poor man, and standin pressing need of employment. "

"Keep up your courage! Something will turn up for you. I will ask myson if he cannot find something for you to do. "

"Thank you, sir. I will bid you good-by, with thanks for yourkindness. "

"If you are not pressed for time, I will send you on an errand. "

"All right, sir. I shall be glad to be of service to you. "

"Here is a Mexican dollar. You may go to the store and bring me adozen eggs. If there is any change you may keep it. "

"Thank you, sir. "

"A dollar in!" thought Burns, as he turned away from the cabin. "Ithink I can turn it to a better use than spending it in eggs. That wasa profitable call. I made a gold watch and a dollar by it. The old mancan't pursue me, that's one comfort, thanks to his spinal complaint. "

"That is a very clever fellow, " reflected the old man when Burns hadstarted on his errand. "A bit too religious to suit my taste. Still heseemed grateful for the little I did for him. If he had a little morepush and get-up-and-get about him he would succeed better. Why, heisn't more than forty, and he confesses himself a failure. Why, atforty I considered myself a young man, and was full of dash andenterprise. Now I am sixty and tied to my seat by this spinal trouble. However, I've got something laid by, and, old as I am, I feelindependent, as far as money goes. "

Half an hour--an hour--passed, and still the old man found himselfalone. His messenger had not come back. 

But there came up the path a tall, muscular figure, who greeted theold man in a bluff, off hand way. 

"How are you, Luke?" said the old man. "I was feeling lonely. I amglad to see you. "

"Have you been alone since morning?"

"Not quite all the time. I had quite a long call from a stranger. "

"A stranger!" repeated Luke, suspiciously. 

"What was his appearance?"

The old man described Burns, and Luke knew him at once. 

"What did he say to you?"

"That reminds me--he said he knew the boy whom Horace has put in thestore--young Ray. "

"Did he?"

"Yes, and he doesn't speak well of him. "

"What does he say about him?"

"I don't like to tell you, Luke, for I believe he is a protege ofyours. "

"Don't mind that. If there is anything to be said unfavorable ofErnest I ought to know it. "

"He says the boy robbed a store in which he was employed, and thenpretended it was entered by thieves. It was on that account, he says, that the boy was compelled to leave the town where he lived and cometo California. "

"Really, that is very interesting. To my own personal knowledge theboy was never before employed in a store, and he came out toCalifornia with me. "

"Then what could the man mean?"

"I can't say. I can only tell you that he is a professional thief. "

"Look quick, Luke, and see if my gold watch is hanging on a nail nearthe cupboard. "

"No, it is not there. "

"Then the rascal must have stolen it. I gave him, besides, a Mexicandollar to buy some eggs at the store. "

"I don't think you will ever see it again, unless I catch the thief, as I may to-night. "

CHAPTER XXX. 

A BURGLAR'S FAILURE. 

If Tom Burns had been more prudent he would have made good his escapewith the money and gold watch he had already secured. But he was toogreedy for gain. 

He pictured to himself the store with its goodly stock of money takenin during the day, and he felt an irresistible craving for it. Theremight be one or two hundred dollars, and no one in charge but a boywhom he could easily overpower. 

Apart from the pecuniary gain he felt that he should enjoy getting thebest of Ernest, who had already foiled him at Oak Forks. 

"This time he will come out second best, " chuckled Burns to himself. 

Then he laughed when he remembered how his appearance had puzzledErnest. 

"It was a good idea, growin' a beard, " he said to himself. "Seems tohave disguised me pretty well. The boy thought he had seen me before, but he couldn't make out where. The next time he'll know me, I reckon. 

"I must keep out of the way till night, " he said to himself. "It won'tdo for me to be seen prowlin' round the settlement. "

He retired a mile or two among the hills, and waited impatiently fornight to come. 

"It is lucky that the old man gave me a meal, " he reflected, "otherwise I should be about starved. I wonder if that watch is worthmuch. "

He examined the watch, and decided that its value was probably not farfrom a hundred dollars. In fact the old man had bought it in St. Louis, and had selected a high-priced article. 

It did occur to Burns that perhaps he had better remain satisfied withwhat he had got, for the watch would probably bring him fifty dollarsat a sacrifice sale; but the temptation to stay was too strong. 

"It would be a sin to give up such a fine chance, " he reflected. "There's next to no risk, and I may get two hundred dollars. "

Then he began to consider what he would do in that case. He decidedthat he would go to San Francisco, and see what pickings he could findthere. 

He had already found out that mining men and others in the far Westwere more careless about their money than those in the East, probablybecause money came easier. 

"I did well when I came out here, " he said to himself in a tone ofcongratulation. "I'll make hay while the sun shines. "

Meanwhile, though he did not know it, his visit was expected, andpreparations were being made to receive him. 

After supper Luke Robbins came to the store, and held a conferencewith Ernest. 

"I am going to pass the night with you, lad, " he said. 

"I wish you would, Luke. "

"I want to help you do the honors to my old friend Burns. "

"Perhaps he won't call. "

"If he knows what's best for himself he won't, but he will be like thefoolish moth, and won't be contented till he has singed his wings. I willlook about me and see where to bestow myself for the night. "

Ernest occupied a bed in the rear of the store, just behind one of thecounters. It was near a window in the rear of the building. 

"I'll take that bed, Ernest, and you can find another place. "

"Shall I fasten the window?"

"No. I am going to make it easy for my friend Burns to get in. Whetherhe will find it as easy to get out will be another matter. "

Nothing was said to the miners about the presence of a thief in thesettlement. At that time there was no toleration for thieves. Thepunishment visited upon them was short, sharp, and decisive. The judgemost in favor was Judge Lynch, and woe be to the offender who venturedto interfere with the rights of property. 

Had Luke breathed a word about Burns, half a dozen miners would havevolunteered to stand guard, and would thus have interfered with TomBurns' visit. 

"I want to keep all the fun to myself, Ernest, " said Luke. "We'll givehim a lesson he won't soon forget. If I told the boys, they'd hang himup in short order. I don't want to take the fellow's life, but I'llgive him a first-class scare. "

It was about ten minutes of twelve when Tom Burns, leaving his placeof concealment, walked with eager steps towards the mining settlement. The one street was not illuminated, for Oreville had not got along asfar as that. The moon gave an indistinct light, relieving the night ofa part of its gloom. 

Burns looked from one cabin to another with a wistful glance. 

"I suppose some of these miners have got a lot of gold dust hiddenaway in their shanties, " he said to himself. "I wish I knew where Icould light on some of their treasure. If I only knew which cabin tochoose!"

But then it occurred to him that every miner was probably armed, andwould make it dangerous to any intruder. 

So Tom Burns kept on his way. He was troubled by no conscientiousscruples. He had got beyond that long ago. Sometimes it did occur tohim to wonder how it would seem to settle down as a man ofrespectability and influence, taking a prominent part in the affairsof town and church. 

"It might have been, " he muttered. "My father was a man of that sort. Why not I? If I hadn't gone wrong in my early days, if I had not beentempted of the devil to rob the storekeeper for whom I worked, and somade myself an outcast and a pariah, who knows but I might have beenat this moment Thomas Burns, Esq. , of some municipality, instead ofTom Burns the tramp. However, it is foolish to speculate about this. Iam what I am, and there is little chance of my being anything else. "

So he dismissed the past, and recalled the work he had set forhimself. Everything was still. In the mining village probably therewas not a person awake. It was like a dead town. Everything seemedfavorable to his designs. 

There was the store. He could see it already. And now there wasnothing to do but to get in and take the money, which he had no doubtwas waiting ready to his hand. 

Perhaps he might be fortunate enough to secure it without waking theboy. He hoped so, at any rate, for he was not a desperate or cruelman. He did not wish to injure Ernest unless it should be absolutelynecessary. If he could get along without it, so much the better. 

Arriving at his destination, he paused to reconsider. 

He did not expect to enter by the front door. He did not as yet knowwhether there was any other. But at any rate there must be a windowsomewhere, and he preferred to get in that way. 

He walked around to the rear of the store, and there he discovered thewindow. He had been afraid it might be blockaded with shelves, whichwould make entrance difficult, but fortunately this did not appear tobe the case. He stood at the window and looked in. 

[Illustration: "He stood at the window and looked in. "]

The faint moonlight did not enable him to penetrate the interior veryfar, but he could make out something. There were goods of variouskinds scattered about, and he could just see a recumbent figure on abed near the counter. 

"That's the boy, " he said to himself. "I wonder if he is asleep. "

There did not seem to be any doubt on this point. 

But for the indistinct light, Tom Burns might have thought theoutstretched figure rather large for a boy. But he only glanced at itfurtively. 

The next thing to consider was whether the window was fastened. Inthat case he would have some difficulty, though for this he wasprepared, having an instrument with which he could cut a pane ofglass, and, thrusting in his hand, unfasten the catch. 

But through some strange inadvertence, apparently, the window was notlocked, and much to his relief he had no difficulty in lifting it. Inthis way he made his entrance into the store. 

He was as careful as possible, fearing lest he might stumble over somearticle, and by the noise betray his presence. 

What if there was a dog inside? This thought brought alarm to theburglar. In that case his visit would probably be a failure. Heremembered, however, with a feeling of relief, that he had seen no dogabout during his visit to the store. 

Now that he had passed through the window, and was fairly in thestore, he looked round for the money-drawer. He had not seen the safe, or probably he might not have entered the store at all, for he was notexpert in breaking open safes, and at any rate it would be a matter oftime and difficulty. So he was looking about, when, as he passed bythe bed, he felt himself seized by the leg. Evidently the sleeper hadawakened and discovered his presence. 

Burns got down on his knees and grasped the recumbent by the throat. 

"Lie still, or I'll choke you!" he said, fiercely. 

But as he spoke he felt the rough beard of a man, and with dismay herealized that he had tackled a more formidable foe than the boy forwhom he was prepared. 

He then felt himself seized with an iron grasp. 

[Illustration: "HE STOOD AT THE WINDOW AND LOOKED IN. "]

"I've got you, you rascally burglar!" were the words he heard, and gavehimself up for lost. 

"Who are you?" he asked faintly. 

"I am Luke Robbins, and I know you of old. You are Tom Burns!"

CHAPTER XXXI. 

THE ADVERTISEMENT. 

If there was any one of whom Tom Burns stood in fear it was LukeRobbins. When he found himself in the grasp of his dreaded enemy hegrew weak with terror. 

It was no longer a question of successful robbery. It was a matter ofpersonal safety. 

"Well, what have you to say for yourself?" demanded Luke, tighteninghis grasp. 

"Have mercy on me, Mr. Robbins! Don't kill me!" ejaculated Burns, halfchoked. 

"What did you come here for?"

"I--I had no money, and--"

"You thought you could get some here. That is the explanation. "

"Ye-es, " faltered Burns. 

"You thought you would be more than a match for the boy. Well, youhave no boy to deal with. "

"I know that very well, " confessed Burns. 

"How long have you been in Oreville?"

"I only came this morning. "

"You have improved your time, " said Luke, dryly. "You have stolen agold watch, besides making this attempt at robbery. "

Tom Burns could not deny it, though he was surprised at Luke'sknowledge. He did not reply. 

"Hand over that watch!" said Luke, in a tone of authority. 

"Will you let me go if I do?"

"I will make no conditions with you. Hand over that watch!"

Burns drew it from his inside pocket and handed it over. 

"Humph! So far so good. Now how about that dollar you took to buyeggs?"

"It is the only money I have, except a few pennies. Please let me keepit. "

"If I tell the miners what you have done you won't need any moremoney, " said Luke, grimly. 

"Why not?" asked Burns, trembling. 

"Why not?" repeated Luke. "Because they will hang you to the nearesttree. You won't need to trouble about money matters after that. "

"You won't give me up, Mr. Robbins, " pleaded Burns in an agony ofterror. "I--I am not fit to die. Besides, I am a young man. I am notyet forty. I will turn over a new leaf. I will, truly. "

"It's high time you did. It is a long time since you earned an honestliving. "

"I know it, Mr. Robbins. I have been a bad man, but it is not too lateto reform. If you'll let me go I will leave Oreville to-night, and Iwill never trouble you again. "

"It isn't me you have troubled. It is the boy. You robbed him, ortried to do it, at Oak Forks, and now you have turned up here. "

"I didn't know he was here. Truly I didn't. "

"You didn't know I was here, or I think you would have given the placea wide berth. "

"I am very sorry for what I did, and if you'll only spare my life I'llpromise to reform. "

"I haven't much faith in your promises, but I'll leave it to the boy. Ernest, what shall I do with this man?"

Ernest had come forward, and was standing but a few feet from Luke andhis captive. 

"If he promises to reform, " said Ernest, "you'd better give himanother chance, Luke. "

"I am not sure that I ought to, but it is you to whom he has done themost harm. If you give him over to the miners we shall never betroubled by him again. "

Tom Burns turned pale, for he knew that life and death were in thebalance, and that those two--Luke and the boy--were to decide hisfate. 

Ernest could not help pitying the trembling wretch. He was naturallykind hearted, and at that moment he felt that he could forgive Burnsall that he had done. 

"Since you have left it to me, Luke, " he said, "let him go. "

"It shall be as you say, Ernest. "

As he spoke he released his hold, and Tom Burns stood erect. Hebreathed a deep sigh of relief. 

"May I go?" he asked submissively. 

"Yes. "

Before leaving he turned to Ernest. 

"You are a good-hearted boy, " he said, "and I shall not forget thatyou have saved my life. If I am ever able to do anything for you, Iwill do it. You will find that Tom Burns, bad as he has been, knowshow to be grateful. "

"I think you mean what you say, " returned Ernest. "I hope you willkeep your promise and will turn over a new leaf. Is it true that youare penniless?"

"Not quite. This is all I have. "

Burns drew from his pocket a handful of small change--less than adollar in all--and held it out for inspection. 

"Then I will help you along. "

Ernest took from his pocket a five-dollar gold piece, and offered itto the tramp. 

"That is more than I would do for him, " said Luke. 

"It is more than I deserve, " replied Burns, "but you won't be sorryfor your kindness. If ever you see me again, I shall be a differentman. "

He passed out of the window, and they saw him no more. 

Luke and Ernest said very little of their night's adventure, but thegold watch and the Mexican dollar were returned to the man from whomthey had been taken. 

Six months passed. Oreville had doubled its population, the mines hadyielded a large sum in gold dust, and the store presided over byErnest was considerably enlarged. 

His services had been so satisfactory that Horace Ames, whose time wastaken up elsewhere, had raised his share of the profits to one half. 

At the end of six months, besides defraying his expenses, Ernest foundhimself possessed of a thousand dollars. 

"Luke, I feel rich, " said he, when his faithful friend came round fora chat. 

"You've done better than I have, " rejoined Luke. "The most I have beenable to scrape together is four hundred dollars. "

"I will give you a part of my money, so that we may be even. "

"No, you won t, Ernest. What do you take me for? I should be ashamedto touch any of your hard earnings. "

"They are not hard earnings, Luke. Mr. Ames has been very liberal, andthat is why I have got so much. I don't feel that I ought to have somuch more than you. "

"Don't bother about me, lad; I feel rich with four hundred dollars. Inever was worth so much before, though I'm almost three times yourage. And I wouldn't have that but for you. "

"How do you make that out, Luke?"

"Because I never had any ambition till I met you. I never thought ofsaving money; as long as I got enough to eat I cared for nothing else. I should have died without enough to bury me if you had not set me theexample of putting something by for a rainy day. "

"I am glad if I have done you any good, Luke, for you have been a kindfriend to me. "

A. Week later Luke came into the store holding a letter in his hand. 

"Here is a letter for you, Ernest, " he said. "I was passing thepost-office just now when I was hailed by the postmaster, who asked meif I would take the letter to you. I didn't know that you had anycorrespondents. "

"Nor I, Luke. I think it is the first letter I ever received. Whom canit be from?"

"From some one who knows you are here. It is postmarked St. Louis. "

"Well, I can easily discover who wrote it, " said Ernest, as he cutopen the envelope with his penknife. 

He turned at once to the signature, and exclaimed, in great surprise, "Why, it's from Tom Burns. "

"The man who tried to rob the store?"

"Yes. "

"He has probably written to ask you for some money. "

"No, Luke, you are mistaken. I will read it to you. "

The letter started thus:

ERNEST RAY:

You will probably be surprised to hear from me. Let me begin by sayingthat I have kept the promise I made to you and Mr. Robbins when youlet me off six months ago. I have turned over a new leaf, and havebeen strictly honest ever since, as I promised you I would be. 

I won't trouble you with an account of my struggles to get along. Iwill only say that I am employed at present as a waiter at thePlanters Hotel, and though I can't save up much money, I am able tolive comfortable. But you will wonder why I am writing to you. It isbecause I have seen your name mentioned in an advertisement in one ofthe St. Louis daily papers. I inclose the advertisement, and hope itis something to your advantage. I have taken the liberty to write toMr. Bolton, telling him where you were six months since, and now Iwrite to you so that you may communicate with him also. 

Yours respectfully, TOM BURNS. 

The advertisement appended ran thus:

INFORMATION WANTED. --Should this meet the eye of Ernest Ray, some timeresiding at Oak Forks, Iowa, he is requested to communicate withBenjamin Bolton, Attorney-at-Law, 182 Nassau Street, New York City. 

CHAPTER XXXII. 

MR. BOLTON AS A HUSTLER. 

When Benjamin Bolton left the house of Stephen Ray with a hundreddollars in his pocket, it was with the clearly-defined purpose in hismind to find the boy who had been so grossly wronged, and force thepresent holder of the Ray estate to make restitution. But he was notyet in a position to move in the matter. 

Only a few hours previous he had been nearly penniless. Even now, though he was provided with a sum of money that made him feelcomparatively rich, he knew that it would not last very long. Clearlyhe must obtain employment. 

He provided himself with a respectable suit of clothing, and took thenext train for New York. He had been in the metropolis two or threetimes in the course of his life, but he knew no one there. He mustpush his own way without help. 

While other paths might be open to him, for he was a man of educationand worldly experience, he felt that he should like to get back intohis own profession. He flattered himself that if properly started hecould make himself valuable to an established attorney in the way ofhunting up cases, and taking part in any description of legal workthat might be intrusted to him. 

But how could he, a man altogether unknown, recommend himself to anylawyer whose standing and business would make a connection with himdesirable? Perhaps in any other business there would be lessdifficulty in making a start. 

But Mr. Bolton was resolute and determined, and fortune favored him. 

Within thirty miles of the city a stout gentleman of perhaps fiftyentered the car and sat down beside him. He looked like a well-to-dobusiness man, prosperous and free from care, but for the anxiousexpression on his face. He appeared like a man in trouble who stood inneed of advice. 

The train had gone several miles before he made up his mind to confidein the quiet-looking man who sat beside him. He had already takenstock of Bolton in several furtive glances before he decided to speakof the matter that troubled him. 

"There is something on his mind, " thought Bolton. "He looks as if hewished to speak to some one. "

He addressed a casual remark to his companion, who instantlyresponded. 

"I don't like to trouble you, " he said, "but I am somewhat perplexed. "

"My dear sir, if in any way I can help you I shall be glad to do so, "answered Bolton. "I am a lawyer--"

"Are you?" said the other eagerly. "I want to meet a good, honest, and_smart_ lawyer, who will undertake a case for me. "

Bolton pricked up his ears. This seemed to be a providentialopportunity of which he resolved to avail himself. 

"I should not like to praise myself, " he said modestly, "but I thinkyou would find me faithful to your interests. "

"No doubt of it, sir. Are you a New York lawyer?"

"I am about to connect myself with a law firm in the city, " answeredBolton, heartily hoping that this statement might prove accurate. 

"Then you will be able to help me. "

"State your case, if you don't mind. " Bolton took out a smallmemorandum book, and, pencil in hand, sat ready to take down theimportant points. 

"You must know, sir, that twenty years ago my father died, leaving anestate of fifty thousand dollars. It was divided equally between mysister Martha and myself. I married, and Martha, for the last twentyyears, has been a member of my family. Being a spinster, with onlyherself to provide for, her property has doubled, while I, havingseveral children, have barely held my own. Of course I expected thatmy children and my self would inherit Martha's money when she died. "

"Very natural, sir, and very just. "

"Well, Martha died last August. Imagine my dismay when her will wasopened and proved to bequeath her entire estate to various charitiesin which she never took any particular interest when living. "

"Do you suspect any one of influencing her to this disposition of herproperty?"

"Yes, she had had various conversations with a collector for thesesocieties, who resided in the town during the summer, and who soughtan introduction when he learned that she was a lady of independentfortune. He called frequently, and flattered up my poor sister, who, between ourselves, had lately shown signs of mental weakness. "

"Did she cut off your family entirely in her will?"

"Yes; she didn't leave even a dollar to any one of my children, thoughone of my daughters was named for her. "

"Was the collector entitled to a commission on sums secured for thesocieties which he rep resented?"

"Yes, that is the cause of his zeal. He would make a very handsomepercentage on an estate as large as my sister's. "

"But for him would she have been likely to cut off her relatives?"

"No; we should probably have received every dollar. "

"Do you think the collector cherished any matrimonial designs withreference to your sister?"

"I did think so at one time, but Martha's condition as an invalid ledher to discourage his attentions, though she was evidently flatteredby them. "

"Of course you wish to break the will?"

"Yes. Do you think it can be done?"

"Upon the basis of what you have told me I should think the chanceswere greatly in your favor. "

His companion brightened up very perceptibly at this assurance. 

"Have you ever been employed in any similar cases?" he asked. 

"My dear sir, I have an important case of the kind on my hands at thismoment. The amount involved is a quarter of a million dollars. "

Mr. Bolton rose greatly in the estimation of his new client after hehad made this statement. 

"Is the case at all similar?"

"Hardly. It is the case of a will concealed, or rather suppressed, andacting upon a will previously made. I cannot go into details forobvious reasons, as I wish to keep our enemy in the dark. "

"I understand. Have you your card with you, so that I can call at youroffice?"

This was a puzzling question for Bolton, but he was equal to theoccasion. 

"Tell me what hotel you propose to stop at, and I will call upon youat eleven o'clock to-morrow morning. "

"I don't know much about the New York hotels. "

"Then let me recommend a house, " naming a comfortable but notexpensive hostelry on upper Broadway. 

"I will go there. "

"I think you have not yet mentioned your name. "

"My name is Ephraim Paulding. "

Bolton noted it down in his memorandum-book, and soon after the trainran into the station at Forty-second Street. 

There was no time to be lost. Bolton made inquiries and obtained thename of a successful, go-ahead lawyer, having an office at 182 NassauStreet. He did not wait till the next day, but made a call that sameevening at his house on Lexington Avenue. 

Mr. Norcross, the lawyer, entered the parlor with Bolton's card in hishand and a puzzled expression on his face. 

"Have I ever met you before, Mr. Bolton?" he asked. 

"No, sir. "

"Please state your business. "

"I should like to enter your office. I am a lawyer with fifteen yearsexperience. "

"I should hardly think so, considering the strange, and I may sayunprecedented, proposal you are making. "

"I am quite aware that it seems so, but I can make it worth yourwhile. "

"How?"

"By bringing you business. I can put in your hands now a will caseinvolving an estate of fifty thousand dollars, and further on probablya much more important case. "

"You seem to be a hustler. "

"I am. "

"Where has your professional life been spent?" asked Norcross. 

"At Elmira. Now I wish to remove to this city. It will give me alarger and more profitable field. "

"Give me some idea of the case you say you can put in my hands. "

Bolton did so. His terse and crisp statement--for he was really a manof ability--interested the lawyer, and disposed him favorably towardthe matter. 

The result of the interview was that he engaged Bolton at a smallsalary and a commission on business brought to the office for a periodof three months. 

"Thank you, " said Bolton, as he rose to go. "You will not regret thisstep. "

The next morning Bolton brought his rail road acquaintance to theoffice, and Mr. Norcross formally undertook his case. 

"I think we shall win, " he said. "It is an aggravated case of undueinfluence. Mr. Bolton will from time to time communicate to you thesteps we have taken. "

It is unnecessary to go into details. It is enough to say that thewill was broken, and a goodly sum found its way to the coffers oflawyer Norcross. 

By this time Benjamin Bolton had established himself in the favor ofhis employer, who, at the end of three months, made a new and muchmore advantageous arrangement. Bolton had not as yet taken any stepsin Ernest's case, but he now felt that the time had come to do so. Hewrote to the postmaster at Oak Forks, inquiring if he knew a boy namedErnest Ray, but learned, in reply, that Ernest had left the place somemonths before, and had not since been heard from. 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

THE RESULT OF AN ADVERTISEMENT. 

The advertisement for Ernest in a St. Louis daily paper came about inthis way:

Bolton was in the habit of inquiring from time to time, of Westernclients, if they were acquainted with any persons bearing the name ofRay. One gentleman, who frequently visited St. Louis, answered, "Yes, I know a boy named Ray. "

"Tell me all you know about him, " said Bolton, eagerly. 

"I was staying at the Southern Hotel last winter, " answered Mr. Windham, "when my attention was called to a bright-looking newsboywho sold the evening newspapers outside. I was so attracted by himthat I inquired his name. He said it was Ray, and that he was alone inthe world. "

"What was his first name?"

"I can't recall. I am not sure that I heard it. "

"Was it Ernest?"

"Very possibly. But, as I said before, I cannot speak with anycertainty. "

"How old did the boy appear to be?"

"About sixteen. "

"That would have been the age of Dudley Ray's son, " said Bolton tohimself. 

"I suppose you didn't learn where the boy lived?"

"No. "

This was all the information Mr. Windham was able to impart, butBolton felt that it was possibly of importance. It was, in fact, thefirst clue he had been able to obtain. 

That Dudley Ray's son should be forced by dire necessity to sellnewspapers was not in the least improbable. He went to an advertisingagency, and inserted the advertisement already mentioned. 

A few days later he received two letters post-marked St. Louis. 

He opened them with a thrill of excitement. 

He felt that he was on the verge of making an important discovery. 

One letter was addressed in a school-boy hand, and ran thus:

DEAR SIR:

I saw your advertisement in one of the morning papers. I hope it meansme. My name is not Ernest, but it may have been changed by some peoplewith whom I lived in Nebraska. I am sixteen years old, and am a poorboy obliged to earn my living by selling papers. My father died when Iwas a baby, and my mother three years later. So I am alone in theworld, and I am having a hard time. I suppose you wouldn't advertisefor me unless you had some good news for me. You may send your answerto this letter to the Southern Hotel. The clerk is a friend of mine, and he says he will save it for me. 

Yours respectfully, ARTHUR RAY. 

"That isn't the boy, " said Bolton, laying down the letter indisappointment. "The name is different, and, besides, the writer saysthat his father died when he was a baby. Of course that settles thequestion. He is a different boy. "

He opened the second letter, hoping that it might be moresatisfactory. 

It was the letter of Tom Burns, setting forth his meeting Ernest atOak Forks, and afterwards running across him at Oreville inCalifornia. 

"Eureka!" exclaimed Bolton, his face beaming with exultation. "This isthe boy and no mistake. I will at once answer this letter, and alsowrite to Ernest Ray in California. "

This was the letter received by Burns:

DEAR SIR:

I am very much indebted to you for the information contained in yourletter of two days since. I have reason to think that the boy youmention is the one of whom I am in search. If it proves to be so, I amfree to tell you that he will be much benefited by your communication. There is a considerable estate, now wrongfully held by another, towhich he is entitled. Should things turn out as I hope and expect, Iwill see that you lose nothing by the service you have rendered himand myself. I will write to him by this mail. Should you change youraddress, please notify me. 

Yours truly, BENJAMIN BOLTON, 182 Nassau Street, New York. 

The letter written to Ernest ran thus:

ERNEST RAY, OREVILLE, CALIFORNIA:

I have for some time been seeking to find you. Finally, in response toan advertisement inserted in a St. Louis daily paper, I learn that youare at present living in Oreville, California. This information wasgiven me by one Thomas Burns, who is employed at the Planters Hotel. The name is, I hope, familiar to you. It is very desirable that Ishould have an interview with you. If you are the son of Dudley Ray, formerly residing at or near Elmira, what I have to say will begreatly to your advantage. 

Will you write me at once, letting me know whether this is the case?Also, state your present circumstances, and whether you need pecuniaryhelp. It is unfortunate that we are so far apart. I am connected witha New York legal firm, and can not very well go to California, but Imight assist you to come to New York if, as I suppose, your means arelimited. Will you write to me at once whether this is the case? Ishall anxiously await your reply. 

BENJAMIN BOLTON, Attorney-at-law, 182 Nassau Street, New York City. 

Ernest read this letter with eager interest, and showed it to LukeRobbins. 

"What do you think of it, Luke?" he asked. 

"What do I think of it? It looks very much as if you were entitled tosome money. "

"What shall I do?"

"Write this Mr. Bolton that you will go at once to New York, and callupon him. "

"But how about the store? I should not like to leave Mr. Ames in thelurch. "

"I will take your place here, and in order to qualify myself for it, Iwill come in to morrow and begin to serve an apprenticeship. "

Ernest wrote to Bolton that he would start for New York in a week. Headded that he had the money necessary for the journey. He said alsothat he was the son of Dudley Ray, and that he remembered visitingElmira with his father. 

When Bolton received this letter he exclaimed, triumphantly, "Now, Stephen Ray, I have you on the hip. You looked down upon me when Icalled upon you. In your pride and your unjust possession of wealthyou thought me beneath your notice. Unless I am greatly mistaken, Ishall be the instrument under Providence of taking from you yourill-gotten gains, and carrying out the wishes expressed in the lastwill of your deceased uncle. "

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

A STRANGE MEETING. 

Ernest left Oreville with four hundred dollars in his pocket. Thebalance of his money he left in the hands of his friend Horace Ames, upon whom he was authorized to draw if he should have need. 

"I don't intend to carry all my money with me, " he said to LukeRobbins. "I might lose it. "

"Even if you did, Ernest, you could draw on me. If you need it, do sowithout any hesitation. "

"You are a good friend, Luke, " said Ernest warmly. "What should I dowithout you?"

"I am beginning to wonder what I shall do without you, Ernest. Suppose, now, this lawyer puts a fortune in your hands?"

"If he does, Luke, I am sure to need your help in some way. I will seethat we are not separated. "

"Thank you, Ernest. I know you mean what you say. You may find abetter friend, but you won't find one that is more ready to serve youthan Luke Robbins. "

"I am sure of that, Luke, " said Ernest with a bright smile, as hepressed the rough hand of his faithful friend. 

Ernest did not loiter on his way, though he was tempted to stop inChicago, but he reflected that he would have plenty of chances tovisit that bustling city after his business had been attended to. 

As he approached Buffalo on the train his attention was attracted totwo persons sitting in front of him. They were a father and son, as hegathered from the conversation. 

The son was about his own age and size, apparently, but rather moreslender in figure. He had a peevish expression, and Ernest doubtedwhether he would like him. 

"Father, " Ernest heard him say, "won't you give me a little money? Iam dead broke. "

The father frowned. 

"I gave you five dollars when we set out on this journey, " he said. 

"Well, five dollars won't last forever, " was the pert rejoinder. 

"It ought to last more than four days, Clarence. "

Ernest started. He knew that his cousin's name was Clarence. Couldthis be Stephen Ray and his son?

Even if it were so, he felt that it would not be advisable to makehimself known. This business which was carrying him to New York mightbring him into conflict with Stephen Ray. If so, he would not care tolet his presence be known. 

On arriving at Buffalo Ernest left the train. He had never visitedNiagara, and being now so near, he felt that he could not forego theopportunity. 

He registered at the Tefft House, and decided to remain twenty-fourhours. This would give him time to see the Falls. 

Ernest had a room assigned him, and went up to it at once in order tohave the luxury of a good wash. 

Five minutes afterwards, Stephen Ray and his son Clarence entered thehotel. 

Mr. Ray, in a pompous manner, went up to the desk and said to theclerk, "Can you give me a good room?"

"Yes, sir. "

"I want a front room, if you have it. "

"I can't give you a front room, but I can give you a good side room. "

Stephen Ray grumbled a little, but finally decided to take the roomoffered him. He saw that his haughty manner did not impress the clerk, who was accustomed to men of his class. 

Clarence looked over his father's shoulder as he registered. 

"Why, pa, " he exclaimed in surprise, "there's another guest of ourname. "

"Where?" asked his father. 

"There, three names above your signature. "

Stephen Ray looked at the register, and started violently as he readthe entry:

ERNEST RAY, Oreville, California. 

"What's the matter, pa?" asked Clarence, noticing his father'sagitation. 

"Oh, nothing, nothing, " answered his father, with an effort. 

"Haven't we a cousin named Ernest Ray?"

"We had, but he is dead. "

"It is strange that there should be another person of the name. "

"Not at all. The world is large, and there are probably a good manypersons of one name. "

"This one is from California. "

"So I see. By the way, " here Mr. Ray addressed the clerk, "did youobserve the person who registered under the name of Ray?"

"Yes. It is a boy about the size of this young gentleman. "

"It is strange!" said Clarence. "It may be our cousin. "

"Didn't I tell you that the person you refer to is dead?" said hisfather, testily. 

"I don't believe it, " thought Clarence, but he did not express hisunbelief. He determined, however, to have an interview with the boy, and find out for himself all about him. 

He saw Ernest at the table soon after, and so did Stephen Ray. Thelatter noted with alarm the resemblance of the boy to his cousinDudley Ray, whose estate he had usurped. 

"I hope Bolton won't get hold of him. " he said to himself. "It wouldbe bad for me. "

After supper Mr. Ray went out, leaving Clarence to himself. 

He improved the opportunity. Seeing Ernest sitting alone, he went upto him. 

"Is your name Ray?" he asked. 

"Yes, Ernest Ray. "

"My name is Clarence Ray. "

"So I thought. We are cousins. "

"That's what I told pa, but he said it was not so--that Ernest Ray wasdead. "

"Your father's name is Stephen Ray?"

"Yes. "

"I have known of him and you since I was old enough to rememberanything. "

"Then you are really my cousin Ernest?"

"Yes. "

"I wonder why pa said you were dead. I will tell pa he is mistaken. "

"No, Clarence, I would rather you wouldn't. There are reasons why itis better not to say anything about it. "

"All right. Are you well off?"

Ernest smiled. 

"I am not rich, " he said, "but I am comfortably fixed. "

"Do you live in California?"

"I have lived there for the last few months. "

"Why did you come East?"

"On a little business. "

"I am glad you are well off. I think pa was afraid you were a poorrelation. "

"Your father is rich?"

"Yes, ever so rich. We've got a fine place near Elmira. If pa wasn'tso cranky I would invite you there to visit me. "

"Thank you all the same, " said Ernest, smiling. 

Later in the evening, when Stephen Ray came in, Ernest noticed that helooked at him critically. He, too, examined the man who, he had reasonto believe, was enjoying the estates that should be his, and was notattracted towards him. 

"What will he say, " thought Ernest, "when I make a formal demand forthe property?"

"What in the name of all that's unlucky can have brought that boy hereat this time?" Stephen Ray was saying to himself. 

He never for an instant doubted Ernest's identity--in fact, he couldnot well have done so, for he bore a strong resemblance to Dudley Ray, who had been a strikingly handsome man, very much the superior ofStephen in personal attractions. 

Stephen Ray's curiosity was excited. Ernest did not appear like theaverage poor relation. He was quite as well dressed as Clarence. Besides, he had registered at a high-priced hotel, and this aloneshowed that he was not cramped for means. 

This gave him some satisfaction, as it made it less likely that hewould appeal to him for assistance. 

Stephen Ray was rather surprised that Clarence made no furtherreference to Ernest. Had he known that the two had had a conversationhe would have been seriously disturbed. He only hoped that Boltonwould not get hold of the boy. 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

MR. BOLTON AND HIS CLIENT. 

Benjamin Bolton sat at his desk in the law office of Albert Norcross, on Nassau Street. He was well, even handsomely dressed, and lookedvery unlike the shabby tramp who had called months before at the houseof Stephen Ray. 

He was really a man of ability, and this his employer had found out. He had raised Bolton's salary to a liberal figure, and felt that insecuring his services he had made a real acquisition. 

Bolton was absorbed in preparation for a case which had been assignedto him, when a boy came to his desk with a card. 

Bolton no sooner read the name, "Ernest Ray, " than he became eager andexcited. 

"Tell him to come in, " he said. 

Ernest, quiet and self-possessed, entered the office and approachedthe lawyer's desk. 

"Are you Mr. Bolton?" he asked

"Yes, and you--"

"I am Ernest Ray. "

Benjamin Bolton looked keenly at the boy, admiring his handsome faceand manly bearing. 

"I see your father's looks in you, " he said. 

"Then you knew my father?" said Ernest, eagerly. 

"Yes. We were young men together. "

"I am glad to meet you then. "

"You come from California?"

"Yes. "

"I judge from your appearance that you have not suffered frompoverty. "

"I have been fortunate at Oreville. At Oak Forks I lived very humblywith Peter Brant, an old servant of my father. "

"Yes, I remember Peter. Is he alive still?"

"No, he died a little less than a year since. Till his death I thoughthim my uncle, and knew no other relatives. Before he died he told mewho I was. "

"How did he live?"

"On a small sum left by my father. When he died it was all exhaustedexcept a hundred dollars. I took that and went to California with aman named Luke Robbins, who has proved my faithful friend. "

"What were you doing in California? Were you working at the mines?"

"No. I was keeping a store where I sold miners supplies. "

"Did it pay you well?"

"I was very well paid for a boy. When I left Oreville I was worth athousand dollars. "

"That is well, but it is only a drop in the bucket compared with thefortune you are entitled to. "

"Now held by Mr. Stephen Ray?"

"Yes; he will be surprised to see you here in the East. "

"He has seen me, " said Ernest, quickly. 

"What!" exclaimed the lawyer. "You have not called upon him?"

"No. I met him on the train and afterwards at a Buffalo hotel. Mycousin Clarence was with him. "

"Did you have any conference with them?"

"I talked with Clarence, not with his father. "

"Did you think the father knew you?"

"Yes, but he did not speak to me. "

"He told me when I called upon him some time ago that you weredead--that you had died in Georgia. "

"What could have been his object?"

"He did not wish me to find you, for I had the proof that the estatewas rightfully yours. "

"What led you to think I was alive?"

"I cross-examined Clarence, who did not know his father's desire tokeep us apart. "

"Is the estate a large one?"

"Quarter of a million, at least. "

Ernest's eyes opened wide with amazement. 

"But I will introduce you to Mr. Norcross, my principal, and we willtalk over our plan of operations. You must assert your rights, anddemand that your grandfather's will be carried out. Are you content toplace yourself in our hands?"

"Entirely so. But I am sorry for Cousin Stephen. It will be a greatblow to him. "

"Don't waste any pity upon him. He defrauded your father, and meant todefraud you. "

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

AN IMPORTANT INTERVIEW. 

"A gentleman to see you, sir. " This was the message brought to StephenRay by the servant one morning. 

"Did he give his name?"

"No, sir. "

"Very well; bring him up. "

Mr. Ray was sitting at the desk in his library. He was looking oversome plans for the improvement of his already handsome residence. 

He proposed to enlarge a lower room by a bay-window, and to carry thepiazza round on each side. It would cost something, but his income wasample--at least four times his expenditure. 

He looked up as a handsomely dressed gentleman entered the room. 

"What is your business, sir?" asked Stephen Ray, formally. 

The visitor smiled. 

"You don't recognize me, Stephen Ray?" he said. 

"Benjamin Bolton!" exclaimed the other, his countenance changing. 

"The same. "

"I judge from your appearance that your circumstances have improved, "said Mr. Ray, coldly. 

"Fortunately, yes. "

"You have probably come to receive my congratulations. Well, Icongratulate you. "

"Thank you. The money you kindly loaned me when I was last here did mea great deal of good. "

"I presume you have come to repay it, " said Ray, with a sneer. 

"You are right, " and Bolton drew from his pocket two fifty-dollarbills, which he tendered to his host. 

Stephen Ray was fond of money, and he received the notes withsatisfaction. 

"You have acted honorably, " he said more graciously. "Are you locatedin the neighborhood, Mr. Bolton?"

"No, in New York City. I am in a law office there. "

"I am pleased with your success. I would ask you to remain, but I ambusy this morning. "

"Excuse me, Mr. Ray, but the repayment of the loan was not my onlyerrand. I am here on more important business. "

Stephen Ray's countenance changed. He began to fear that Bolton hadfound Ernest. 

"Well?" he said stiffly. 

"When I was here last year you told me that Dudley Ray's son Ernestwas dead. "

"Yes, he died in Alabama. "

"When I was here before you told me he died in Georgia. "

"I believe it was in Georgia, " said Stephen Ray, disconcerted. 

"You will be glad to hear that it is a mistake--about his death, Imean. He is as much alive as you are. "

"Mr. Bolton, " said Ray angrily, "you are trying to impose upon me. Theboy is dead, I tell you. "

"And I tell you he is not dead. I saw him only yesterday. "

"You may have seen some one who pretended to be Ernest Ray. "

"I should not be easily deceived. He is the image of his father. "

"I don't believe the boy is alive. "

"Shall I bring him here?"

"You need not trouble yourself. I can have nothing to say to him, whether he is really Ernest Ray or an impostor. "

"I beg your pardon. If he is Ernest Ray, under the will which I havein my possession he is the owner of this property. "

Bolton spoke firmly, and looked Ray resolutely in the eye. 

Stephen Ray flushed and then paled. There was a great fear in hisheart, but he resolved to brave it out. 

"This is a base conspiracy, " he ejaculated. "Your share in it ought toland you in State's prison. "

"I am willing to take my chance of it, " said the lawyer calmly. "Didn'tyou recognize the boy when you saw him?"

"What do you mean?"

"You saw him in the hotel at Buffalo. He recognized you, and had aconversation with your son. "

"Had a conversation with Clarence? That is a lie. Clarence never spoketo me about it. "

"You had better question him. But there is no need of sparring. I tellyou confidently that Ernest Ray is alive, and demands the estate whichyou hold, under his grandfather's will. "

"This is simply ridiculous. Of course there is but one answer to sucha proposal. "

"And what is that?"

"I refuse absolutely to make any concession to an impostor. "

"That is your final answer?"

"It is. "

"Then I give you notice that the boy will at once bring suit for therestoration of the estate and the vindication of his rights. "

"I suppose you are his lawyer, " sneered Ray. 

"The firm with which I am connected has undertaken the case. "

"What is the firm?" asked Stephen Ray, with an anxiety which he couldnot conceal. 

"Norcross & Co. , " answered Bolton. 

Great drops of perspiration appeared on the brow of Stephen Ray. Heknew very well the high reputation and uniform success of the firm inquestion. 

He did not immediately answer, but began to pace the room inagitation. Finally he spoke. 

"I don't know what to say. This has come upon me as a surprise. Ithought the boy dead. I may be willing to make some arrangement. Bringhim here some day next week say Tuesday and we will talk the matterover. "

"You must do something more than talk the matter over, Stephen Ray. Agreat injustice has been done, and the wrong must be righted. "

"Come here next Tuesday, " was the only answer made. 

The lawyer bowed and withdrew. 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

CONCLUSION. 

On Tuesday Bolton returned with Ernest. Two hours were spent inconference with Stephen Ray. The latter fought hard, but had to yieldin the end. He understood perfectly well the strength of hisopponent's case. 

Ernest consented to receive the estate as it was bequeathed to hisfather, without any demand for back revenues. Whatever Stephen Ray hadaccumulated besides, he was allowed to retain. 

As this amounted to a hundred thousand dollars, Ray felt that it mighthave been worse. Had he not been dissuaded by Bolton, Ernest wouldhave consented to share the estate with the usurper, but the lawyerrepresented that this would be condoning the wrong done to his father. 

In a month the whole matter was settled, and Stephen Ray departed, removing to Chicago, in which city he had some business interests. 

"But what shall I do with this large house?" asked Ernest. "I don'twant to live here. "

"I know of a gentleman who would like to hire it for term of years, "responded Bolton. "He will pay a rental of five thousand dollars ayear. The bonds which you inherit will yield an income equally large. "

"So that my income will be ten thousand dollars a year?" said Ernest, dazzled. 

"Yes. "

"What shall I do with it all?"

Bolton smiled. 

"You are but seventeen, " he said. "A few years hence you will probablymarry. Then you can occupy the house yourself. Meanwhile--"

"I will go back to California. Luke will expect me. While I am away Iappoint you my man of business. I wish you to have charge of myproperty at a proper commission. "

"I will undertake the charge with pleasure. "

Bolton knew how much this would increase his importance in the eyes ofthe firm by which he was employed. Still, Ernest could not have made abetter choice. Bolton was no longer intemperate. He was shrewd andkeen, and loyal to his young employer. 

Ernest returned to California, but he had lost his old zest forbusiness, now that his fortune was secure. He soon came East again, and entered upon a plan of systematic study, ending with a collegiatecourse. He brought with him Frank Fox, the son of the dead outlaw, whoregarded him with devoted affection. They lived together, and heplaced Frank at a well-known school, justly noted for the success ofits pupils. 

Of the many boys with whom Frank was associated not one suspected thatthe attractive lad, who was a favorite with all, was a son of thenoted desperado whose deeds had been commemorated in dime novels andwere a matter of common knowledge in the West. Ernest had cautionedthe boy to say as little as possible of his past history. 

Years have gone by, and what Bolton predicted has come to pass. Ernestis a young man, a college graduate, and he will soon be married to ayoung lady of high position in the city of New York. He will go abroadfor a year, and on his return will take up his home on his ancestralestate. 

Last week he received a letter from a patient in a New York Cityhospital. It was signed John Franklin, a name with which he was notfamiliar. 

In some wonder he answered the call, and was led to a bed on which laya gaunt, spectral man, evidently in the last stage of existence. 

"Is this John Franklin?" asked Ernest, doubtfully. 

"That is the name I go by now, " answered the dying man. 

"Do I know you? Have I ever met you?"

"Yes. "

"I don't remember you. "

"If I tell you my real name, will you keep it secret?"

"Yes. "

"Then I am John Fox. "

"What! the noted outlaw?"

"I am all that is left of him. You will not betray me?"

"No; certainly not. Can I do anything for you?"

"Yes; you were left the guardian of my brother's child?"

"Yes. "

"Is he alive? Is he well?"

"Yes. "

"Will you bring him here? Will you let me see him before I die?"

"I will. I cannot refuse the request of a dying man. "

So Ernest brought Frank to the bedside of his dying uncle. It was asad interview. Frank was moved, but John Fox, seeing him strong, handsome, robust, felt comforted. 

"He at least has profited by the fate that overtook his father andmyself. I shall die content, for I leave him in good hands. Don't lethim think too hardly of us!"

"I will not. And so far as I can compass it, his future life shall behappy. "

The dying outlaw reached out his hand and pressed Ernest's gratefully. A day later, and he was dead. 

THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. 'S POPULAR JUVENILES. 

L. T. TROWBRIDGE. 

Neither as a writer does he stand apart from the great currents oflife and select some exceptional phase or odd combination ofcircumstances. He stands on the common level and appeals to theuniversal heart, and all that he suggests or achieves is on the planeand in the line of march of the great body of humanity. 

The Jack Hazard series of stories, published in the late _Our YoungFolks_, and continued in the first volume of _St. Nicholas_, under thetitle of "Fast Friends, " is no doubt destined to hold a high place inthis class of literature. The delight of the boys in them (and oftheir seniors, too) is well founded. They go to the right spot everytime. Trowbridge knows the heart of a boy like a book, and the heartof a man, too, and he has laid them both open in these books in a mostsuccessful manner. Apart from the qualities that render the series soattractive to all young readers, they have great value on account oftheir portraitures of American country life and character. The drawingis wonderfully accurate, and as spirited as it is true. The constable, Sellick, is an original character, and as minor figures where will wefind anything better than Miss Wansey, and Mr. P. Pipkin, Esq. Thepicture of Mr. Dink's school, too, is capital, and where else infiction is there a better nick-name than that the boys gave to poorlittle Stephen Treadwell, "Step Hen, " as he himself pronounced hisname in an unfortunate moment when he saw it in print for the firsttime in his lesson in school. 

On the whole, these books are very satisfactory, and afford thecritical reader the rare pleasure of the works that are just adequate, that easily fulfill themselves and accomplish all they set out to do. _--Scribner's Monthly. _

JACK HAZARD SERIES. 6 vols. By J. T. TROWBRIDGE $7. 25

 Jack Hazard and His Fortunes The Young Surveyor. Fast Friends. Doing His Best. A Chance for Himself. Lawrence's Adventures. 

CHARLES ASBURY STEPHENS. 

"This author wrote his "Camping Out Series" at the very height of hismental and physical powers. 

"We do not wonder at the popularity of these books; there is afreshness and variety about them, and an enthusiasm in the descriptionof sport and adventure, which even the older folk can hardly fail toshare. " _--Worcester Spy. _

"The author of the Camping Out Series is entitled to rank as decidedlyat the head of what may be called boys' literature. "_--Buffalo Courier. _

CAMPING OUT SERIES. By C. A. STEPHENS. All books in this series are 12mo. With eight full page illustrations. Cloth, extra, 75 cents. 

CAMPING OUT. As Recorded by "Kit. "

"This book is bright, breezy, wholesome, instructive, and stands abovethe ordinary boys books of the day by a whole head and shoulders. "_--The Christian Register_, Boston. 

LEFT ON LABRADOR; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE SCHOONER YACHT "CURLEW. " AsRecorded by "Wash. "

"The perils of the voyagers, the narrow escapes, their strangeexpedients, and the fun and jollity when danger had passed, will makeboys even unconscious of hunger. " _--New Bedford Mercury. _

OFF TO THE GEYSERS; OR THE YOUNG YACHTERS IN ICELAND. As Recorded by"Wade. "

"It is difficult to believe that Wade and Read and Kit and Wash werenot live boys, sailing up Hudson Straits, and reigning temporarilyover an Esquimaux tribe. " _--The Independent_, New York. 

LYNX HUNTING: From Notes by the Author of "Camping Out. "

"Of _first quality_ as a boys' book, and fit to take its place besidethe best. " _--Richmond Enquirer. _

Fox HUNTING. As Recorded by "Raed. "

"The most spirited and entertaining book that has as yet appeared. Itoverflows with incident, and is characterized by dash and brilliancythroughout. " _--Boston Gazette. _

ON THE AMAZON; OR, THE CRUISE OF THE "RAMBLER. " As Recorded by "Wash. "

"Gives vivid pictures of Brazilian adventure and scenery. "_--Buffalo Courier. _

HARRY CASTLEMON. 

HOW I CAME TO WRITE MY FIRST BOOK. 

When I was sixteen years old I belonged to a composition class. It wasour custom to go on the recitation seat every day with clean slates, and we were allowed ten minutes to write seventy words on any subjectthe teacher thought suited to our capacity. One day he gave out "Whata Man Would See if He Went to Greenland. " My heart was in the matter, and before the ten minutes were up I had one side of my slate filled. The teacher listened to the reading of our compositions, and when theywere all over he simply said: "Some of you will make your living bywriting one of these days. " That gave me something to ponder upon. Idid not say so out loud, but I knew that my composition was as good asthe best of them. By the way, there was another thing that came in myway just then. I was reading at that time one of Mayne Reid's workswhich I had drawn from the library, and I pondered upon it as much asI did upon what the teacher said to me. In introducing Swartboy to hisreaders he made use of this expression: "No visible change wasobservable in Swartboy's countenance. " Now, it occurred to me that ifa man of his education could make such a blunder as that and stillwrite a book, I ought to be able to do it, too. I went home that veryday and began a story, "The Old Guide's Narrative, " which was sent tothe _New York Weekly_, and came back, respectfully declined. It waswritten on both sides of the sheets but I didn't know that this wasagainst the rules. Nothing abashed, I began another, and receivingsome instruction, from a friend of mine who was a clerk in a bookstore, I wrote it on only one side of the paper. But mind you, hedidn't know what I was doing. Nobody knew it; but one day, after ahard Saturday's work--the other boys had been out skating on thebrick-pond--I shyly broached the subject to my mother. I felt the needof some sympathy. She listened in amazement, and then said: "Why, doyou think you could write a book like that?" That settled the matter, and from that day no one knew what I was up to until I sent the firstfour volumes of Gunboat Series to my father. Was it work? Well, yes;it was hard work, but each week I had the satisfaction of seeing themanuscript grow until the "Young Naturalist" was all complete. 

_--Harry Castlemon in the Writer. _

GUNBOAT SERIES. 6 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. $6. 00

 Frank the Young Naturalist. Frank on a Gunboat. Frank in the Woods. Frank before Vicksburg. Frank on the Lower Mississippi. Frank on the Prairie. 

ROCKY MOUNTAIN SERIES. 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. $3. 00

 Frank Among the Rancheros. Frank in the Mountains. Frank at Don Carlos Rancho. 

SPORTSMAN'S CLUB SERIES. 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. $3. 75

 The Sportsman's Club in the Saddle. The Sportsman's Club Among the Trappers. The Sportsman's Club Afloat. 

FRANK NELSON SERIES. 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. $3. 75

 Snowed up. Frank in the Forecastle. The Boy Traders. 

ROUGHING IT SERIES. 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. $3. 00

 George in Camp. George at the Fort. George at the Wheel. 

ROD AND GUN SERIES. 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. $3. 00

 Don Gordon's Shooting Box. The Young Wild Fowlers. Rod and Gun Club. 

GO-AHEAD SERIES. 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. $3. 00

 Tom Newcombe. Go-Ahead. No Moss. 

WAR SERIES, 6 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. $6. 00

 True to His Colors. Marcy the Blockade-Runner. Rodney the Partisan. Marcy the Refugee. Rodney the Overseer. Sailor Jack the Trader. 

HOUSEBOAT SERIES. 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. $3. 00

 The Houseboat Boys. The Mystery of Lost River Canon. The Young Game Warden. 

AFLOAT AND ASHORE SERIES. 3 vols. BY HARRY CASTLEMON. $3. 00

 Rebellion in Dixie. A Sailor in Spite of Himself. The Ten-Ton Cutter. 

COMPLETE CATALOG OF BEST BOOKS FOR BOYS AND GIRLS MAILED ONAPPLICATION TO THE PUBLISHERS

THE JOHN C. WINSTON CO. , PHILADELPHIA