So she sat pondering how to accomplish the object she had in view. She could not herself beat Jasper, though, had he been younger and smaller, she would certainly have attempted it. She must do it by deputy.

Under the circumstances she thought of Tom Forbes, a strong and stalwart hired man, who had been for some months working on the place. Probably he would not like the task, but she would threaten to discharge him if he refused to obey her commands, and this, she thought, would bring him around.

"I wonder where Jasper is?" said Nicholas, about eight o'clock, as he sat opposite the little table where his mother was sewing.

"Gone out, I suppose," said Mrs. Kent.

"He found the house too hot to hold him," suggested Thorne.

"He certainly will if he conducts himself in the future as he has already done. He makes a mistake if he thinks I will tolerate such conduct."

"It's because you're a woman," said her son. "Boys of his age don't make much account of women."

"Do you speak for yourself as well as for him?" asked Mrs. Kent, sharply.

"Of course not," said Nicholas, whose interest it was to keep on good terms with his mother. "Of course not; besides, you are my mother."

"You are much more of a gentleman than Jasper is," said his mother, appeased.

"I hope so," said Nicholas.

"As for him, I consider him a young ruffian."

"So he is," said Thorne, who was ready to assent to anything that his mother might say.

"And yet his father thought him a paragon!" continued Mrs. Kent, her lip curling. "It is strange how parents can be deceived!"

Unconsciously she illustrated the truth of this remark in her own person. She considered Nicholas handsome, spirited, and amiable—indeed, as an unusually fascinating and attractive boy. To others he was big, overgrown, malicious, and stupid. But then mothers are apt to look through different spectacles from the rest of the world.

"I guess Jasper'll want to change his guardian," said Thorne, laughing. "You and he won't hitch horses very well."

"Don't use such a common expression, Nicholas. I want you to grow up a well-bred gentleman."

"Oh, well, I mean to. But I say, if his father liked him so much, what made him appoint you to take care of him?"

"He didn't know how I felt toward Jasper. I humored his fancies, and treated him better than I felt toward him."

"Then you wanted to be his guardian?"

"Yes, I wanted to pay off old scores," said Mrs. Kent, again compressing her lips with unpleasant firmness.

"What made you dislike him?" asked her son, with curiosity.

"He was opposed to my marriage. He would have stopped it if he could, but there I got the better of him. When he found that he was too late he treated me with coldness. He never liked me."

"By Jove! I don't think he's had much reason," said Nicholas, laughing boisterously.

"He'll regret not having treated me with more attention. I can thwart all his plans and make his life very uncomfortable."

"I'll trust you to do that, mother. You've got spunk enough."

"Don't say 'spunk,' Nicholas."

"What shall I say, then?"

"Resolution—firmness."

"It's all the same."

"There is a choice in words. Remember, my dear boy, I want you to be a refined and cultivated gentleman."

"Well, I can be, now you're rich. But I say, mother, what are you going to do? You ain't going to stick down in this dull place all your life, are you?"

"No, Nicholas. In the summer we'll go travelling."

"Good!" exclaimed Nicholas, with satisfaction. "Where will we go?"

"How would you like to go to Niagara Falls?"

"Bully!"

"Or to Saratoga?"

"I don't know much about that."

"It is a fashionable place."

"Can a fellow have fun there?"

"Of course he can."

"Then I'd like to go. But I say, are you going to take Jasper, too?"

"No," said Mrs. Kent, decidedly. "I certainly shall not give him so much pleasure."

"I don't know. I might like it better if I had a fellow of my own age to go around with."

"You will find plenty of companions more agreeable than Jasper."

"All right, mother. I suppose you know best."

"You can trust me to provide for your happiness, Nicholas. It is all I live for."

The next morning Mrs. Kent arose early, and summoned the hired man, Tom Forbes.

"Tom," said she, "have you a good whip?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"And a strong arm?"

"Middlin', ma'am," answered the wondering hired man.

"I want you to be in the kitchen, provided with your whip, when breakfast is over."

"What for?" asked Tom, in surprise.

"Never mind now. I shall inform you at the time."

"All right, ma'am."

Twenty minutes later, Jasper, unaware of his step-mother's benevolent intentions, took his seat at the breakfast-table.



CHAPTER XIII.

MRS. KENT IS FOILED.

Breakfast was a quiet meal. Mrs. Kent preserved a frigid silence toward Jasper, interrupted only by necessary questions. Nicholas, who understood that there was a row in prospect, occasionally smiled as he looked across the table at Jasper, but he, too, was silent.

When breakfast was over, and the three arose from the table, Mrs. Kent said, in a cold voice:

"Jasper Kent, I have something to say to you."

"Very well," said Jasper, taking a seat and looking expectant.

"Yesterday you conducted yourself in a most improper manner."

"Please explain," said Jasper, quietly.

"You ought not to require any explanation. You made an assault upon Nicholas."

"I beg pardon, Mrs. Kent, but he made an assault upon me."

"You knocked him down."

"Not until he attacked me."

"He did so by my direction."

"Did you expect me to make no resistance?" asked Jasper.

"You had insulted me, and it was his duty, as my son, to resent it."

"I don't think you have any right to say that I insulted you, and you would not have any reason to complain of me if you would treat me with ordinary justice and politeness."

"You are insulting me now," said Mrs. Kent, angrily.

"I am telling the truth. I am sorry that it is the truth. I would prefer to live on good terms with you."

"And have your own way!" said his step-mother, sarcastically. "I understand you, but I will have you know that I am mistress in this house. Are you ready to apologize for having attacked Nicholas?"

"I did not wish to do it, especially as he didn't attack me of his own accord, but if he should do so again I should act in the same manner."

"Insolent!" exclaimed his step-mother, reddening.

"You have peculiar ideas of insolence," said Jasper, quietly. "I believe in defending myself, but I shouldn't like to harm Nicholas."

"You have undertaken to rebel against my authority," said Mrs. Kent, "but you don't understand me. I am not to be bullied or overcome by a boy."

"You are in no danger of either from me, madam."

"I shall take care not to give you the power. Nicholas, call Tom."

Jasper looked at his step-mother in amazement. What had Tom Forbes to do with their colloquy.

Nicholas opened the door of the adjoining room, the kitchen, and summoned the hired man.

Ignorant of why he was wanted, for Mrs. Kent had not informed him, he came into the room, and looked about with a perplexed expression.

He was a tall, strong-looking fellow, country-bred, of about twenty-five or six.

"Where is your whip, Tom?" demanded Mrs. Kent.

"My whip?" repeated Tom.

"Yes; didn't I tell you I wanted you to have it?"

"Yes, ma'am; it's in the kitchen."

"Bring it."

Tom went into the kitchen, and returned bringing the whip.

"What am I to do with it?" he asked.

"I will tell you in a moment. Jasper Kent," said his step-mother, turning to him, "you have rebelled against my just authority, you have insulted me in my own house, you have made a brutal attack upon my son in my presence, and now I am going to have you punished. Tom, I order you to give Jasper half a dozen lashes with your whip."

It is hard to tell which looked the more surprised at this brutal command, Jasper or the hired man. They looked at each other in amazement, but Tom did not stir.

"Did you hear me?" asked Mrs. Kent, sharply, impatient of the delay.

"Yes, ma'am, I heard you," answered Tom, slowly.

"Why don't you obey, then?" she continued, in the same tone.

"Because," said Tom, with manly independence, "I didn't hire out to do anything of the kind."

"Do you refuse?"

"Yes, I do. You may do your own dirty work."

"It seems you are not only disobedient, but insolent," said Mrs. Kent, angrily.

"You must be crazy, ma'am!" said the hired man, bluntly.

"No more of this. I discharge you from my employment."

"What! for not flogging Master Jasper?"

"For not obeying me."

"I'll follow your directions, ma'am, so far as they are in the line of duty, but I won't do that."

"I discharge you."

"As to that, ma'am, if I go, I'll let everybody in the village know why you sent me away."

For this Mrs. Kent was not altogether prepared. She knew that it was not prudent to defy public opinion. Perhaps she had already gone too far. She put a great constraint upon herself, and said:

"Go back to your work. I will speak of this matter hereafter."

Tom withdrew at once, glad of the opportunity. Thus far Mrs. Kent had been foiled, and she knew it. She could scarcely conceal her mortification.

Jasper, who had been passive thus far, now spoke. He felt outraged and disgusted by his step-mother's brutal purpose, though it had failed.

"Mrs. Kent," he said with quiet resolution, "after the scene of this morning I cannot remain in the same house with you. My father has not been dead a week, yet you have treated me in a manner which, though I never liked you, I could not have thought possible. You are left my guardian. I do not wish to remain another day in this house. Have I your permission to return to school?"

"No," said his step-mother.

"Why not?"

"Because you wish it. I do not mean to let you have your own way."

"I am willing to go to another school, if you insist upon it."

"You will go to no school. You will stay here."

"In this house?"

"Yes."

"With the opinion which you have of me, Mrs. Kent, I should hardly think this would be very agreeable to you."

"It will not. I hate the sight of you!" said his step-mother, with energy.

"I am sorry for that, but I am not surprised. From the way you have treated me, I should think so. Won't it be better for as both to be separated?"

"It will gratify your wishes, and therefore I order you to remain here."

"That we may have more such scenes as yesterday and to-day?"

"No; I am determined to break your rebellious will, and teach you to obey me implicitly."

"I have only to ask if you have fully made up your mind," said Jasper, quietly, but with suppressed excitement.

"I mean precisely what I say."

"Then, madam, I shall have to leave this house and go out into the world. I shall find more kindness among strangers than here."

"I have heard boys talk like this before," said Mrs. Kent, with contemptuous incredulity.

"Boys sometimes mean what they say," retorted Jasper.

He took his hat and left the room without another word.

"I say, mother," said Nicholas, "suppose he don't come back?"

"There's no fear of that," said Mrs. Kent, coldly.

"But I say, mother, he's pretty plucky, Jasper is."

"He won't run away from me as long as I have charge of his property, you may be sure of that. He'll be coming back and apologizing pretty soon."

"Suppose he doesn't?"

"Then it'll be his own fault."

"You may as well let him go back to school, mother. He'll be out of our way, and we can enjoy ourselves."

"I am not going to gratify him so far. He has defied me and insulted me, and he must take the consequences," said Mrs. Kent, with a compression of her thin lips.

On the whole, Jasper's prospects could not be said to be very flattering.



CHAPTER XIV.

MEDIATION.

When Jasper left the house he bent his steps to the dwelling of a friend of his father, Otis Miller, a man of considerable property and good position. He found Mr. Miller at home.

"I am glad to see you, Jasper," said he, cordially.

"Thank you, sir."

"You have met with a great loss," said Mr. Miller, attributing Jasper's serious expression to his father's death.

"Yes, sir; I am only just beginning to understand how much."

"A father's place cannot be supplied."

"No, sir; but this is not the extent of my trouble."

"Can I do anything to help you?"

"Yes, sir. I am very much in need of advice."

"I shall be glad to give you the best I can, Jasper. I was your father's friend, and I shall be glad to be yours also."

"Thank you, sir. My troubles are connected with my step-mother, who treats me like an enemy."

"Can this be so?" asked Mr. Miller, in surprise.

"I will tell you all, and then ask your advice."

"Do so."

Jasper told the story briefly and without excitement. It was only in his step-mother's presence that he felt disturbed.

"I have met your step-mother, but I know very little of her," said Mr. Miller. "She never impressed me very favorably, but I never dreamed that she would act in such an unreasonable manner. Perhaps even now matters are not as bad as you think. Sometimes people say things in anger which they repent of in their cooler moments."

"I don't think it is the case with Mrs. Kent."

"It is unfortunate, since she is your guardian."

"I wish you were my guardian, Mr. Miller."

"For your sake, Jasper, I wish I were. I don't think we should quarrel."

"I know we should not."

"You wish to know what to do?"

"Yes."

"You are quite sure you cannot stay at home?"

"I should be subject to constant persecution from Mrs. Kent."

"You think she would not allow you to go back to school?"

"She has refused to do so."

"There is one thing she cannot do, and that is, keep your portion of the estate from you when you become of age."

"No, I suppose not."

"You will then be rich."

"But the money won't do me any good now, will it?"

"In this way it will. Suppose I agree to pay your expenses at school—that is to say, advancing the money, to be repaid when you obtain yours?"

"That would be very kind, Mr. Miller; but I shouldn't like to subject you to that risk."

"You mean that a minor's promise would be invalid? Well, Jasper, I have too much confidence in you to have any doubt of your integrity."

"Thank you, Mr. Miller; but suppose I should die before attaining my majority?"

"Then I should probably lose the money."

"That is what I thought of. I should not like to have you run the risk."

"But I am willing to do so. However, it may be as well to ascertain definitely your step-mother's intentions first. I will call upon her in your interest and find out."

"Thank you, sir. I should like to have you do so, as I don't want to act too hastily."

"I will go at once. Will you remain here till I return?"

"Yes, sir."

When Mrs. Kent was told that Mr. Miller had called to see her she went down to meet him, not surmising his errand.

"Mrs. Kent," said he, after the ordinary greetings were over, "I have called with reference to your relations to your late husband's son, Jasper."

"Did he ask you to come?" demanded Mrs. Kent, frowning.

"No; but he came to ask my advice as to what he ought to do. I am sorry to hear that you are unfriendly."

"He has treated me with intolerable insolence," said Mrs. Kent, hotly.

"That surprises me. It is wholly contrary to his reputation with those who have known him from his infancy," said Mr. Miller, quietly.

"Then you don't know him as he is."

"He tells me you have accorded your own son superior privileges."

"My son treats me with respect."

"Probably you treat him differently from Jasper."

"I have reasons to."

"You will admit that it is aggravating to see a stranger—an intruder, I may say—preferred to him in his own home?"

"Who calls my son an intruder?" asked Mrs. Kent, hastily.

"Let us call him a stranger, then. Was Mr. Kent aware that you had a son?"

"I decline to answer your question," answered Mrs. Kent, with asperity.

"To pass on, then. Have you refused Jasper permission to return to the school at which his father placed him?"

"I have."

"May I ask why?"

"I don't know that I am responsible to you."

"Mrs. Kent," said Mr. Miller, gravely, "I was the friend of your late husband. I am the friend of his son, Jasper. As the friend of both, I ask you your reason."

"I will answer you, though I do not acknowledge your right to ask. I refuse to let Jasper go back to school, because I wish to punish him for his insolence and disobedience."

"It cannot be any satisfaction to you to have him at home, I should think."

"It is not. I have no reason to like his society."

"Then it appears that you punish yourself in keeping him here."

"Yes."

"Do you think, Mrs. Kent, that you have any right to deprive him of the opportunity to obtain an education?"

"He can attend school in this village," said Mrs. Kent.

"You know as well as I that there is neither a classical nor a high school here. He would be compelled to give up the course of study upon which he has commenced."

"That is his own fault," returned Mrs. Kent, doggedly.

"This, then, is your unalterable determination?"

"For the present, yes. If Jasper repents his ill-conduct, and makes up his mind to yield me that implicit obedience which is my due, I may hereafter consent to return him to school. But he must turn over a new leaf."

"Madam," said Mr. Miller, disgusted at the woman's manner, "do you consider that you are carrying out his father's wishes in reference to his son?"

"That is a question for me to decide," said Mrs. Kent, coldly. "I have undertaken the responsibility, and I have no fears about carrying out his wishes. I must trust my own judgment, not that of others."

"Madam," said Mr. Miller, after a pause, "there is one other question which I should like to put to you."

"Very well, sir."

"This guardianship imposed upon you is a certain amount of care. Are you willing to relinquish it to another?"

"To you, perhaps?" suggested Mrs. Kent, with a sneer.

"I should be willing to undertake it for Jasper's sake."

"I have no doubt you would, and I presume Jasper would be very glad to have you do so."

"I think he would, though he didn't authorize me to speak to you about it," said Mr. Miller.

"Then, sir, I refuse in the most emphatic terms. I shall not relinquish the power which his father's will gives me over him. He shall yet repent his insolence."

"I regret your animosity, Mrs. Kent," said Mr. Miller, with dignity, rising as he spoke. "I was inclined to think that Jasper had exaggerated his account of the difficulties. I see now that he was correct. I have only, in wishing you good-morning, to predict that you will yet regret the manner in which you have treated your step-son."

"I will take my chance of that," said Mrs. Kent. "You may report to Jasper that my only terms are unconditional submission."

"I will do so, madam; but you know, as well as I, what his answer will be. His nature is too manly to submit to tyranny, even from his step-mother."

"You are not over-polite, sir," said Mrs. Kent, angrily.

"I am truthful, madam," was the grave reply.



CHAPTER XV.

GOOD-BYE.

"Without exception, Jasper," said Mr. Miller, on his return, "I consider your step-mother the most disagreeble woman I ever met."

Jasper could not help smiling at the look of disgust upon the features of his father's friend.

"Then, sir, I infer that you did not succeed in your mission," he said.

"Succeed? No. She will offer no terms except unconditional submission on your part."

"That I won't agree to." said Jasper, promptly.

"I don't blame you—not a particle," said Mr. Miller.

"So much is settled, then," said Jasper. "Now the question comes up—what am I to do?"

"How old are you?"

"Nearly sixteen."

"Then five years must elapse before you come into possession of your property?"

"Yes, sir."

"And for that length of time you are to be under the guardianship of Mrs. Kent?"

"Yes, sir."

"It is unfortunate," said the old gentleman, shrugging his shoulders. "I took the liberty to suggest to your step-mother that if the cares of a guardian should prove burdensome to her I would assume them."

"What did she say?"

"She replied in a sarcastic manner, and avowed her determination to remain your guardian."

"What would you advise me to do, then, Mr. Miller?"

"Before answering, Jasper, I will tell you a secret."

Jasper looked curious.

"Your father left in my hands a paper to be opened two years after his death. It undoubtedly relates to you."

"What do you think it is?"

"It may relate to the guardianship, but that is only conjecture."

"Does my step-mother know of this?"

"Neither she nor anyone else, save you and myself."

"It will do us no good at present?"

"No; but it influences my advice. Go to school for the next two years. I will advance the money to pay your bills. If at the end of that time the paper is what I hope it is, you will then be able to pay me, and for the balance of your minority I can become your guardian."

"I wish you might, Mr. Miller; but I don't think, under the circumstances, I want to go back to school."

"What do you wish to do, Jasper?"

"I am young, and I would like to see something of the world. I would like to imagine myself a poor boy, as I really am just now, and see if I cannot make my own way."

"I hardly know what to say to that, Jasper. I am afraid you do not appreciate the difficulties in your way."

"To battle against them will make me strong."

"Suppose you get in a tight place?"

"Then I will write to you for help."

"That's better. On this condition I will make no further opposition to your wishes. But have you any money?"

"Ten dollars."

"Rather a small sum to begin the world with."

"Yes, sir. If you are willing to lend me fifty more I think I can get along till I can earn some."

"Willingly. Where do you propose to go?"

"To the West. My father has a cousin, a lady, married, and living in a small town on the banks of the Mississippi. I have never been to the West. I should like to go out there and see if I can't find some employment in that neighborhood."

"I suppose I must not object, but your plan appears to me rather quixotic."

"You might not have thought so at my age, Mr. Miller."

"No; we look upon such things differently as we grow older. When do you want to start?"

"To-morrow."

"Stay at my house till then."

"Thank you, sir. I will go home this afternoon and get my carpet-bag and a few underclothes, and then I shall be ready to start to-morrow morning."

Jasper did as proposed. He would gladly have dispensed with this call at the house which had once been a home to him, but was so no longer; but it was necessary to make it.

He caught sight of Tom Forbes near the house.

"Tom," he called out, "do you know if Mrs. Kent is at home?"

"No, Master Jasper, she went out riding, and her cub went with her."

"I am afraid you're not respectful, Tom," said Jasper, laughing.

"He don't deserve respect. He puts on as many airs as a prince. I warrant he was poor enough before his mother took him home. What do you think he said to me?"

"What was it?"

"'Look here, Tom, you harness the horse right up, do you hear? Don't stand dawdling there, for I and mother are going out to ride.'"

"That sounds like Nicholas."

"You may be sure he ain't used to prosperity, or he wouldn't put on so many airs!"

"Well, Tom, I'm glad Mrs. Kent is out. I don't want to meet her, nor Nicholas, either."

"You'll see 'em at supper, won't you?"

"No; I shall not be here to supper."

"When are you coming back?"

"Not at all."

"You don't mean that, Master Jasper?"

"Yes, I do."

"Are you going to school?"

"No; I'm going out West."

"Out West?" exclaimed Tom Forbes, stopping work in surprise.

"Yes, Tom, I'm going out there to seek my fortune."

"But there ain't any need of that, Master Jasper. Didn't your father leave you a fortune?"

"I'm not to have it till I'm twenty-one, and till then my step-mother is my guardian. Now, I put it to you, Tom, can I stay at home to be treated as you saw me treated this morning?"

"No, you can't, that's a fact. Master Jasper, I wish you'd take me with you as your servant."

"As to that, Tom, I am in no position to have a servant; I've got to work for my own living."

"And she here living on the fat of the land!" exclaimed Tom, indignantly. "It's an outrageous shame!"

"Strong language, Tom," said Jasper, smiling. "Mind my amiable step-mother doesn't hear you."

"I don't care if she does."

"Thank you for your offer, Tom, but I must go alone. Perhaps I shall prosper out there. I hope so, at any rate."

"Have you got any money, Master Jasper? I've got a few dollars laid by. If they'll do you any good you're welcome to take 'em. I shan't need 'em."

"Thank you, Tom," said Jasper, cordially grasping his toil-embrowned hand, "but I am well provided for. Mr. Miller, my father's friend, is mine, too. He has lent me some money, and will lend me more if I need it."

"I'm glad of that. You'll always find friends."

Half an hour later, as Jasper was going up the street, with his carpet-bag in one hand, he saw the open carriage approaching in which Mrs. Kent and Nicholas were seated. He would liked to have escaped observation, but there was no chance.

"Why, there's Jasper!" said Nicholas, "and he's got a carpet-bag in his hand."

"Stop the carriage!" said Mrs. Kent, peremptorily.

Nicholas, who was driving, obeyed.

"Have you been to the house?" asked the step-mother.

"Yes," said Jasper.

"What does that carpet-bag mean?"

"It means that I am going away."

"Where? As your guardian, I demand to know!"

"As my guardian, will you provide for my expenses?"

"No."

"Then I don't feel called upon to tell you."

"You will repent this insubordination," said Mrs. Kent, angrily. "You will yet return home in rags."

"Never!" answered Jasper, with emphasis. "Good-afternoon, Mrs. Kent."

"Drive on, Nicholas!" said Mrs. Kent, angrily. "How I hate that boy!" she ejaculated.

"It strikes me, mother, you've got the best of it," said Nicholas. "You've got his property, and as to his company, we can do without that."



CHAPTER XVI.

AN UNPLEASANT ADVENTURE.

A week later Jasper was one of the passengers on a train bound for St. Louis, and already within sixty miles of that flourishing city. He had stopped over at Niagara and Cincinnati—a day or so at each place. He gratified his desire to see the great cataract, and felt repaid for doing so, though the two stops trenched formidably upon his small capital. Indeed, at the moment when he is introduced anew to the reader's notice he had but ten dollars remaining of the sum with which he started. He was, however, provided, besides, with a through ticket to St. Louis.

He had been sitting alone, when a stranger entering the car seated himself in the vacant seat.

Looking up, Jasper noticed that he was a tall man, shabbily dressed, with thin, sallow face and a swelling in the left cheek, probably produced by a quid of tobacco.

"Good-mornin', colonel," said the stranger, sociably.

"Good-morning, sir," said Jasper, smiling. "I haven't the honor of being a colonel."

"Haven't you, cap'n? Well, that ain't of no account. It'll come in time. Where are you travelling?"

"To St. Louis."

"Ever been there afore?"

"No; this will be my first visit."

"You don't say! Where may you be from?"

"From New York State," answered Jasper, amused.

The stranger drew from his pocket a package of chewing tobacco and passed it politely to Jasper.

"Help yourself, colonel," he said hospitably.

"No, thank you; I don't chew."

"Shoo, you don't say so! High time you began, then."

"I don't think I shall ever form the habit of chewing."

"Yes, you will, colonel; everybody does. Travellin' on business?"

"Well, not exactly," said Jasper, hesitatingly. "That is, I am looking for a chance to go into business."

"Got any capital?" interjected the stranger, carelessly, squirting a yellow stream upon the floor of the car.

"Oh, I don't expect to go into business for myself at present," said Jasper, amused at the thought.

"No?" said the other, reflectively. "If you had five thousand dollars I might take you into partnership."

"What is your business?" asked Jasper, with curiosity.

"Cotton," said the stranger. "I'm a cotton broker. I do a large business."

"You don't look like it," thought Jasper, looking at his shabby costume.

"You don't want a clerk, do you?" asked our hero.

"Well, no, colonel. There ain't any vacancy now in my establishment. May be soon."

Had Jasper felt favorably impressed with his companion he would have inquired where in the city his place of business might be, but it did not strike him that he should care to be in his employ.

He accordingly pulled out a copy of a popular magazine which he had bought the day before, and began to read. The stranger bought a paper of the train-boy, and engaged in a similar way. Fifteen minutes passed in this way. At the end of that time the stranger rose leisurely, and with a brief "Mornin', colonel," passed out of the car. Whether he got into the next one or got out at the station which they were approaching Jasper could not distinguish, nor did he feel specially interested in the matter.

The time soon came when he felt his interest increased.

A few miles further on the conductor entered the car.

It was one of his usual rounds to look at tickets.

When he came up to Jasper, he said:

"Be lively now. Let me see your ticket."

"Isn't it in my hat?" asked Jasper, taking it off.

"No; did you put it there?"

"I thought I did," said our hero, surprised. "It was there when you last passed round."

"Look in your pockets."

Jasper felt in all of them, but the missing ticket could not be found.

"It may have fallen on the floor," he said, and rising he looked under the seat.

But in vain.

"Did you have any ticket?" asked the conductor, suspiciously.

"Certainly. You have looked at it yourself several times."

"You are mistaken; I got on at the last station."

"I have come all the way from Cincinnati," said Jasper, uncomfortably. "I couldn't have come so far without a ticket. What shall I do?"

"You'll have to pay from the last station to St. Louis."

This was not very agreeable in the state of Jasper's finances.

"How much is it?" he asked.

"Two dollars."

Jasper felt for his pocket-book, when a new surprise awaited him. A look of consternation swept over his countenance.

His pocket-book was gone.

"Don't keep me waiting," said the conductor, impatiently.

"My pocket-book is gone!" exclaimed our hero, gazing in blank dismay at the expectant official.

"What?"

"I can't find my pocket-book."

"Look here, young man," said the conductor, roughly, "that's too thin."

"It's true!" said Jasper.

"It won't go down, young man. I've seen such customers as you before. You're a beat!"

"A what?"

"A beat—a dead-beat, if you prefer it. Off you go at the next station!"

Jasper was greatly alarmed at the unexpected turn affairs had taken.

"Let me go to St. Louis, and I'll get money to pay you."

"It's no use," said the conductor, inexorably. "My orders are strict. If you can't pay, you can't ride."

"But my pocket was picked," said Jasper, new light flashing upon him. "There was a stranger who sat beside me a while ago. He must have taken my ticket and money, too."

"Of course there was," said the conductor, with sarcasm. "That's the way it usually happens. I'm used to such games, young man. It won't do you any good. Out you go!"

"Let me go through the cars and see if I can't find the man that robbed me. I'd know him in a minute."

"Well," said the conductor, relenting slightly, "be quick about it."

Jasper waited for no more. He rose from his seat and, carpet-bag in hand, passed into the next car.

It proved to be the smoking car.

Groups of men were playing cards, and, as Jasper judged, were playing for money. Among them, to his great joy, he recognized his shabby companion, the cotton broker of St. Louis. The latter was playing with three other men, black-bearded, and loud both in their dress and speech.

Without a moment's hesitation Jasper advanced and touched his late companion on the shoulder.

The latter looked up, and without a sign of recognition said:

"What's wanted, sir?"

For the first time it struck Jasper that his errand was rather an awkward one. How could he ask this man if he had taken his property?

"I beg your pardon, sir," said he, "but did you see anything of my ticket and money?"

"What do you mean, stranger?"

"You were sitting by me a little while ago, in the rear car."

"I don't remember it."

"And I thought you might have seen my pocket-book and ticket."

"Well, I didn't," said the other, fiercely. "What made you think I did?"

"I can't find them."

"I don't know anything about them. General, it's your deal."

He turned abruptly away from Jasper, and the boy slowly withdrew to a little distance, sorely puzzled. On the one hand, he felt convinced that this man had abstracted his ticket and money. On the other, he doubted whether it would be safe to charge him with it.

While he was hesitating, the cars began to go more slowly.

The conductor entered the car.

"Have you found your ticket?" he asked.

"No."

"Then leave the train at this next stopping-place."

Jasper had no chance to remonstrate. Obeying necessity, he stepped upon the platform, and the train swept on.



CHAPTER XVII.

THE DESERTED HOUSE.

To be without money is far from pleasant under any circumstances, but to be penniless a thousand miles from home, in the midst of strangers, is far worse. Jasper found himself in this position so unexpectedly that as he stood beside the little depot with his carpet-bag in his hand he felt utterly bewildered.

He looked around him.

Not a house was in sight. Why the railroad company should have established a depot there he could not understand. Probably there must be some village not far away.

No other passenger had got out with Jasper. There was no other person in sight but the station-master, a tall, sallow-faced man, in a slouched hat, who eyed our hero curiously.

Jasper approached him.

"What place is this?" he asked.

"Don't you know?" questioned the man.

"No."

"What made you stop here, then?"

Jasper hesitated. There seemed no use in taking this man into his confidence.

"I am going to take a look at the village. I suppose there is a village?"

"Well," drawled the man, "there's some houses back."

"What's the name of the place?"

"Croyden."

"How far back is the village?"

"A matter of two miles."

"Is it easy to find the way?"

"There's the road."

The station-master pointed out a road leading through woods.

"Thank you," said Jasper.

"You don't happen to have any 'baccy with you?" asked the station-master.

"No, I am sorry to say."

"I thought maybe you might. I'm most out."

Jasper took the road indicated by his informant and pressed on.

When he had walked half a mile along the lonely road he stopped suddenly and asked himself:

"What are my plans? What use is there in going to Croyden?"

It was a hard question to answer.

Still, he must go somewhere. He could not go to St. Louis without money, and there was a bare possibility that he might find something to do in Croyden. If he could earn a few dollars he could go on, and once in a large city there would be hope of permanent employment.

How different would have been his situation if he had not lost his money, and how unfortunate it was that he should have been set down at this dismal place!

He kept on, meeting no one.

Finally he came to a place where the road divided into two forks or branches, one leading to the right, the other to the left.

"Which shall I take?" he asked himself.

There seemed no choice so far as he could see. Neither was very promising, nor was there any sign-post to inform him of what he wished to know.

"I wish somebody would come along," thought Jasper.

But nobody did.

Forced to decide, he decided in favor of the left-hand road, and walked on.

After a while he began to suspect that he had made a wrong decision. The road became little more than a lane, and seemed unfrequented. But just as he was going to turn back he espied at some distance from the road a rude dwelling, which, from its weather-beaten appearance, seemed never to have been painted.

"I can find out something there, at any rate," thought Jasper, and he bent his steps toward it.

Brief time brought him in front of the house. It was certainly a quiet-looking place.

"It must be dismal to live here," thought Jasper.

He knocked with his fist at the door. On account of the smallness of the house the knock certainly must have been heard, but there was no response.

"The people must be deaf," thought Jasper.

He knocked again, this time considerably louder, and waited for some one to answer his summons.

He waited in vain.

"It must be a deserted house," thought our hero. "I have a great mind to explore it—that is, if I can get in."

He tried the door, and, a little to his surprise, it yielded to his touch. The door being in the centre of the house, there was a room on each side. The door to the left; opened into a room which was quite bare of furniture. On the other side, however, was a room containing a table and three chairs. On the table was a dirty clay-pipe and a box of tobacco, and there was a dead odor of tobacco-smoke lingering in the closely-shut room.

"That looks as if there were somebody living here," thought Jasper.

"Halloo!" he shouted, raising his voice.

He felt that it would be better to make his presence known, as otherwise he might be suspected of entering the house with burglarious designs, though it would have puzzled a burglar to find anything worth purloining.

"There can't be anybody in the house or I should have been heard," thought our hero. "However, I'll call again."

This time there was a faint sound that came to his ears. It seemed like the voice of a child.

"Where did that come from?" Jasper considered.

And he waited to hear if it would be repeated.

It was repeated, and now he could make out that it came from above.

"I'll go up," he decided.

He climbed the rude staircase, and pushed open the door of the room above the one in which he had been standing a moment before. He gazed in wonder at the spectacle before him.

A boy, five years of age, who in spite of his frightened expression possessed great personal beauty, was lying on a bed in one corner of the room. He looked at Jasper in uncertainty at first, then with confidence, and said:

"Did you come for me?"

"Do you live here?" asked Jasper, in surprise, for this boy was not at all like the children usually to be found in such houses as this.

His complexion was of dazzling whiteness, his hair was a bright chestnut, and his clothing was such as wealthy parents can afford to give to their children.

"Do you live here?" repeated Jasper.

"No," said the child.

"How came you here, then?"

"Big man—big, ugly man brought me."

"When?"

"I don't know," said the child.

He was evidently too young to measure the lapse of time.

"Was it yesterday?"

"No; long ago."

"I suppose it seems long to him," thought Jasper.

"Is there nobody else in the house?" asked Jasper.

"There's a woman," said the little boy.

"Is she the wife of the man who took you away?"

But this question the little boy did not seem to comprehend.

"Have you got a mother?" asked Jasper.

"Take me to mamma," said the little fellow, stretching out his arms, and beginning to cry. "I want to see my mamma."

Jasper advanced to the bed.

He began to understand that the boy had been kidnapped, and he felt great compassion for him.

He tried to raise the boy from the bed and take him in his arms, when he made an unexpected discovery.

The boy's ankles were firmly tied by a rope, which connected with the bedpost, so that it was impossible for him to leave the bed.

"Who did this?" asked Jasper, indignantly. "Who tied you?"

"It was the man—the big, ugly man," answered the child.

"I will soon unfasten you," said Jasper, and he set to work untying the knot.

"Will you take me home?" asked the little boy.

"Yes," said Jasper, soothingly, "I'll take you home."

But just as he had completed his task he heard steps upon the stairs. What if it were the man of whom the child spoke!

Jasper threw one arm around the child, and with his teeth set hard fixed his eyes expectantly upon the door.



CHAPTER XVIII.

THE KIDNAPPED CHILD.

The woman who entered was of middle size, dressed in a cheap print, dirty and faded, which corresponded very well with her general aspect. She looked weary and worn, and moved languidly as if she had little interest in life. She looked startled at the sight of Jasper, and pressed her hand to her heart.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"A stranger," answered our hero.

"How came you here?"

"I suppose I ought to apologize for being here, but I knocked twice and got no answer. That made me think the house was deserted. I entered, and hearing a low cry, came to this room."

The woman sank into a chair near the door.

"Is this your child?" asked Jasper, in his turn.

The woman answered hesitatingly, after a pause:

"No."

"I knew he could not be. How did he come here?'

"My husband brought him here," answered the woman, with some hesitation.

"Is he any relation to you?"

"N-no."

"Is he boarding here?"

"Yes."

The woman's hesitation increased Jasper's suspicion. He said:

"I found the boy tied to the bedpost. Did you tie him?"

"Yes."

"Why did you do that?"

"I thought he might slip off while I was out I went out for some water. That is the reason I did not answer your knock."

"Madam," said Jasper, coming to the point, "you may answer me or not; but if you do, tell the truth. Was not this child stolen?"

The woman looked nervous and frightened, and moved restlessly in her chair.

"Don't blame me," she said. "It wasn't my fault."

"Whose was it, then?"

"It was my husband's."

"Then the child was stolen?"

"Yes."

"I suppose your husband kidnapped the child in order to get money from the parents for his return?"

"Yes," the woman admitted.

"How can you assist him in such wicked practices?"

"What can I do?" said the woman, helplessly. "I have spoken to him, but it does no good. He won't heed anything that I say."

Jasper began to pity the poor woman. It looked as if she were an unwilling helper in her husband's crimes.

"Do you know where your husband got this boy from?" he asked.

"No; he didn't tell me."

"Is this the first child he has kidnapped?"

"I ought not to speak against my husband," said the woman, uneasily, appearing to think that she had already told too much.

"Yes, you ought. Otherwise you will be as bad as he."

"He will beat me."

"Does he ever do that?" asked Jasper, compassionately.

"He is very rough sometimes," said the wife, shrinking.

"I am sorry for you," said Jasper, gently. "Where is your husband now?"

"He went out this morning. Perhaps he is hunting. He never tells me where he is going."

"When do you expect him back?"

"I can't tell. He may be here in five minutes; he may not be here before night."

"In that case," thought Jasper, "I had better be off as soon as possible. I should be no match for this brute in human form. Judging from what I have heard of him, he would kill me without scruple if he thought I were interfering with his plans."

"How long has this child been here?" he asked.

"Three or four days."

"I am going to take him away," proceeded Jasper, fixing his eyes earnestly upon the woman, to see how she took the proposal.

"No, no!" she exclaimed, quickly. "My husband won't allow it."

"He won't know it."

"It won't do," she continued, rapidly. "He would kill you if he overtook you."

This was a serious consideration, truly. Jasper had no weapons, and a boy of his age would have been a poor match for a strong man, as the kidnapper probably was.

"After all, I had better not interfere," he thought. "It can do no good, and will only expose me to great danger."

But just at this instant the little boy's soft hand slid into his, and he could not resist the touching appeal for his protection.

"I shall take the risk," he said. "I can't leave the boy here. I will try to find his parents and restore him to them."

He had scarcely said this when the woman, who had casually glanced out of the window, started up in alarm, exclaiming:

"There is my husband coming! Oh, what shall we do?"



CHAPTER XIX.

A BRUTE IN HUMAN SHAPE.

Jasper could not help feeling that he was in rather a critical position. A man whose business it was to kidnap young children in order to extort money from their friends was not likely to be very scrupulous, and the fear of having his secret divulged might lead him to extreme measures.

"Is your husband likely to come up here?" he asked.

"I don't know; he may," answered the woman, anxiously.

"Can't you hide me?" suggested Jasper.

"Yes, yes," she said, recovering something of her presence of mind. "There, get into that closet. I'll come and let you out when he is gone."

She opened the door of a closet in one corner of the room. It was quite dark inside, and except a stool, it was entirely empty.

"Sit down there," said the woman. "I must go down now."

She buttoned the door, and our hero found himself a close prisoner in the dark. It certainly gave him a peculiar sensation. Only a week before he had been at his Eastern home. Now he was more than a thousand miles away, penniless, and a prisoner. But though he was peculiarly situated, he was not discouraged. In fact, with a brave boy's love of adventure, he felt a certain exhilaration and wondered what was coming next. His courage and enterprise rose with the occasion, and he began to consider what course he should take after he got out.

While he is sitting in the closet in dark captivity, we will go below and make acquaintance with the man whose arrival had produced so great a sensation.

Before going down, the woman said to the child:

"Don't tell anybody about the boy in the closet."

"No, I won't," said the child, obediently.

The woman hurried down stairs, but her husband was already waiting for her.

He was a black-browed ruffian, with a rough beard of a week's growth. He threw himself sullenly into a chair and growled:

"Where were you? You're always out of the way when I come home."

"I just went up stairs a minute, Dick," she answered.

"To see the brat, I suppose."

"Yes."

"I've a great mind to knock him on the head."

"Oh, Dick, you wouldn't injure the little innocent," she said, earnestly.

"Wouldn't I? I would if I was paid enough, but there's nothing to be made by killing him."

"Thank heaven!" uttered the woman, fervently.

"You haven't got the heart of a chicken!" said the man, contemptuously. "Give me something to eat. I'm hungry."

The woman began to bustle around in obedience to his command.

"I haven't got much in the house, Dick," she said, apologetically.

"What have you got?" he growled.

"Some eggs and a little bacon. Shall I make you some tea?"

"No; bring out the whisky."

"There's none left, Dick."

The man uttered an oath expressive of disappointment.

"Well, give me some slops, then," he said. "I must have something to drink."

"Didn't you shoot anything?" she ventured to ask.

"I haven't been hunting."

"I thought you took out your gun."

"What if I did? I don't always hunt when I take my gun. I expected to hear from the friends of that brat this morning, but I didn't. They must hurry up with their money if they don't want me to strangle him."

"Perhaps they didn't get your letter, Dick."

"Yes, they did. I took care of that. I s'pose they're hatching up some plot to have me arrested. If they do, it'll be a bad day for the brat."

He looked fierce and brutal enough to execute the dark threat at which he indirectly hinted. There was a cruel look in his eye which showed that he would have had small scruples about injuring an innocent child, if provoked by the desire for revenge.

While his wife was cooking the eggs he filled his pipe and began to smoke. She made all the haste she could, knowing that her husband was far from patient. Soon the frugal repast was ready. She set it on the table, and said:

"It's all ready, Dick. Better eat it while it's hot."

"I'll eat it when I choose," he growled, in his usual spirit of contradiction.

However, he was hungry, and laying aside his pipe, did as she requested. Soon he had dispatched all the food set before him.

"There isn't enough to keep a kitten from starving," he said.

"I'm sorry, Dick."

"Much you are sorry," he growled. "A pretty wife you are."

"I wish there were more. If you'll give me some money I'll go out and buy something."

"Money!" he snarled. "You're always wanting money. Do you think I am made of money?"

"No, Dick; but you know I have none. I wish I knew of any way to earn it."

"You do?"

"Yes, Dick."

"Then I suppose you'd be leaving me," he said, suspiciously.

"No, I wouldn't. You know I wouldn't, Dick."

"So you say," he answered, brutally, "How's the brat? Has it been crying?"

"No; it is a very good child."

"I'll go up and take a look at it."

He arose from his seat, and advanced toward the door.

His wife followed him.

"Where are you going?" he asked, turning upon her.

"I'm going up, too," she answered, meekly.

"What for? Can't you trust me with the brat?"

"Yes, Dick, but it isn't much used to you. You might frighten it, and make it cry."

"That's all right," he answered, smiling grimly. "I like to hear children cry."

"How can you enjoy the sufferings of a child?"

"Halloo! What's that?" he said, looking sharply at her. "You dare to find fault with me, do you?"

"I didn't mean that, Dick," she said, submissively.

"It's lucky you didn't," he said, warningly. "I don't allow none of that, wife or no wife."

"May I go up?"

"If you want to."

So the two went up stairs together.

The wife was nervous lest the child in some way might excite the suspicions of her husband and betray the presence of Jasper. She felt, therefore, very ill at ease.

The child was sitting up in bed.

"Halloo, young 'un, how yer gettin' along?" asked the man, roughly.

The child did not answer, but looked frightened.

"Why don't you answer?" demanded the man, frowning.

The child looked toward the woman, and seemed on the point of crying.

"Can't you say something to the gentleman?" said the woman, soothingly.

Thus adjured, the little boy said:

"Won't you take me to my mamma?"

"Oh, yes, I'll take you as soon as your mamma sends me some money," said the man named Dick, "and she'd better do it pretty soon, too," he muttered.

He threw himself into a chair, and ceased to notice the child.

"Do you know, old woman," he said in a different tone, "I've heard news that'll rather take you by suprise?"

"I hope it is good news," said his wife, anxiously.

"Well, that's as may be," he answered. "It ought to be good news for us, but there's no saying. You know my sister?"

"Mrs. Thorne?"

"Yes. Well, she's had a stroke of luck."

"How was that?"

"Well, you see she went as governess into a family. The man was rich and an invalid—a widower, too. What does she do but get him to marry her?"

"She has been fortunate."

"That isn't all of it. She hadn't been married but two or three months when her husband died, leaving her a third of his property and guardian to his son, who inherits the rest. So she's a rich woman. I say she ought to do something for her brother Dick. Don't you say so?"

"I think she would be willing," said the wife.

"She ought to be, but she's selfish. She always was. If only I had the money I'd go East, and see what I could get out of her."

"You'd take me with you, Dick?"

"No, I wouldn't. It'll be all I can do to raise money enough to pay my own expenses, let alone yours. If I get anything I'll come back, and you'll get your share. That's why I want the parents of that brat to fork over the cash pretty quick."

"How did you learn the news about your sister, Dick?"

"An old pal of mine has just come from that way and told me all about it."

Every word of this dialogue was beard by Jasper in his place of concealment. He was astonished beyond measure to learn that this ruffian was the brother of his step-mother.

"No wonder I don't like her," he thought, "if they have any traits in common. What a fate, for my kind and gentle father to marry the sister of such a man!"

"I'm glad of it," said his wife.

"Well, so am I, if she'll do the right thing by me; but if she don't, then I'm sorry."

"What shall I do when you're away, Dick?"

"Get along as well as you can. Folks'll give you victuals, if you get hard up."

"I don't like to beg."

"Wish me good luck, then, and money enough to take care of you. What are you starin' at, young 'un?"

This he said to the child, whose eyes, as if by a species of fascination, were fixed upon him.

"Take me home to mamma!" pleaded the child, beginning to cry.

"Shut up!" said the ruffian, harshly, striding to the bed and pinching the boy's arm till he cried with the pain.

"Oh, don't, Dick," pleaded the woman, who was fond of children, though she had never been a mother.

"I'll give the brat something to cry for," said her husband, and he pinched him again.

"Oh, Dick, how can you torture the poor child?" said his wife, braver in the little boy's defence than in her own.

"What business has it to cry, then? I'd like to choke it. If you don't hush I'll serve you the same way."

Jasper had listened to this brutality as long as he could, but his indignation became too hot to be repressed. Thoughtless of consequences, he burst open the closet door and strode into the presence of the astonished ruffian, his fists involuntarily clenched, and his eyes kindling with indignation.



CHAPTER XX.

A STRANGE COMMISSION.

The man whom we have called Dick stopped short and gazed in astonishment at the boy who had so fearlessly stepped upon the scene.

"Where did you come from?" he demanded, frowning.

"From that closet," answered Jasper.

"How came you there? What business have you in my house, anyway?" demanded the ruffian.

"I entered it supposing it to be deserted," said Jasper. "While I was below I heard that poor boy cry, and came up."

"Did you know he was here?" asked the ruffian, turning to his wife, and speaking menacingly.

"Yes, Dick."

"Why did you let him in?"

"He came in while I was out."

"Why didn't you tell me he was here?"

"Because I didn't want him injured in any way. I was afraid you would be angry with him."

"That is where you are right," said Dick, adding an oath. "The young scoundrel shall pay for his impudence in entering my house like a thief."

"You have no right to say that," said Jasper. "I have explained to you why I came here."

"You hid in the closet, intending to come out and steal when we were out of the way."

"What could I steal?" asked Jasper, looking around him.

"Do you mean to taunt me with my poverty?" exclaimed the ruffian, enraged.

"No; I am poorer than you."

"You look like it."

"It is true. I was robbed in the cars by a pickpocket, and because I was penniless and could not pay my fare I was put off at this station."

"Is this true?" demanded Dick, with a searching look.

"Yes; I wish it were not."

"How came you near this house?"

"I set out to walk to the village, and must have lost my way."

"Why did you come out of that closet?" was the next demand.

"Because I heard you abusing that little boy," said Jasper, fearlessly.

"I have a right to do what I please to my own child."

"It isn't your child."

"What do you mean by that, you impudent young jackanapes?"

Unobserved by her husband, the wife made a warning sign to Jasper not to provoke the man, whose evil passion she so well knew.

Jasper comprehended the sign, but it did not influence him. Frank and fearless by temperament, he thought it his duty to stand between the little boy and this ruffian's brutality. Still he appreciated the woman's kindness, and resolved to bear it in mind. Indeed, he saw that she was rather to be pitied than blamed. Her natural instincts were good, but she was under the control of a bad man.

"I heard what you were saying," said Jasper.

"You heard?"

"Yes, while I was in the closet."

"What did you hear, you young scoundrel?" demanded the ruffian.

"Enough to satisfy me that you have stolen this boy from his parents."

"It's a lie!"

"No; it is the truth. I felt sure of it before, and now I know it. You took him in order to extort money from his friends."

"Well," said the ruffian, defiantly, "what if I did? Have you anything to say against it?"

"Yes," said Jasper.

"I shall have to wring your neck by and by," muttered Dick. "Well, go on. Spit out what you've got to say."

"I say it's a cruel wrong to the parents," said Jasper, boldly, "and to the child also. But you make it worse when you try to abuse the boy."

"Come, boy, if you care so much for the brat, suppose you take his place, and take the beating I was going to give him," suggested the ruffian, mockingly.

"I would rather suffer than have him suffer," said Jasper, quietly; "but perhaps you will change your mind when you hear what I have to say."

"Oh, you are going to beg off!" sneered the ruffian, with a look of satisfaction. "I thought you'd come to your senses."

"You are mistaken as to my intention. I want to speak to you about your sister—formerly Mrs. Thorne."

"What do you know about her?" asked the man, in extreme astonishment.

"A good deal. She is my step-mother."

"What! Are you the son of the man she married?" asked Dick, eagerly.

"I am Jasper Kent."

"That's the name. So she sent you out to me, did she? That's better than I thought She hasn't forgotten her brother, after all."

"No; you are mistaken," said Jasper. "She never so much as told me she had a brother."

Dick looked disappointed. Then, with sudden suspicion, he said, roughly:

"I believe you are lying. This Jasper Kent is rich—the heir of two-thirds of his father's property. You say you are penniless."

"That is true. Both stories are true. I am my father's principal heir, but your sister is my guardian. She has treated me in such a way that I left the house."

"Ran away, eh?"

"No, I gave her full notice of what I should do. I told her that if I were decently treated I would stay, but if she continued to insult me, and give the preference in all things to her own boy, Nicholas, I would go away."

"You haven't been such a fool as to go off and leave all your property in her hands?"

"I shall come in possession of it when I am twenty-one. Till then I will try to support myself."

"Come, boy, you're plucky. I'm glad you came, after all. I want to hear more about my sister's affairs. Come down stairs, and we'll talk."

Dick appeared suddenly to have forgotten his animosity. He became even friendly in his manner, as he gave our hero this invitation.

"Old woman," said he, addressing his wife, "can't you rake up something for this boy to eat? I dare say he is hungry."

"I don't think we've got anything more in the house."

"I'll go out directly and get something. Come down, boy, I want to ask you a few more questions."

They went down stairs, followed by the wife. She was happily relieved by the unexpected good understanding between her husband and Jasper.

"Now tell me," said Dick, eagerly, when they were in the lower room, "how much property has my sister got?"

"Probably between thirty and forty thousand dollars."

"As much as that?" said Dick, complacently. "Well, she has feathered her nest well."

"I don't like Mrs. Kent," said Jasper. "Though she is your sister, I am obliged to say that, but it is not at all on account of the property my father left her. If he had given her one-half his estate I would not have complained, as long as she treated me fairly."

"Helen was always a hard customer. She's got a will of her own," chuckled Dick.

"There was no hope of our getting on together," said Jasper.

"She ought to do something for me—don't you think so? I'm her only brother."

"As to that," said Jasper, "my opinion wouldn't have any weight with her. If you are poor and need help, it would be only natural for her to help you."

"That's the way to talk! You won't say anything against me to her?"

"Certainly not," said Jasper. "I shall not write to her at all; and even if I did, I wouldn't try to interfere with her disposing of her property in any way she thinks best."

"Come, you're a trump, after all. I like you. You're plucky, too."

"Thank you."

"I'll say a good word for you to my sister when I see her."

"You'd better not," said Jasper. "If she thinks you are friendly to me you'll stand a poor chance of any favors. Better abuse me."

Dick roared with laughter.

"I say, youngster, you're a smart 'un. I see you're friendly by your hint. I'll abuse you to her, never fear. You must take a drink on that. Say, old woman, where's the whisky?"

"There's not a drop in the house, Dick."

"I forgot. Curse the luck!"

Just then a man entered the house only less brutal-looking than Dick himself.

He held a letter in his hand.

Dick seized it eagerly.

"It's from the father of the boy," he said.

The letter proved to contain fifty dollars.

"I send this in advance," said the writer. "When the boy is safely delivered into my hands a hundred and fifty more will be paid to the one who brings him, and no questions asked. Herman Fitch."

"Good!" said Dick, "as far as it goes. I'm ready to give up the brat, but will his father keep faith? Perhaps he'll have the police on hand ready to nab me."

"Haven't you anybody to send—anybody you can trust?"

Dick slapped his knee forcibly. An idea had come to him.

"I'll send him in charge of the brat," he said, pointing to Jasper.



CHAPTER XXI.

JASPER IS INTRUSTED WITH A DELICATE COMMISSION.

"Look here, boy," said Dick, "do you want a job?"

"Yes," said Jasper, "if it's honest."

"No fear of that. I want you to take that boy home to his father."

"I'll do it," said Jasper, eagerly.

"How much pay do you want?"

"None at all, except money to pay my fare in the cars."

"You're the right sort," said Dick, with satisfaction. "But there's another matter I've got to think about. How do I know but you will betray me?"

"How?"

"Put the police on my track."

"If you hadn't given up the boy I might," said Jasper, frankly.

Dick regarded him attentively.

"You're bold," he said. "Then you won't betray me now."

"No."

"Promise it."

"I promise—that is, if you send the boy home by me."

"All right; that's understood. Now for another matter. Read that letter."

Jasper read the letter of Herman Fitch, already quoted.

"You see this man, the boy's father, agrees to pay one hundred and fifty dollars when he is given up."

"I see that."

"He will give you that money—that is, if he means fair—and you will bring it to me. Do you understand?"

"I do."

"Do you promise that?"

"I promise that, too. Where am I to find you? Here?"

"No; I'll give you an address in St. Louis."

"Does the father live in St. Louis?"

"He lives a little out of the city. His name is in the directory, so you won't have any trouble in finding it."

"How glad he will be to see the little boy again!"

"He ought to be. You don't think he'll back out from his agreement?" said Dick, suspiciously.

"No; he'll be so glad to see the child, he will care nothing for the money."

"That's what I hope. When I get that money I'm going East."

"You'll take me with you, Dick?" asked his wife.

"What good'll you be?" growled Dick. "It'll cost more."

"What can I do alone, here?"

"I'll leave money for your board."

"But I'll be so lonely, Dick," she persisted.

"Oh, I'll come back! It's business I'm going for, old woman. If I can't come back I'll send money to bring you."

"Do let me go with you, Dick."

"Oh, hush up! I can't have you always in my way. What, blubbering? Plague take all the women, I say!"

"When do you want me to go?" said Jasper.

"There's a train this afternoon; take that, for the sooner matters are arranged the better. Here's five dollars. It'll be more than enough to pay your fare, but you'd better have it in case anything happens."

Jasper felt some repugnance in taking money acquired in such a way, but it seemed necessary, and he thrust the note into his vest-pocket.

"You'll be able to carry the boy back to-night," said Dick. "To-morrow at twelve bring the money to this address."

He handed him a greasy-looking card with the name "Mark Mortimer, No. 132 S—— Street," scrawled on it in pencil.

"Am I to ask for Mark Mortimer?" asked Jasper.

"Yes, that's me—that is, it's one of my names. Don't fail."

"I won't."

"If you should play me false, you'd better never have been born," said the kidnapper, menacingly.

"I'll come, not on account of your threats, but because I have promised," said Jasper, quietly.

"You're a plucky boy. You ain't one of the milk-and-water sort," said Dick, with respect for the boy's courage.

"Thank you," said Jasper, laughing. "I am not often afraid."

"By Jove! you've got more pluck than half the men. You'd make a fine lad for my business."

"I don't think I'd like your business, so far as I know what it is," said Jasper.

"Well, there's some I'd like better myself. If my sister does the right thing by me I'll become a model citizen—run for Congress, may be. Eh, old woman?"

"I wish you would reform, Dick," said his wife.

"Let the world give me a chance, then. Now, boy, you must be starting."

"Harry," said Jasper to the little boy, whose name he had learned, "do you want to go with me?"

The little boy confidingly put his arms round our hero's neck.

"Will you take me to my mamma?" he asked.

"Yes, I will take you to her."

The little boy uttered a cry of delight.

"Me all ready!" he said, eagerly.

"Do you think he can walk to the depot?" asked Jasper.

"Yes; it is only a mile or so."

"Then I will start."

Part of the way he carried the little boy in his arms. They could make but slow progress, but luckily there was plenty of time, and they reached the depot a quarter of an hour before the train started.

The station-master looked at the two with curiosity.

"Is that boy yours?"

"He isn't my son, if that's what you mean," said Jasper, amused.

"Brother, then?"

"No; he's a friend of mine that I'm taking home to his father and mother."

"Been makin' a visit around here?" asked the station-master.

"Yes," replied Jasper, briefly.

The arrival of two passengers, who wanted tickets, relieved him from the questions of the curious station-master. He might have asked questions which it would have been inconvenient to answer.

"Did you ever ride in the cars, Harry?" asked Jasper.

"I did ride in the cars when the ugly man took me from my mamma."

"Was that the only time?"

The little boy could remember no other.

Jasper led him a little away, to avoid questioning, but was back in time to enter the cars when the train arrived. He found a vacant seat, and gave the little boy the place next the window. There were many admiring glances directed toward the little fellow, who was remarkably handsome. Jasper was apprehensive lest the boy should be recognized by some one who knew him. This would have brought suspicion upon him, and placed him in a very embarrassing position. Fortunately, though the child's appearance was much admired, no such recognition took place.

Two hours later they rolled into the central depot at St. Louis.

"Now," thought Jasper, "I must find out as soon as possible where Mr. Fitch lives."

Jasper had not been much of a traveller, as we know. Finding himself now in a strange city, he felt at first a little bewildered—the more so, that he had a young child under his charge. He did not know in which direction the boy's father lived, but the natural thought occurred to him that he could find his name in the directory. He went into a lager-beer saloon near-by and asked:

"Will you let me see your directory?"

"I got no directory," answered the burly Dutchman, who presided over the saloon. "I can give you lager."

"Not at present," said Jasper, laughing. "We don't drink."

It occurred to him that it might be as well to get into the central part of the city. He accordingly hailed a passing car, and got aboard with Harry.

After awhile he judged from the appearance of the buildings that he had reached one of the principal streets. He descended from the car, lifting Harry carefully down and carrying him in his arms to the sidewalk. There was a large and imposing store situated at the corner of the street.

"They must have a directory in there," thought Jasper.

He entered, holding the little boy by the hand. What was his surprise when a richly-dressed lady, turning and catching sight of the child, sprang to him, seized him in her arms, and began to cry and laugh alternately. But the mystery was explained when he heard Harry say:

"Oh, mamma, I am so glad to see you!"



CHAPTER XXII.

A BUSINESS MAN'S SUSPICIONS.

Jasper stood at a little distance, witnessing the happy meeting between the mother and child. He did not wish to interrupt their happiness. Soon, however, the mother looked up, and then Jasper advanced, raising his hat, politely.

"Is this Mrs. Fitch?" he asked.

"Yes," said the lady, surveying him with curiosity.

"Then I have great pleasure in restoring to you your child."

"What? Did he come with you?"

"Yes, madam."

"Did you know I was in here?"

"No; I only came in to consult the directory to learn your residence."

"How could you be so wicked as to steal my boy?" demanded Mrs. Fitch, with pardonable indignation, judging that Jasper was the kidnapper.

"I wouldn't have done it for five thousand dollars!" said Jasper, impetuously.

"He didn't 'teal me, mamma," said little Harry, coming opportunely to Jasper's defense.

"Who did, then, my darling?"

"It was big, ugly man. Jasper good boy—kind to Harry."

Mrs. Fitch, prompt to remedy her injustice, held out her hand to Jasper, which he took respectfully.

"Excuse me," she said; "but I thought, as Harry was with you, that you had been concerned in his kidnapping."

"I never saw him till this morning," said Jasper. "Chance drew me to a lonely house where he was confined."

"And you rescued him! How can I thank you?"

"I would have done so if I could, but I can't take the credit of it. Your husband offered a reward, which the kidnapper thought best to accept. He did not dare to bring him back himself, and having no one else to employ, asked me to become his agent in restoring him. Of course, I was very glad to do it."

"It was not chance that directed you to the haunt of these wicked men; it was a good and merciful Providence. Did they ill-treat my darling?"

"I found him tied to the bed in which he was lying."

"How could they treat you so my dear boy!" said the mother, piteously. "May I ask your name?"

This was, of course, addressed to Jasper.

"My name is Jasper Kent."

"Can you come out and stop at our house over night? We live about two miles distant. I want my husband to see you and thank you for bringing back our darling boy."

Jasper reflected that he must see Mr. Fitch, at any rate, in order to obtain the promised reward. Moreover, he had no means of his own to pay for a lodging, and he promptly accepted the offer.

"I will return home at once," said Mrs. Fitch. "I came in to make some purchases, but I can't think of those now. Come, Mr. Kent."

"Take hold of my hand," said little Harry to Jasper.

Jasper smilingly took the proffered hand, and Harry, happy in the double companionship, went out of the store.

There was a handsome carriage in waiting, with a coachman in livery perched on the box.

"Edward," said Mrs. Fitch, her face fairly glowing with delight, "do you see? Little Harry has come back."

"So he has, Heaven bless him!" said the coachman, heartily. "How do you do, Master Harry?"

"I'm pooty well," answered the little boy.

"Where did you find him, ma'am, if I may be so bold?"

"This young gentleman brought him back, Edward. Now, drive right home."

"Won't you go around to the office, ma'am, and tell master?"

"No; he must have left the office by this time. We shall see him at supper to-night."

Half an hour later the carriage drew up in front of a handsome residence, far enough from the centre of the city to have a side yard of considerable dimensions, in the rear of which stood a brick stable. It was clear that Mr. Fitch was a man of wealth, so Jasper decided.

Of the sensation produced in the house by Harry's arrival I will not speak. Jasper found himself regarded in the light of the heroic deliverer of the little boy from captivity, though he laughingly disclaimed the credit attaching to such a character.

They had been home but fifteen minutes when Mr. Fitch arrived. At the moment of his arrival Jasper was in a handsome chamber on the second floor, which had been assigned to his use, preparing himself for dinner. Mr. Fitch was overjoyed at the recovery of his little boy, but he listened with some incredulity to the praises lavished upon Jasper by his wife.

"You don't seem to realize," he said, "that this young hero of yours is a companion and acknowledged agent of a kidnapper."

"Wait till you see him," said Mrs. Fitch, confidently.

Mr. Fitch shrugged his shoulders.

"How the women are carried away by a specious appearance!" he thought. "I am a man of the world, and cooler in my judgment."

Yet when Jasper entered the room he could not help acknowledging that his appearance was very much in his favor. Frank and manly in his looks, he met Mr. Fitch with gentlemanly ease.

"You are the young gentleman who brought back my little boy, I believe," said the father.

"Yes, sir," said Jasper. "I occupy, for the time being, the office of agent of the man who kidnapped him."

"Who is this man?"

"I should be willing to tell you if I had not promised secrecy."

"Then," said Mr. Fitch, with slight suspicion, "you are in confidential relations with this villain."

"Partly so, but it was forced upon me. I never met him till to-day, and he confided in me because there seemed to be no one else that he could trust."

"Why did he not come himself?"

"Because he thought it would be dangerous."

"Shall you meet him again?"

"Once only, to finish this business. He said you had promised a certain sum on the boy's return, and this I agreed to carry him."

"How much commission are you to receive?" inquired Mr. Fitch.

"Nothing at all," said Jasper. "He handed me five dollars to pay the railroad fare of little Harry and myself to St. Louis. What is left over I shall return to him."

"Then Harry was not concealed in this city?"

"No, sir; but he was at no great distance from it."

"Are you living here?"

"I never was in St. Louis until this afternoon. I have only just come on from the State of New York."

"To find employment, I suppose?"

"Yes, sir. It was by the merest chance that I fell over your little boy and his captor. I was contriving plans for getting him away, when fortunately the kidnapper received a communication from you which led to my being here."

"Suppose you had got Harry away from this man, how could you have found me?"

"That would have been the difficulty. I didn't know your name, or where you lived. But I meant to come here and get one of the daily papers to publish an account of the recovery, in the hope that the paragraph would find its way to your notice."

"A very sensible plan," commented Mr. Fitch, approvingly. "When have you agreed to meet the kidnapper to carry him the money?"

"To-morrow at twelve."

"And then you will proceed to carry out your own plans?"

"Yes, sir. After supper, if you can spare the time, I will tell you my situation, and the circumstances that led me here, and ask for advice."

"Very well. I will gladly give you the best counsel I can."

After supper Jasper told his story briefly, and confirmed the favorable impression he had already begun to make. Mr. Fitch cast aside his lingering remnant of suspicion, and promised his good offices in procuring him employment.

"After you have seen this man and paid him the money," he said, "come to my counting-room, and we will talk over your affairs."

The evening was spent socially, little Harry, of course, being the central object of interest. The little fellow appeared to have taken a great fancy to Jasper, and was unwilling to have him go the next day. He was not reconciled till Jasper promised to come back.



CHAPTER XXIII.

WHERE JASPER FOUND DICK.

To find the address given by the kidnapper was not difficult. It was only necessary to look over a plan of the city, which Jasper did in Mr. Fitch's counting-room.

"Come back when your business is over," said the merchant.

"I will," said Jasper.

He set out with one hundred and fifty dollars in his pocket for 132 S—— Street.

We will precede him.

It was a shabby house of two stories, with a wide front. It looked dilapidated and neglected, but except that it was in an unsavory neighborhood there was nothing to draw attention to it, or lead to the impression that it was the haunt of lawbreakers and desperate characters.

In a back room sat three men, one of whom we recognize as the kidnapper, Dick, alias Mark Mortimer. Of the other two, one was under twenty-five, with a reckless, dare-devil look, as of one who would stop at little in his criminal schemes. He had more than once been engaged in burglary, but as yet had escaped detection.

The third was a stout, square-built man, of middle age, with a heavy, brutal face, such as might belong to a prize-fighter. He, too, was a burglar, an accomplished counterfeiter, a gambler, who supplemented luck by various swindling devices, in which he was an adept. This man was known as Slippery Bill, while his young companion was Jack, with a choice of last names.

The three men were playing a game of euchre, with a pack of greasy cards. The time was half-past eleven in the forenoon.

"It's most time for the boy to come," said Dick, looking toward the clock.

"How do you know but he'll give you the slip?" suggested Jack.

"If he did I'd break his neck!" exclaimed Dick, hastily. "But he won't. Leastways he won't if he can help it."

"It strikes me, Dick," said Bill, "that you ought never to have asked him to come here."

"Why not?"

"Who's to tell but he may bring company?" continued the stout man.

"What kind of company?"

"The police."

"He won't," said Dick.

"How do you know?"

"I'll trust him. He's a good 'un."

"How long have you known him, that you speak with so much confidence?" inquired the younger man.

"Since yesterday morning," answered Dick, cornered.

The two men burst into a boisterous laugh.

"Why, Dick, you're as innocent as a baby. You haven't knowed this chap more'n twenty-four hours, and you'll stake your life on him."

"Laugh as much as you like," said Dick, stubbornly. "I ought to speak up for my own nephew."

"Your nephew!" exclaimed his two companions, in surprise. "What do you mean?"

"What I say. He's my sister's son."

"A minute ago you said you never saw him till yesterday," said the stout man, suspiciously.

"No more I did. My sister lives at the East."

"Has she sent him to you to be brought up in the way he should go?" asked Jack, with a sneer.

"No; the boy's run away. He came across me by chance."

"That's better," said Bill, partially reassured. "He won't be likely to betray you—not now—but he may inform against this place."

"I'll answer for him."

"Are you going to let him go as soon as he brings the money, or will he stay with you?"

"Oh, he'll go. I can't take care of a lad like him. I've other fish to fry."

"Suppose we keep him and train him up to our business?"

"He ain't the right sort for that."

"Shows the white feather, eh?"

"No; he's as brave as any boy I ever saw."

"What's the matter, then?"

"He's too honest and virtuous."

"What! your nephew, Dick?" and the two men laughed loudly. "That's too thin. Don't ask us to swallow that."

"It's true."

"Why did he run away from home, then?"

"My sister's got a very rough temper—that's why."

"We can believe that," said Jack, "better than the other."

"Look here, Jack," said Dick, who was getting irritated, "you may find that I've got the same kind of temper if you keep on badgering me about the boy. I say he's to be trusted."

"He can be trusted under our eye. Have you any objection to our detaining him?"

"There's no need."

"I say there is. You've let him into the knowledge of this place. He'll blow on us some day."

"Do as you like," said Dick; "I don't care. I wash my hands of the responsibility."

"That's all we want," said Bill. "We need a young one to help us in our plans. If this nephew of yours is as brave as you say, he'll do. What time was he to come here?"

"Twelve."

"Then it's a minute past the time. I don't think he'll come."

"The clock may be wrong." said Dick, but he glanced uneasily at the clock, which now indicated a little past the hour.

His suspense was not a long one.

An old man, thin and shriveled, with a crafty eye, and a thin, squeaking voice, here put his head in at the door.

"Is Mr. Mark Mortimer here?" he asked.

"That's me!" exclaimed Dick, jumping up eagerly.

"There's a boy wants to see you, Mr. Mark Mortimer," said the old man, repeating the name as if he enjoyed it.

"It's my nephew," said Dick.

"Is his name Mortimer, too?" asked the proprietor of the establishment, for such the old man was.

"Never mind," said Dick, impatiently. "Bring the boy in."

Almost directly Jasper was ushered into the room—fearlessly, but looking about him with some curiosity.

The two men, who had not before seen him, surveyed him with equal curiosity.

"He does you credit," said the stout man.

"He's what I was at his age," said Dick. "Now, boy, have you got the money?"

"Yes," said Jasper.

"One hundred and fifty dollars?"

"Yes."

Dick's eyes glistened.

"Give it here. You're a trump. Did old Fitch make any difficulties?"

"No; he was glad to get the boy back."

"Did he ask you about me?"

"Yes."

"How much did you tell him?" demanded the kidnapper, hastily.

"Nothing. I told him that I had made a promise not to tell."

Dick looked triumphantly at his two companions.

"Didn't I tell you?" he said.

"You have the boy's word for it," said Jack, with a quiet sneer. "How did you find your way here, boy?"

"I looked at a map of the city," answered Jasper.

"Where?"

"In the office of Mr. Fitch."

"Where did you pass last night?"

"At the house of Mr. Fitch."

"Where are you going when you leave here?"

"I have promised to go to Mr. Fitch's counting-room."

"You seem to be very intimate with this gentleman," said Jack.

"There's nothing strange in that," said Jasper, quietly. "It was I who carried his boy home."

"The boy is right," said Dick, who, having obtained his money, felt graciously disposed toward our hero, through whose agency he had obtained it.

"What does he want of you?" asked Jack, continuing the cross-examination.

"I hope he is going to help me to a place," answered Jasper.

"No need of going to him," said the stout man. "We'll give you employment."

"You!" repeated Jasper, with an attentive glance, which took in the man's disreputable appearance.

"Yes, if you deserve it. What do you say?"

"I feel obliged for your offer," said Jasper, "but having promised Mr. Fitch to return, I would prefer to do so."

"Boys," interrupted Dick, at this point, "I'm sorry to leave this festive crowd, but I've got other business to attend to, and must be going."

"I'll go with you," said Jasper, who was anxious to leave the place.

"No, you don't, just yet," said Jack, rising, and striding between Jasper and the door. "We'll have a drink all around first."

"Thank you," said Jasper, "I don't drink."

"You must drink now. It's the law of this establishment."

"All right, Jasper," said Dick. "I'll treat. You can drink what you like, though."

Jasper felt that it would be politic to comply, and chose lemonade.

"I'll order the drinks," said Jack, and he left the room for that purpose.



CHAPTER XXIV.

THE SLEEPING POTION.

Presently the old man already referred to appeared with the drinks. It Is hardly necessary to say that Jasper was alone in his choice of lemonade. The rest selected stronger liquors.

"Here's to you, Dick," said Jack, tossing off the contents of his glass, "and may you live to treat us many times more!"

"Amen to that!" said Bill.

"Haven't you got anything to say, youngster?" asked Dick, turning to Jasper.

"I wish you a pleasant journey," said Jasper, politely.

"As to that, it depends on my success with my sister."

"When do you leave?"

"To-night, if I can."

"What's all that about, Dick? Are you going to leave us?" asked Bill.

"I'm goin' East for the benefit of my health and my purse," said Dick, with a grin. "Do you wish me success, mates?"

"To be sure. Is it anything we can help you in?"

"No, no. It's my private venture."

"Anything in my line?"

"No; it's a strictly virtuous and honest undertaking. I don't mind giving you a hint of it. I've got a near relative that's come into a fortune. Now I think I ought to come in for a share."

"To be sure!"

"Have another game of euchre, Dick?"

"I don't know—I ought to be going," said the kidnapper, hesitating. "We'll make it poker, and the boy may take a hand."

"No," said Jasper, languidly. "I don't know how to play."

"We'll teach you."

"I don't care about it."

"You look sleepy, lad," said Dick.

"Yes, I feel so. It's strange. I didn't feel so when I came in."

"Oh, don't mind the boy's looks," said Jack. "Lay down on that settee, if you want to, boy."

Jasper felt so heavy and drowsy that he accepted the permission and stretched himself out, closing his eyes.

"Why am I so sleepy?" he thought, languidly. "I never was before, in the middle of the day, except when I was sick."

He listened at first to the conversation between the players, but gradually it sounded only like a confused hum, and at length he could not hear it at all.

He was fast asleep.

When this became clear through his heavy breathing, Dick turned to the younger man, and pointing to Jasper, asked:

"What have you been doing to him?"

"I put a sleeping potion into his drink," answered Jack.

"What for?"

"I mean to keep him for a while, and that saves a fuss."

"What do you want to do with him?"

"Prevent him from doing mischief."

"There's no need. He can be trusted."

"You can trust him, for you'll be a long way off. He might blow on us any time."

Dick shrugged his shoulders.

"Oh, well, do as you please, but you're over careful. Don't hurt him."

"He'll be all right as long as he behaves himself. It's your deal."

The game was over at last, and Dick arose to go. Jasper was sleeping soundly, and was wholly unconscious of his departure.

"Give me a hand, Bill, and we'll take the boy up stairs," said the younger man.

"What's your plan, Jack?"

"To make him one of us. He'll come to it in time."

There was a windowless room on the second floor, in the centre of the house, wholly dark, except when lighted by gas. It was to this room that our hero was conveyed, and laid upon some bedding in the corner of the room. There was a slide in the partition to admit air, and with it a few faint rays of light. Jasper stirred a little while he was being moved, but the sleeping potion had too much potency to allow him to wake.

"There," said Jack, in a tone of satisfaction, "he's safe now."

"He'll make a fuss when he gets up."

"Let him. He can't get out."

As they went down stairs, Jack called aside Nathan Gibson, the old man who had charge of the house.

"Nathan," said he, "did you see the boy that was with us just now?"

"Yes."

"We've put him in the prison" (for this was the name by which the small dark room was known). "He's not to be let out."

"Good! I understand."

"You may take him some supper at five or six o'clock. Look in before that time to see if he's awake."

"All right!" said the old man, grinning. "What's your game?"

"It's your game as well as mine. The boy ought never to have come here. He may blow on us."

The mean-faced little man looked by turns frightened and fierce.

"I'd slit his throat if he did!" he said.

"No need of that. We'll make him join us."

"That would be the best way; but can you?"

"We can try. Don't forget what I told you."

Nathan nodded.

Still Jasper slept, little suspecting into what a trap he had walked.



CHAPTER XXV.

JASPER FINDS HIMSELF A PRISONER.

It was after five o'clock when Jasper opened his eyes. As soon as consciousness returned he looked around him with astonishment and wonder.

"Where am I?"

A few rays of light entered at the sliding-door above, and to this his eyes were naturally drawn.

Here was another puzzle. He explored his memory, and could recall no such place as this. He had never before been in such a room.