"I should like to see a larger room," said Walter, not venturing to make any comment on the hall room.

He was shown an adjoining apartment, about ten feet by twelve. It was small, but decidedly preferable to the other.

"How much do you charge for this room, Mrs. Canfield?"

"I shall have to charge you six dollars if you occupy it alone, but if you can get another young gentleman to occupy it with you I will say ten dollars for the two."

"I will take it alone at first. Can I move in tomorrow morning?"

"I will have it ready for you by eleven o'clock."

"That will do."

"How do you like it?" asked Ashton, when they were in the street.

"I think I can make it do."

"I suppose you have been used to something better?"

"Yes."

"I can direct you to a better house."

"Thank you, but six dollars a week is all I can afford at present. I have no income, but I shall look for a place at once."

"You haven't any trade, have you?"

"No," answered Walter, with a smile. Brought up as he had been, it seemed odd to be asked if he had a trade.

"Some trades pay very well. I have a nephew who is a bricklayer. He gets from three to four dollars a day."

"I am afraid I should not like that business. Besides, it would take a good while to learn it."

Walter smiled to himself as he pictured some of his aristocratic college friends seeing him laying bricks. He was not a snob, nor would he have disdained to notice a friend or school companion filling such a position, but he felt that Providence must have something in store for him more congenial, though perhaps less lucrative.

"I have a cousin who is a carpenter," proceeded Ashton. "He makes two dollars and a half a day, and supports a wife and three children in comfort."

"I wonder if I could support a family on fifteen dollars a week?" thought Walter. "Fortunately, I have only to support myself. I ought to be able to do that in a large city like Chicago."

Reared in comfort, Walter knew very little of the competition and struggles of workingmen, and had an idea that he would be able easily to command a salary of ten dollars a week, though he was wholly disqualified for any special line of business. This he set down as the minimum. Paying six dollars a week for board, he calculated that he could get along on this salary with extreme economy. Fortunately, he was pretty well provided with clothing, or would be when he had sent for his trunk, and would not find it necessary for some time to come to purchase anything, except probably a pair of shoes, a necktie, or some trifle. Then probably his pay would soon be raised, and this would make him comfortable.

That evening Walter went to Hooley's Theater and occupied a dollar seat. It was hardly prudent, but he had seventy dollars still, and that seemed to him a large sum. He enjoyed the play, and got a sound night's rest after it.

The next morning he settled his hotel bill, took his gripsack in his hand, and walked over to his new boarding-house.



CHAPTER XII

IN SEARCH OF EMPLOYMENT

"Wanted—A young man of seventeen or eighteen in an insurance office, No. 169 La Salle Street."

This notice attracted the attention of Walter as he ran his eyes over the advertising columns of the Chicago Times on the second day after his arrival in the city.

"I think that will suit me," he said to himself. "It is a nice, respectable business, and I think I should like it. I will go to the office and make inquiries."

He entered a large building, devoted to offices, and ascended to the third story, where he found the office of Perkins & Windermere, the names given in the advertisement. A young man of about his own age was coming out of the office as he entered—an unsuccessful applicant, Walter inferred.

Opening the door, he saw a man of about forty seated in a revolving chair at a desk.

"I believe you advertised for an assistant," began Walter, as the occupant of the chair turned round.

"Yes," replied Mr. Perkins—for it was he—eying Walter with a scrutinizing glance.

"I would like to apply for the position."

"Humph! Do you know anything of the insurance business?"

"Not practically, sir."

"That's against you."

"I think I could soon familiarize myself with it so as to make myself useful."

"How old are you?"

"Very nearly eighteen."

"Do you live in Chicago?"

"I do now. I have recently come from the East."

"What education have you?"

"I spent two years at Euclid College," answered Walter, with conscious pride.

"So you are a college student?"

"Yes, sir." "Humph! That won't do you any good."

"I hope it won't do me any harm, sir," said Walter, somewhat nettled.

"No, unless it has made you conceited. I am a graduate of the People's College."

"I don't think I have heard of that, sir."

"I mean the common school. Don't think much of college myself. They don't help in our business. They didn't have any insurance companies in Greece or Rome, did they?"

"I never heard of any, sir."

"I thought not. You see, we of to-day are rather ahead of Demosthenes and Cicero, and those old fellows. I suppose Rome was quite a sizable place."

"I have always heard so," answered Walter.

"I'll bet a quarter it wasn't as big or as smart a place as Chicago. I don't believe they had any such hotel there as the Palmer House, or any dry-good store as big as Marshall Field's."

"I don't believe they did," Walter admitted.

"Did Rome ever win the baseball championship?" demanded Mr. Perkins.

"No, sir."

"I thought not. Then what's the use in spending four years over those old fellers? How is it going to help you?"

"I don't expect it will help me to earn a living, sir. Do you think you can employ me?"

"What are your ideas as to a salary, young man?"

"I thought of ten dollars," said Walter, hesitatingly.

"Ten dollars!" ejaculated Mr. Perkins. "Just what I thought. Because you've been to college you think you are worth a big salary."

"Do you call that a big salary, sir?" asked Walter, disconcerted.

"It wouldn't be if you had a couple of years' experience, but for a beginner it is simply—enormous."

"What did you expect to pay?" asked Walter, in a depressed tone.

"Five dollars is about the figure."

"I couldn't work for that, sir. It wouldn't pay my board."

"Where are you boarding—at the Palmer House?" inquired Perkins, rather sarcastically.

"No, sir. I am at a cheap boarding-house on Harrison Street, where I pay six dollars a week," answered Walter, with spirit.

"Then I don't think we can make a bargain, although I rather like your looks."

This, at any rate, was a little encouraging.

"But I can't pay your figure. I'll tell you what you'd better do."

"I shall be glad of any advice."

"Become an agent. You look as if you had a gift of the gab. A successful life insurance agent will make a good deal more than ten dollars a week."

"Can I get such a position?" asked Walter, hopefully.

"Yes. I'll employ you myself, on a commission, of course. You'll be paid according to your work I've known an agent to make a hundred and twenty-five dollars in a single week."

"If you think I can do it, sir, I'll try."

"Very well. Hare you ever studied life insurance?"

"No, sir, but I have a general idea of it."

"I will give you some documents—instructions to agents, etc. Take these home, study them, and come to me when you think you understand it well enough to talk people into it."

Mr. Perkins opened his desk, and selecting some papers handed them to Walter.

"When you come again, if there is anything you don't see into, let me know, and I'll explain it to you."

"Thank you, sir."

Walter went home and set himself to studying the insurance documents given him by Mr. Perkins. Here he found his college training of service. It was like studying a science, and Walter, who went to work systematically, soon came to understand the system, with the arguments for and against it. He made calculations of the expenses attending the different classes of life insurance, selecting the ages of thirty, forty and fifty as illustrations. The result was that when he went round to the office the next day he felt considerable confidence in his ability to talk up insurance.

Mr. Perkins seemed surprised to see him so soon.

"Do you think you understand the duties of a canvasser?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"You haven't devoted much time to it. You only took the documents yesterday."

"True, sir; but I have spent several hours in examining them."

"Were there any things you did not understand?"

Walter mentioned one or two points.

"Now, that I may get an idea of your working ability, suppose you try to insure me. I will take the part of an ordinary business man who is unfamiliar with the subject."

Walter was not bashful, and saw at once the value of this suggestion.

Without going into details, it may be stated that he acquitted himself very creditably.

"You surprise me," Mr. Perkins admitted. "You seem to have made yourself quite familiar with the subject. I will take you into my employment as an agent and allow you half commission."

"Do you wish me to operate in the city?"

"It will be better for you to start outside. I will send you to Elm Bank, about fifteen miles distant. Once there, I shall leave you to your own discretion. I will pay your fare there and back, and trust to your doing something to repay me for the outlay."

"Very well, sir."

Walter took the necessary directions, and after dinner took a train out to the suburban town which I have called Elm Bank, though this is not the real name. He congratulated himself on so soon obtaining employment, though it remained to be seen how he would succeed. However, Walter was sanguine, not as yet having put himself in a position to meet the rebuffs which are sure to lie in wait for agents of any kind. He thought over his prospects with pleased anticipations. He felt that the position was much higher than that of a boy in an office. It was one usually filled by men of maturity and business experience. Besides, if successful, the rewards would be ample. The thought of the agent who made a hundred and twenty-five dollars in a single week occurred to him and encouraged him. He would have been content with a salary of ten dollars a week, but here was a business which might lead to a great deal more.

He seated himself next to a girl of sixteen, with a pleasant face and frank, cordial manner.

Presently the girl tried to raise the window—she occupied the seat next to it—but it resisted her efforts.

"Will you allow me to try?" asked Walter, politely.

"Thank you. You are very kind."

Walter leaned over and succeeded in raising it.

"Thank you," said the young lady. "I am only going to Elm Bank, but I like the fresh air, even for a short distance."

Here was a surprise for Walter.

"Are you going to Elm Bank?" he said. "So am I."



CHAPTER XIII

A YOUNG INSURANCE AGENT

"You don't live in Elm Bank?" said the young girl, inquiringly.

"No," answered Walter, swelling with pardonable pride. "I am going there on business." "Have you ever been there before?" asked his fair companion.

"No."

"You look young to be in business."

"I haven't been in business long," returned Walter, wondering if he looked so very young. Then he added, with a sudden impulse, "I am an insurance agent."

"Are you? I—I thought—"

"What did you think?" asked Walter, a little curious.

"I would rather not say it."

"I wish you would."

"You will promise not to be offended?"

"Yes."

"I have been told that insurance agents are very cheeky."

Walter laughed.

"I don't know about that," he said. "I haven't been in the business long enough yet. Do you know if any insurance agents have visited Elm Bank lately?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Perhaps you would like to have your life insured?" said Walter, with a humorous look.

"Can you insure me fifty cents' worth?"

"I am afraid not."

"Then I must put it off, for that is all the money I have."

Conversation drifted into other channels, and was kept up till the cars slowed down and the conductor, putting his head in at the door, called out, "Elm Bank."

Walter and his companion rose and, leaving the car, stepped out on the platform. Walter asked leave to carry a small bundle belonging to the young lady.

"Could you recommend any one who is likely to want his life insured?" he asked.

His companion pointed to a small house some quarter of a mile distant, but plainly visible on account of its high location.

"That house belongs to a German named Louis Fishbach," she said. "He has a little money, and earns good wages in a shoe shop. He has a wife and four young children. Perhaps he will be willing to insure."

"Thank you. I will try him."

"I will leave you here, as I live in a different direction. I am sure I am much obliged to you for your politeness, Mr.—" Here she hesitated.

"Sherwood," supplied Walter.

"Mr. Sherwood. My name is Jennie Gilbert."

"Good afternoon, Miss Jennie," said Walter, politely removing his hat.

He stopped a moment and watched the retreating figure of the young girl.

"I hope I shall meet her again some time," he said to himself.

"I say, who be you?"

Walter turned quickly, and found himself confronted by a stout, hulking young fellow, broad-shouldered, and dressed in country fashion. He was, judging from his appearance, about twenty-one years of age. His tone and face indicated that he was displeased.

"Why do you want to know?" asked Walter coldly.

"Why do I want to know? I'll tell you why I want to know. I ain't goin' to have any city dude chinning up to my best girl."

"Is Miss Jennie Gilbert your best girl?" asked Walter.

"Well, she can be if she wants to be. I picked her out a year ago, and as soon as she is old enough I'm goin' to let her know it."

"Then she isn't your best girl now?"

"No matter whether she is or not. I ain't goin' to have you paying 'tentions to her."

"I don't see what business it is of yours," retorted Walter.

"You'll find out if I give you a lickin'!" growled the other, handling the stick which he carried in a suggestive manner.

Walter was inclined to retort in kind, but all at once it struck him as foolish to get into a quarrel about a girl whom he had known less than an hour.

"If it will make you feel any better," he said, "I'll tell you that I got acquainted with Miss Gilbert in the cars this afternoon. I never met her before, and, as I live in Chicago, I don't suppose I shall ever meet her again."

The young man's face cleared up.

"Come, that's honest," he said. "I thought you wanted to cut me out."

"If Miss Gilbert likes you I shan't interfere," said Walter. "Now I'm going to talk business. I would like to insure your life."

"What's that? You ain't a doctor, be you?"

"No."

Walter proceeded to explain in as simple terms as he could command the object and methods of life insurance.

The young man scratched his head.

"When do I get the money?" he asked.

"It is paid after your death."

"Then it won't do me any good."

"No; but suppose you have a wife and children—you would like to leave them something, wouldn't you?"

"I might live longer than my wife," suggested the young man triumphantly.

Walter found that his new acquaintance could only be influenced by considerations of personal advantage, and was compelled to give up the attempt to insure him.

He kept on his way till he reached the house of Mr. Fishbach, to whom he had been recommended.

Fortunately for his purpose, the shoe shop in which the German was employed was closed for the day, and Walter found him at home mending a wagon in the back yard.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Fishbach," said Walter, raising his hat politely.

"I don't know who you are," answered Mr. Fishbach, with a scrutinizing glance.

"I should like to insure your life."

"You want to insure my life—what's dat?"

"If you will tell me your age, I will explain to you." "I was forty- nine next Christmas. You ain't the census man, eh?"

"No; that is quite another matter. Now, Mr. Fishbach," continued Walter, referring to a pamphlet in his hand, "if you will pay to the company which I represent forty-four dollars every year, when you die a thousand dollars will be paid to your wife, or any one else you may name."

"You won't pay me till I am dead, eh?"

"No."

"How will I know you pay then?"

"We do business on the square. We keep our promises."

"You pay the money to my widow, eh?"

"Yes. If you pay twice as much we will pay two thousand dollars."

"What good will that do me, eh?"

"You will leave your wife comfortable, won't you?"

"If she gets much money she'll maybe marry again."

"Perhaps so."

"And the money will go to her second husband, eh?"

"If she chooses to give it to him."

"By jiminy, that won't suit me. I will spend my money myself."

"But if you die, how will your wife and children get along?"

"What makes you think I'm goin' to die, eh? Do I look delicate?"

As Walter surveyed the stout, rotund figure of Mr. Fishbach he could not help laughing at the idea of his being delicate.

"You look likely to live," he was forced to admit. "Still, life is uncertain." "You can't scare Louis Fishbach, young man. My father lived till seventy-seven and my mother was seventy-five. My children can take care of themselves when I die, and they can look after the old woman."

Walter used such other arguments as occurred to him, but his German friend was not to be moved, and he rather despondently put his documents into his pocket and went out into the street.

"I had no idea I should find it so difficult," he reflected.

Life insurance seemed to him so beneficent, and so necessary a protection for those who would otherwise be unprovided for, that he could not understand how any one who cared for his wife and children could fail to avail himself of its advantages.

After leaving the house of Mr. Fishbach he kept on in the same direction. Being unacquainted in Elm Bank, he had to trust to chance to guide him.

A little distance beyond was an old-fashioned, two-story house.

"Perhaps I had better call," thought Walter, and he entered the path that led to the side door. He had scarcely taken three steps when he was startled by a scream that seemed to proceed from the interior.

"Help! help!" was the cry that reached him.

He started to run, and on reaching the door opened it without ceremony. The sight that confronted him was one to test his courage.



CHAPTER XIV

AN EXCITING ENCOUNTER

To understand the scene in which Walter became an actor a brief explanation is necessary.

The occupant of the house was a woman of perhaps thirty-five. Her husband, Ephraim Gregory, was employed in Chicago, and went to and from the city every day. It was somewhat inconvenient to live at Elm Bank, but both he and his wife were fond of the country, and were willing to submit to some inconvenience for the sake of the sweet, pure air and rural surroundings. They had one child, a little girl of five.

Twenty minutes previous Mrs. Gregory had been sitting at her sewing, with little Rosa on the floor beside her, when, without the ceremony of a knock, the outer door was opened and a tall, powerful man, whose garb and general appearance indicated that he was a tramp, entered the room.

"What do you want?" asked Mrs. Gregory, rising in alarm.

"I'm hungry," answered the tramp, in a hoarse voice.

He might be hungry, but his breath indicated that he had been drinking. Mrs. Gregory would gladly have dismissed him, but she was afraid to do so. If only her husband had been at home!

"Sit down," she said, "and I will find you something."

She went to the pantry and returned with some bread and cold meat, which she set before her uncouth visitor.

"If you will wait five minutes I will make you some tea," she said.

"I don't want any slops," said her visitor, scornfully. "Give me brandy."

"I have none."

"Then whisky, gin—anything!"

"We don't keep liquors in the house. My husband and I never drink them."

At this he swore in a manner that terrified his unwilling hostess, and anathematized her for a temperance crank. This aroused her spirit.

"If you want liquor," she said, "you may go where it is sold. I won't supply it to you or anybody else. If you want hot tea you can have it."

"Give it to me, then."

Mrs. Gregory hastened to steep some tea—she had hot water all ready— and set it before the ruffian. He ate and drank eagerly, voraciously, and did not leave a crumb behind him. He had certainly spoken the truth when he said he was hungry. Then he arose, and she hoped he would go. But he turned to her with a significant look.

"I want money," he said.

"I can give you none," she answered, her heart sinking.

"Oh, yes, you can."

"Are you a thief?" she demanded, with a flash of spirit.

"You can call me that if you like."

There was little hope of shaming him, she saw.

"Look here, missis," he went on roughly, "you've got money in the house, and I must have it."

"How do you know that I have money in the house?"

"Your husband brought some home last night. It is here now."

This was true, and she was startled to find how much this man knew.

"Do you know my husband?" she asked.

"Yes, I know him. His name is Ephraim Gregory. He had some money paid him yesterday and it is here. I don't know where it is, but you do. Get it, and be quick about it!"

Mrs. Gregory saw by this time that her visitor was a desperate villain and that she was in a critical position. He might, since he knew so much, know the amount of money which her husband had entrusted to her for safekeeping. If she could buy him off for five dollars she would do so.

"Will you go if I give you five dollars?" she asked.

He laughed.

"No, I won't. Why should I take five dollars when you have a hundred here?"

She turned pale. The worst was true, then. This man had in some mysterious manner discovered the exact sum which she had in charge. Why had not her husband kept it in his own possession? It would have been more prudent.

"I can't give you the money," she said, pale but resolute.

"Oh, yes, you will!" he answered mockingly.

"Go away, please," she said in a pleading tone. "I have given you a meal, though you had no claim on me. Let that be sufficient."

"You can't fool me!" he replied roughly. "Bring me the money, or it will be the worse for you."

"I cannot!" she gasped.

"Then, by Heaven, I'll brain you!"

As he spoke he raised the chair on which he had been sitting and held it in position above his head, ready to bring it down upon the helpless woman.

Then it was that she uttered the piercing scream which brought Walter into the house.

His astonished glance rested on the terrified woman, with her little girl clinging in alarm to her dress, cowering beneath the chair which seemed ready to descend upon her.

Walter did not hesitate a moment. Though the tramp was possessed of twice his strength, he darted forward and grasped him by the arm.

"What are you about?" he demanded sternly.

The tramp turned at the unexpected interference and partially lowered the chair.

"What business is it of yours, you impudent young jackanapes?" he growled.

"I will make it my business," said Walter, bravely. "I won't see a lady struck down by a ruffian!"

"Take care how you talk. I can twist you round my finger, you manikin!" "What does this man want?" asked Walter, turning to Mrs. Gregory.

"He demands money," was her answer.

"So he is a thief!" exclaimed Walter, contemptuously.

"I'll fix you for that!" growled the tramp, with a frown.

Walter quickly explored the room in search of a weapon, for he saw that he would have to defend himself.

There was a fireplace in the apartment, and resting beside it was a poker of large size. Walter sprang for this, and, grasping it firmly, brandished it in a threatening manner.

"Go upstairs, madam," he said, "and lock yourself in. I will attend to this man."

The tramp burst into a contemptuous laugh.

"Why, you young whippersnapper!" he said, "I could handle half a dozen boys like you."

"I don't like to leave you in the power of this man," said Mrs. Gregory. "He will kill you."

"Right you are, ma'am!"' growled the giant. "That's just what I am going to do."

The lady turned pale. She was frightened, but her concern for Walter's safety overcame her fear for herself.

"I shall stay here," she said, "It would be cowardly to leave you."

"Take my advice, boy," growled the tramp, "and clear out of here. It is no concern of yours."

Walter did not answer, but, keen, alert, vigilant, he fixed his eye warily on his formidable opponent.

"Well, youngster," said the tramp impatiently, "did you hear me?"

"Yes, I heard you."

"Leave this room, or I'll smash you!"

"Smash away!" retorted Walter.

Though he was barely five feet six inches in height, while the tramp was fully six feet, his muscles had been toughened by exercise in the college gymnasium and by rowing in the college crew, and he was wonderfully quick in his motions.

Feeling that the time for forbearance was over, and irritated beyond measure by Walter's audacity, the tramp prepared to carry out his threat. He raised the chair and with a downward sweep aimed at Walter's head.

Had the blow taken effect, this story would never have been written. But Walter's quick eye foresaw the movement, and, springing aside, he dodged the blow and brought down the poker on the muscular part of the giant's arm with what force he could command. There was a howl of pain, and the tramp's arm hung limp and lifeless at his side, while with the other he clasped it in evident suffering.

"You murderous young villain!" he shrieked. "I'll kill you for that!"

Walter felt that he was in a dangerous position.

"Leave the room, please!" he said to Mrs. Gregory. "You will be in my way." She obeyed, for her champion had shown himself worthy to command, and Walter sprang to the other side of the table, placing it between him and his foe.

By this time the tramp had got ready for an attack. He dashed round the table after Walter, and finally succeeded, in spite of the boy's activity, in grasping him by the shoulder.

"Ah!" he said, with a deep sigh of content, "I've got you now. I'll pay you for that blow!"

Walter felt that he had never been in such a tight place before.



CHAPTER XV

THE EXCITEMENT DEEPENS

Walter was fortunate enough not to lose his head under any circumstances. He noticed that his opponent held him by his right hand, and it was his right arm which had been lamed. Naturally, therefore, it had lost some of its strength. This was his opportunity. With a sudden twist he wriggled out of the giant's grasp, and, understanding that it was dangerous to be at too close quarters, he threw open the outer door and dashed into the yard.

Whether this would, on the whole, have helped him, was uncertain, as the tramp could probably outrun him, but just in the nick of time a team appeared, driven by a young man, perhaps twenty-five, of remarkable size. Hiram Nutt was six feet six inches in height, the tallest man in the county, and he was as athletic as he was tall. He tipped the scales at two hundred and ten pounds, and was famous for his feats of strength. He was a farmer's son and lived at Elm Bank.

When he saw Walter dash out of the house, pursued by an ill-looking tramp, he thought it high time to interfere.

"What's up?" he demanded, still retaining his seat in the wagon.

"None of your business!" retorted the tramp, too angry to be prudent, "The kid's been impudent, and I'm going to pound him to a jelly."

Meanwhile, Walter was leading the tramp a chase round the wagon, narrowly escaping seizure.

"Help me!" exclaimed Walter, panting.

"If you do, I'll lay you out!" exclaimed the pursuer, who had been too much occupied to notice the formidable size of the young man in the wagon.

Hiram Nutt smiled—a smile of conscious strength.

"Jump in the wagon, boy!" he said. "I'll take care of you."

Walter obeyed directions, and the tramp tried to follow him.

But in an instant Hiram had risen to his full height and, leaping to the ground, hurried to the rear of the vehicle and caught hold of the tramp. The latter tried to resist, but he was like a child in the grasp of a man. He looked up in amazement, for he was proud of his strength.

"What museum did you escape from, you—monster?" he panted.

Hiram laughed.

"Never mind," he said. "It's well I'm here. Now, boy, who is this man?"

"I found him in that house, ready to strike down the lady who lives there because she would not give him what money she had."

Hiram Nutt's brows contracted.

"Why, you thieving scoundrel!" he cried, vigorously shaking his captive, "you dared to threaten Mrs. Gregory? Did he hurt the lady?" he added anxiously.

"No; I heard her cry for help and rushed in. Then he turned upon me."

"He might have killed you!"

"I wish I had!" ejaculated the tramp, with a scowl.

"Where is Mrs. Gregory now?"

"I told her to go upstairs."

Just then the lady, who from an upper window had observed the discomfiture and capture of her enemy, came out.

"Oh, Mr. Nutt," she exclaimed, "I am so glad you came along! I was afraid this brave boy would get hurt."

"It isn't he that will get hurt now," said Nutt, significantly. "How came this fellow in your house?"

"He came in half an hour ago and asked for food."

"And you gave it to him?"

"Yes; I got ready a lunch for him and made him some tea, though he wanted liquor."

"And this was the way of repaying the favor?"

"He had heard in some way that my husband brought home some money last evening and he demanded it. I wish, Mr. Nutt, you would take charge of it till my husband comes home. I don't dare to have it in the house."

"It won't be necessary, for there comes your husband."

It was true. Ephraim Gregory turned the corner of the street, and paused in surprise at the spectacle before him.

"What's the matter, Lucy?" he asked.

She briefly explained.

"I am so glad you are at home," she sighed. "But how do you happen to come so early?"

"I think it was a presentiment of evil. I thought of the money I had left with you, and it occurred to me that it might expose you to danger. So I got leave of absence and took an early train for Elm Bank." "What shall I do with this fellow, Mr. Gregory?" asked Hiram.

"I'll go into the house and get a rope to tie him. Then we'll take him to the lock-up."

"Let me go!" said the tramp, uneasily. "I was only joking."

"You carried the joke too far, my friend," said Hiram, significantly. "I'll take you round to the lock-up—by way of joke—and Judge Jones will sentence you to the penitentiary—just to help the joke along."

"Let me go!" whined the tramp, now thoroughly subdued. "I am a poor man, and that's what led me to do wrong."

"I suppose you never indulged in such a little joke before?"

"No; this is the first time."

"Probably you are a church member when you are at home," said Hiram, in a tone of sarcasm. "You're a good man gone wrong, ain't you?"

"Yes," said the tramp.

"You look like it. Such good men as you are better off in jail."

"I'll leave town and never come back—I will, on my honor!" pleaded the tramp, earnestly.

"I don't put any confidence in what you say. Ah, here's the rope. Now, hold still, if you know what's best for yourself."

The tramp attempted resistance, but a little vigorous shaking up by his captor soon brought him to terms. In five minutes, with his hands and feet firmly tied, he was on his way to the lock-up. Mr. Gregory and Walter accompanied him in the wagon.

"Now, Mr. Sherwood," said Gregory, when their errand was completed, "I want to thank you for your brave defense of my wife."

"I only did what any one would do under the same circumstances," said Walter, modestly.

"Any one of the requisite courage. You put yourself in danger."

"I didn't think of that, Mr. Gregory."

"No, I suppose not, but it is proper that I should think of it. You have placed me under an obligation that I shall not soon forget. You must do me the favor to come home to supper with me and pass the night. Will it interfere seriously with your business?"

"I am a life-insurance agent," said Walter, "or, at least, I am trying to be, but have not yet succeeded in writing a policy."

"I have been thinking of insuring my life for a small sum. If you come home with me you may talk me into doing it."

"Then I will certainly accept your invitation," said Walter, smiling.

"My wife made me promise to keep you. She wants to show her gratitude. Besides, you may be wanted to appear against the prisoner to-morrow morning."

"I shall be glad to help him to his deserts," said Walter. "The sooner he is locked up the better it will be for the community."

Walter had no reason to regret his acceptance of the invitation. Mrs. Gregory exerted herself to the utmost in providing an appetizing supper, far in advance of anything he would have had set before him at his boarding-house, Mrs. Canfield being an indifferent cook. Generally her butter was strong and her tea weak, while the contrary should have been the case, and her biscuit heavy with saleratus. Walter thoroughly enjoyed his supper, and was almost ashamed of his appetite. But it gave his hostess great pleasure to see his appreciation of the meal, and she took it as a compliment to herself as a cook.

After supper Walter and Mr. Gregory sat down to business. He explained the methods of the insurance company for which he was acting as agent, and found Mr. Gregory an interested and intelligent listener.

"You may write me a policy for a thousand dollars," he said.

"You will need to pass a medical examination," said Walter.

"Certainly; will our village physician do?" "Yes."

"Then take your hat and walk over with me. It is only half-a-mile distant."

The whole matter was adjusted that evening, and Walter was pleased to feel that he had made a successful start in his new business.

The next morning the tramp was brought before Justice Jones, who arranged to hold court early to oblige Walter and Mr. Gregory, and the prisoner received a sentence of a year's confinement. He gave the name of Barney Fogg, and under that name received his sentence. He scowled fiercely while Walter was giving his evidence, and as he was taken from the court-room handcuffed, he turned toward our hero and said: "It's your turn now, young bantam, but I'll be even with you yet."

"What a terrible man!" said Mr. Gregory, shuddering. "I hope I shall never see him again."



CHAPTER XVI

WALTER GOES INTO A NEW BUSINESS

One swallow doesn't make a summer, and one policy doesn't establish the success of an insurance agent. Walter received from Mr. Perkins five dollars commission on the policy he had written at Elm Bank, and this encouraged him to renewed efforts. But in the fortnight following he only succeeded in writing a policy for two hundred and fifty dollars, for a man who designed it to meet his funeral expenses. For this Walter received one dollar and a quarter. He made numerous other attempts, but he found, though he understood the subject thoroughly, that his youth operated against him. He decided that he was wasting his time, and one morning he waited on Mr. Perkins and resigned his agency.

"Have you anything else in view?" asked that gentleman.

"No, sir."

"Then why don't you keep on till you have secured another position?"

"Because it takes up my time, and prevents my getting anything else."

"I don't know but you are right, Mr. Sherwood. You have made a good beginning, and if you were ten years older I think you would make a successful agent."

"I can't afford to wait ten years," returned Walter, with a smile.

"If ever you want to come back, I will start you again."

Walter thanked Mr. Perkins, and left the office.

He now began to explore the columns of the daily papers, in the hope of finding some opening, but met with the usual rebuffs and refusals when he called upon advertisers.

At length he saw the following advertisement in the Chicago Tribune:

"WANTED—A confidential clerk at a salary of fifteen dollars per week. As a guarantee of fidelity, a small deposit will be required. LOCKE & GREEN, No. 257 1-2 State Street."

"Fifteen dollars a week!" repeated Walter hopefully. "That will support me very comfortably. If I get it I will change my boarding- place, for I don't like Mrs. Canfield's table. I shall feel justified in paying a little more than I do now."

The only thing that troubled him was as to the deposit. Though he had economized as closely as he knew how, he had made quite an inroad upon his small capital, and had only forty-six dollars left. He had been in Chicago four weeks, and had not yet been able to write home that he had found a permanent position. He had written about his insurance agency, and had not failed to chronicle his first success.

This letter Doctor Mack had read to his housekeeper, Miss Nancy Sprague.

"Well, Nancy," he said, "Walter is at work."

"You don't say so, doctor! What is he doing?"

"He is a life-insurance agent."

"Is that a good business?"

"Walter writes that one agent is making a hundred and twenty-five dollars a week," answered the doctor, with a humorous twinkle in his eye.

"I'm glad Master Walter has got such a good business," said the housekeeper, brightening up. "That's a great sum for a boy like him to make."

"It isn't he that has made it, Nancy. There are very few that do, and those have to be old and experienced men."

"Well, he'll make a good living, anyhow."

"Perhaps so," answered the doctor dubiously, for he understood better than Nancy how precarious were the chances of an inexperienced agent. He was not at all surprised when Walter wrote later that though he had met with some success, he thought it better to look for a situation with a regular salary attached.

"He's gaining a little knowledge of the world," thought the guardian. "I don't think he'll be able to indulge in luxurious living for the present. It won't be long, probably, before he runs out of money."

It was with a hopeful spirit that Walter started for the office of Locke & Green. He was pretty well acquainted with Chicago by this time, and had no difficulty in locating any office in the business part of the city.

No indication was given in the advertisement of the business carried on by Locke & Green. As to that, however, Walter felt indifferent. His chief concern was the weekly salary of fifteen dollars, which he needed very much.

Arrived at the number indicated, Walter ran upstairs, and with some difficulty found the office in a small room on the fourth floor. A card on the door bore the names:

LOCKE & GREEN

Again there was no clue to the business carried on by the firm.

Walter was not sure whether he ought to knock, but finally decided to open the door and enter. He found himself in a room scarcely larger than a small bedroom, with a small desk in one corner. At this sat a man with long hair, industriously writing in a large blank book. He glanced at Walter as the door opened.

"Wait a moment, young man!" he said, in a deep bass voice. "I will be at leisure in two minutes."

He wrinkled up his face, turned back several pages, appeared thoughtfully considering some problem, and then wrote again rapidly.

Finally he turned—he was seated in a revolving chair—and placing his two hands together, palms inward, said abruptly: "Well, young man, what can I do for you?"

"I believe you advertised in the Tribune this morning for a confidential clerk?"

"Yes."

"I should like to apply for the position, if it is still vacant."

"We have not yet filled the place," said Mr. Locke. "We have had several applications, but the post is a very responsible one, and we are, of course, very particular."

"I am afraid my chance is very small, then," thought Walter.

"Still, I like your appearance, and it is possible that you may suit. Have you business experience?"

"Not much, sir. Indeed, till a short time since I was a college student."

"Yale or Harvard?"

"No, sir; Euclid College."

"Ahem; small, but very respectable. Your name?"

"Walter Sherwood."

"How long were you in college?"

"Two years."

"Left of your own accord?" "Oh, yes, sir."

"Just so. I thought perhaps you might have been suspended or expelled."

"I can refer you on that point to the president or any of the professors."

"Oh, I will take your word for it."

"I left college on account of losing my property."

"Ah, indeed!" said Mr. Locke doubtfully. "Perhaps you noticed that we require a small deposit as a guarantee of fidelity."

"Yes, sir. I have a little money."

Mr. Locke looked relieved.

"Of course," continued he loftily, "doing the business we do, money is of comparatively little importance to us, except as a guarantee of fidelity. How much did you say you had?"

"I didn't say, sir. I could deposit twenty-five dollars with you."

Mr. Locke shrugged his shoulders.

"That is very little," he said.

"True, sir, but it is a good deal to me. It will be enough to insure my fidelity."

"We had a young man here this morning," said Mr. Locke musingly, "who was willing to deposit a hundred dollars with us."

"Indeed, sir! I wonder you did not take him."

"We should, so far as the money went, but I could see by his appearance that there was no business in him. Our clerk must be quick, sharp, alert. The young man was very much disappointed."

"I couldn't deposit any such sum as that, Mr. Locke."

"It will not be necessary. Still, twenty-five dollars is very small. You couldn't say thirty, could you? That is merely equal to two weeks' salary."

"Yes, sir. I might be willing to deposit thirty dollars. May I ask what business you are interested in?"

"We have control for the Western States of a valuable patent—a folding-table—and we have several hundred agents out, who report in general by letter." "That accounts for the small office," thought Walter.

"Come here a moment, and I will give you an idea how we carry on business. Here, for instance, is a page devoted to B. Schenck. He is operating for us in Minnesota. You will observe that his remittances for the last four weeks aggregate three hundred and sixty-seven dollars. He has been doing very well, but we have others who do better. On the next page is our account with G. Parker. His month's work amounts to two hundred and eighty-nine dollars."

"What would my duties be, sir?"

"To keep the office when I am out, receive letters, and answer them, and see agents."

"I think I could do that, sir."

"Hours from nine to five. I think you will suit me. If at the end of the week I don't find you satisfactory, I will pay you your wages and return your money."

"Very well, sir. I accept the position."

"You may as well hand me the money, and go to work to-day." Walter drew out thirty dollars, the greater part of his little store, and handed it to Mr. Locke.

Mr. Locke tucked it carelessly into his vest pocket, and taking his hat said: "Sit down here, and if any agents come in, tell them I will be back at one o'clock. That is all you will need to do to-day."



CHAPTER XVII

WALTER'S VISITORS

Walter sat down at the desk complacently. He had parted with thirty dollars, but it was on deposit with his new employer, and would be returned to him whenever his engagement terminated. He only hoped that his services would prove satisfactory. He meant to do his best. On fifteen dollars a week he could live very comfortably, and even save money. He felt that it would be prudent to do this, as he did not wish to call upon his guardian for any remittances during the year.

"I sha'n't have to work very hard," thought Walter.

In default of any other employment he looked over the large ledger committed to his charge. It appeared to contain certain accounts with different agents, all of whom seemed to be meeting with very good success, judging from the amount of remittances credited to them.

In about half-an-hour there was a knock at the door.

"Come in!" called out Walter.

A man of about thirty-five entered briskly. He was rather shabbily dressed, and his red face indicated possible indulgence in intoxicating liquor. "Is Mr. Locke in?" he asked.

"No, sir."

"I wanted to see him."

"I am his confidential clerk," said Walter proudly. "Are you an agent?"

"Yes, I am an agent. I suppose I ought to see him."

"He will be back at one o'clock."

"I can't stop, as I have been away for some weeks and want to go out and see my family at Barrington."

"If you wish to leave any message I will give it to Mr. Locke as soon as he returns."

"Perhaps that will do. My name is Jerome Grigson. Tell Mr. Locke I have met with excellent success in Ohio. In the last four weeks I have sold goods to the amount of four hundred and seventeen dollars."

"I should think it was doing remarkably well," observed Walter.

"It is; but any one could sell for Locke business chiefly in Mr. Locke's hands. How long have you been in the office?"

"Not long," answered Walter, who did not care to admit that his term of service covered less than an hour.

"You've a good place with a rising firm. Mind you keep it!"

"I will try to," said Walter earnestly.

"They're square men, Locke & Green. I never worked for squarer men."

This was pleasant to hear. Walter felt that he Had made no mistake in parting with his thirty Dollars.

"Well, I must be going. Have you taken down my name?"

"Yes, sir; Jerome Grigson."

"Right. Say, I will look in some time to-morrow and bring in a check for four hundred and seventeen dollars.

"Very well, sir."

Mr. Grigson left the office. Twenty minutes Later a boy of about his own age opened the door. He glanced at Walter diffidently.

"You advertised for a confidential clerk," he said. "Is—is the place filled?"

"Yes," answered Walter, in a tone of satisfaction.

"You don't want anybody else, do you?" asked the youth, looking disappointed. "Not at present, but we might be able to employ you as an agent." "Is it hard work?

"Well, of course you will have to exert yourself," said Walter condescendingly, toying with a pen as he spoke, "but successful men can earn good wages with us."

He was talking as if he was one of the partners, but it is a way young clerks have.

"Are yon one of the firm?" asked the young man doubtfully.

"No," answered Walter, "not exactly. Mr. Locke will be in about one o'clock, and if you will come round a little after that you can talk with him about an agency. I will put in a good word for you," he added, in a patronizing tone.

"Thank you, sir. I'd like to get a place."

The youth departed and Walter was left alone. But not for long. A middle-aged man entered and looked inquiringly at Walter.

"Are you Mr. Green?" he asked.

"No, sir."

"I have seen Mr. Locke, but I thought you might be Mr. Green."

Walter felt flattered to be taken for one of the firm.

"I am the confidential clerk," he said. "Can I do anything for you?"

"I wanted to see Mr. Locke and pay him some money."

"I will take it and receipt for it," said Walter briskly.

"Well, I suppose that will do, as you are the clerk."

"What name?" asked Walter, opening the book.

"Jonas Damon. Here is a check on the Corndish National Bank of Illinois for two hundred and twenty-seven dollars. I have made it payable to Locke & Green."

"All right," said Walter, in a businesslike tone.

"If you wish to see Mr. Locke he will be in at one o'clock," he added, as he put the check in his vest pocket.

"No, I am obliged to go out of town in half-an-hour. It isn't necessary to see him. He would rather see the check."

Mr. Damon laughed, and so did Walter. It Made him feel quite like a business man to be installed in an office, receiving and crediting checks.

"Have you been long in our employment?" he asked.

"About six months."

"I hope you have found it satisfactory?"

"Yes, I have made an excellent living. How much salary do you get?"

"Fifteen dollars a week," answered Walter rather complacently.

"You look like a smart young fellow. You'd easily make double the money as an agent."

"Thank you for the suggestion. I may undertake that some time. I have been a life-insurance agent."

"Did it pay?"

"Not as well as I hoped. I think I shall like my present place better."

"I must be going. Tell Mr. Locke I will be in to-morrow."

"All right."

"It is evident," thought Walter, "that I am in the employ of a substantial and prosperous firm. The duties are certainly very light and pleasant. I am in luck to get a clerkship here. It is rather surprising Mr. Locke didn't ask for references."

Then it occurred to him that the deposit was taken as a substitute for references. Then again Walter flattered himself that his personal appearance might have produced a favorable impression upon his employer and had some influence in leading to an engagement.

His next caller was a young man, dark and sallow, with a slight mustache.

"Is this the office of Locke & Green?" he asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Will you describe Mr. Locke to me?" asked the young man, who appeared to be laboring under some excitement.

Walter was rather surprised at such a request, but complied with it.

"Yes, he's the man," said his visitor, slapping his hands together impetuously. "He's the man that cheated me out of fifty dollars!"

"You must be mistaken," said Walter. "How did he cheat you out of it?"

"One moment—are you his confidential clerk?"

"Yes."

"I thought so," returned the young man, laughing wildly. "So was I."

"You were his clerk?"

"Yes, for two weeks. I paid him fifty dollars good money as security."

"You did?" repeated Walter, with some anxiety.

"Yes; at the end of two weeks he told me I would not suit."

"But he paid you your wages and returned you your money?"

"No, he didn't!" exploded the young man. "He told me to come round on Monday morning and he would pay me."

"Well?"

"I called Monday, and he was gone! He had moved, the scoundrel! I should like to choke him!"

"Was it this office?"

"No. Let me see that book! Ah, it is the same that I kept. Have you, too, given him money?"

"I deposited thirty dollars."

"Ah, it is the same old game! You will never see a cent of it again."

"But," said Walter, "I don't understand. He is doing a good business. I have had calls from two of his agents. One of them handed me this check," and he drew out the check Mr. Damon had given him.

The young man took it and laughed bitterly.

"I don't believe there is any such bank," he said. "I never heard of it."

"Then why should the agent hand me the check?"

"To pull wool over your eyes. These agents are in league with this man Locke. That wasn't his name when he engaged me."

"What was it then?"

"He called himself Libby. Libby & Richmond, that was the name of the firm."

"What made you think he might have changed his name?"

"Because the advertisement reads the same."

"And you really think it is the same man?"

"Yes, I feel sure of it."

"He will be back at one o'clock. If you will wait till then you can see for yourself."

"I'll wait!" said the young man, grinding his teeth. "I will confront the swindler face to face. I will demand my money."

The door opened and some one put in his head, but before Walter or his visitor could see who it was it closed again.

Fifteen minutes later a telegraph boy entered the office.



CHAPTER XVIII

WALTER IS TURNED ADRIFT

"Mr. Sherwood?" said the telegraph messenger inquiringly.

"That is my name," answered Walter.

"A message for you."

Walter opened the note, and read as follows:

"I am called out of the city. You may close up at four, and leave the key with the janitor. Report for duty to-morrow morning. LOCKE."

"What is it?" asked the young man eagerly.

Walter showed him the note.

"It looks to me like some trick," said the stranger.

"But I don't see any object in it."

"He has your thirty dollars."

"And I have a check for over two hundred."

"I would rather have the thirty dollars. What shall you do?"

"There is nothing to do but follow directions."

The young man shrugged his shoulders.

"Then you will come round to-morrow morning?" he said.

"Certainly."

"I'll look in upon you. I want to see this Mr. Locke, though I doubt if that is his name."

Walter was disposed to think the young man too suspicious. He was of a sanguine temperament, and he tried to persuade himself that there was really no good reason to suspect Mr. Locke of unfair dealing. He laid considerable stress upon the favorable reports of the agents who had called upon him during the day.

At length four o'clock came, and he closed up the office, leaving the key with the janitor. He went home, not quite knowing whether he was to be congratulated or not. He decided not to say anything just yet about his engagement, lest it might turn out to be deceptive. Had he been quite sure that it was substantial and to be relied upon, he would have written to his guardian to announce the good news, but he thought it best to wait.

The next morning he went to the office, arriving at the hour agreed upon.

"Please give me the key to Locke & Green's office," he said to the janitor.

"Mr. Locke's given up the room," was the startling reply.

Walter was dismayed.

"Given up the room! Have you seen him?" he inquired.

"Yes."

"When?"

"He called yesterday afternoon, an hour after you went away, and got the key from me. In about ten minutes he came down again, carrying a ledger in his hand.

"'I have taken another office,' he said. 'This is not large enough for me.'

"'Have you told your clerk?' I asked him.

"'Yes, I have sent a message to him,' he replied carelessly."

Walter sank against the door. He felt limp and helpless. Mr. Locke had gone off, and carried his thirty dollars with him. There was hardly room to doubt that it was a case of deliberate swindling.

True, he had the check in his possession—a check for two hundred and twenty-seven dollars—but, even if it were genuine, it was made out in favor of Locke & Green, and would be of no service to him, though in that case it would insure Mr. Locke's calling upon him. Should such be the Case, he determined that he would not give up the Check till his thirty dollars were returned.

Walter walked slowly out of the building. When he reached Dearborn Street he went into the office of a private banker, and, showing the check, asked, "Is there any such bank as this?"

"I never heard of any," said the banker.

Walter turned pale.

"Then you think it is bogus?"

"Very likely. Under what circumstances did you receive it?"

Walter explained.

"I am sorry to say that you are probably the victim of a confidence man, or firm. I think I saw an expose of some similar swindlers in the Inter-Ocean a few weeks since. Did you give the fellow any money?"

"Yes, sir; thirty dollars."

"You will have to whistle for it, in all probability."

Walter's heart felt as heavy as lead. He had less than twenty dollars now, and his small balance would last him less than three weeks. What should he do then? Should he write to his guardian for more money? He hated to do this, and, above all, he hated to confess that he had been victimized.

In the next three days he answered several advertisements, and made personal applications for employment. But no one seemed to want him. In one case he was offered three dollars a week as an office boy, but he had not got quite so low down as to accept this place and salary. It struck Walter as very singular that one who had spent two years at college, and possessed a fair knowledge of Latin, Greek, and mathematics, should be in so little request. He envied the small office boys whom he saw on the street, and even the busy newsboys, who appeared to be making an income. They had work to do, and he had none. He decided that he must reduce his expenses, and accordingly hired a poor hall-bedroom for a dollar and a quarter a week, and took his meals at restaurants.

One day he went into Kinsley's restaurant, on Adams Street, feeling the need of a good meal, and sat down at a table. He gave his order, and ate his dinner with appetite. He was about to rise from the table when, casting his eye about the room, he started in surprise, as at a neighboring table he saw the familiar face of Mr. Jonas Damon, whose check he held in his pocket.

Instantly his resolve was taken. He would speak to Mr. Damon, and try to ascertain something about the check.

He walked over to the table, and touching Damon on the shoulder, said: "Mr. Damon, I believe?"

The man looked up quickly, and a little change in his countenance showed that he recognised Walter; but he assumed a stolid look, and said: "Were you speaking to me, young man?"

"Yes, sir."

"What did you call me?"

"Mr. Damon."

"You're off the track. That isn't my name."

"Perhaps not," said Walter resolutely; "but when you called at Locke & Green's office and handed me a check you said your name was Jonas Damon."

"Ho, ho!" laughed Damon. "So I gave you a check, did I?"

"Yes, for two hundred and twenty-seven dollars."

"That's news to me. I'm not in a position to give such checks as that."

"I have got the check with me now."

"Why didn't you cash it?"

"It was not made payable to me."

"Then why didn't you give it to the party it was made out to?"

"Because he disappeared."

"That's a strange story. Do you know what I think?"

"No; but I should like to."

"I think you are a confidence man, and are trying to take in a poor countryman. But I've read about you fellows in the papers, and I am on my guard. You'd better go away, or I may call a policeman."

This certainly was turning the tables on Walter with a vengeance. For a fellow like Damon to accuse him of being a confidence man was something like the wolf's charge against the lamb in AEsop's fable.

Damon saw that Walter looked perplexed, and followed up the attack.

"If anybody has given you a check," he said, "I don't see what you've got to complain about. You'd better make use of it if you can."

"Do you deny that your name is Damon?"

"Of course I do. My name is Kellogg—Nelson Kellogg, of Springfield, Illinois. I am in the city to buy goods."

"And you don't know Mr. Locke, of Locke & Green?"

"Never heard of the gentleman. If you've got a check of his, you'd better advertise for him. I wish my name was Locke. I shouldn't mind receiving it myself."

Here the waiter came up with Mr. Damon's order, and that gentleman addressed himself to disposing of it.

Walter left the restaurant slowly, and walked in a dejected manner in the direction of the Palmer House. He began to think that he was a failure. When he was a student of Euclid College he was in his own estimation, a person of importance. Now he felt his insignificance. If the world owed him a living, it seemed doubtful if it was inclined to pay the debt.



CHAPTER XIX

WALTER MEETS PROFESSOR ROBINSON

Two weeks passed. Walter applied for all sorts of situations, but obtained no engagement. Meanwhile his money steadily diminished, till he awoke one morning to find only seventy-five cents in his purse. Things were getting decidedly serious.

"I wonder if there is any poorhouse in Chicago," thought Walter, not wholly in jest. "It is not the sort of home I should prefer, but it is better than genteel starvation."

He went out, breakfasted, and at the restaurant picked up a copy of the Chicago Times. This was a piece of luck, for it saved him from the small expenditure necessary to secure it. He turned to the department of Help Wanted, and looking down the column came to this notice:

"WANTED—By a traveling lecturer, a young man who can make himself generally useful; one who plays the violin preferred. Apply to PROFESSOR ROBINSON, Hotel Brevoort."

Walter knew this hotel. It was located on Madison Street, and was on the European plan.

"That will suit me," he said to himself. "I must lose no time in making application. I can play the violin fairly well. If it will help me to a position, I will bless the violin."

In ten minutes he was at the hotel, inquiring for Professor Robinson.

"He is in his room," said the clerk, "You can go up at once."

Guided by a bell-boy, Walter reached the door of No. 65 and knocked.

"Come in!" said a deep bass voice.

Opening the door he found himself in the presence of a stout man, inclined to be tall, with a long, full beard, who glanced at him inquiringly.

"Professor Robinson, I believe?" said Walter.

"I am the man," answered the professor.

"I have come to apply for a position. I have read your advertisement in the Times."

"Just so! Let me look at you."

Walter blushed a little while the professor transfixed him with his glittering eye. He anxiously hoped that he would bear inspection.

"Humph! I think you'll do. How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

In fact, Walter's birthday had been passed in Chicago.

"You are rather young. Can you play on the violin?"

"Yes, sir."

"Let me hear you."

The professor pointed to a violin on the bed.

"I am glad he doesn't expect me to furnish the violin," Walter said to himself.

He took the instrument from its case, and trying the strings began to play a series of familiar airs. The violin was not a Stradivarius, but it was of good quality, and responded satisfactorily to the efforts of the young musician. Professor Robinson listened attentively, and nodded his approval.

"You play better than the last young man I had."

Walter was glad to hear it.

"I may as well tell you the nature of your duties, in case I engage you. I call myself a traveling lecturer, but this may convey an erroneous idea. I am the discoverer of Professor Robinson's Liquid Balm, which is warranted to cure more diseases than any other patent preparation in existence. I won't go into particulars, for these can be read in my circular. Now, it is my custom to go from one town to another, engage a hall if the weather requires, otherwise gather a crowd around me in a public place, and lecture about the merits of my remarkable preparation. You, besides assisting me in a general way, are expected to draw and entertain the crowd by your performance on the violin. Can you sing?"

Walter shook his head.

"I am afraid," he said, "that if I should undertake to sing it would drive away the crowd."

"Very well! It isn't necessary, though it would have helped. Now, what are your ideas as to compensation?"

As the professor spoke, he leaned back in his chair and awaited a reply.

"I hardly know what it would be right to ask," returned Walter hesitatingly. "How much did you pay your last assistant?"

"I paid him fifteen dollars a month and his traveling expenses."

This was a good deal more than Walter had made since he had undertaken to earn his own living, yet there seemed small chance of laying up anything out of it.

"May I ask, sir," he inquired, "do you meet with pretty good success in disposing of your balm?"

"Yes; the public knows a good thing when it is brought to its attention."

"Would you be willing to pay my expenses and ten per cent. commission on sales?"

"Why do you prefer this to a stated salary?"

"Because it would be an incentive to do my best. Then if I helped you to a successful sale I should be paid in proportion."

"I have an idea. You look blooming and healthy. Are you willing I should advertise you as one who has been snatched from death by my celebrated balm?"

"I don't think I would like it, sir. It would be imposing upon the public."

"I merely suggested it, but I won't insist upon it. I suppose you are thoroughly honest and reliable?"

Walter smiled.

"I don't know that my assurance will satisfy you, but I can truly say that I am."

"You look it, and I trust a good deal to appearances. I will accept your assurance."

"Thank you, sir."

"Can you join me at once?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then I will expect you to bring your baggage here during the day—the sooner the better. You will then receive your instructions."

Walter was very glad to hear this, for his purse was so nearly exhausted that it was comforting to think his lodging and meals would hereafter be paid by some one else. When he came to reflect upon the nature of his duties—general assistant to a quack doctor, playing on village commons and in country halls to draw a crowd of prospective customers, he felt that it was hardly a thing to be proud of. With his college training he ought to be qualified for something better, but the cold, hard fact stared him in the face that it was the only employment that offered, and he must accept it or starve. Walter had become practical. His limited acquaintance with the world had made him so, and he was not going to refuse bread and butter because it was offered by a quack doctor.

Within an hour Walter had given up his room—the rent had been paid in advance—and transferred his luggage to the Hotel Brevoort, where he was assigned a small apartment on the upper floor.

"I shall leave the city in two days," said the professor. "I have put an advertisement into the daily papers which brings customers to the hotel, but I depend chiefly upon my sales on the road."

"Do you travel on the cars?" asked Walter.

"No; I have a neat wagon in which I carry a supply of bottles of balm, and this enables me to stop where I like. I prefer villages to very large towns and cities. It is better for me to visit places where there are no drug-stores, as the people are more dependent on what is brought to them."

"When you are in the city shall I get my commission?"

"Ahem! I am not clear as to that," answered Professor Robinson thoughtfully. "You see you are not called upon to play."

"Suppose you give me five per cent. in Chicago and large places."

"Very well. I will do so. I will settle with you at the end of every week, if that will be satisfactory."

"Yes, sir."

Two days afterward a light wagon drew up in front of the hotel, drawn by a strong horse, and Walter helped the professor to put a trunk of medicine in the back part. Then he seated himself with Professor Robinson on the front seat, and they set out in the direction of the suburbs.

A new life was opening before Walter. What it would lead to he could not guess. At any rate, it promised him a living, and this was a practical advantage which he had learned to appreciate.

"How long have you been in this business, professor?" he asked.

"Ten years," answered the professor.

"How did you happen to go into it?"

"I'll tell you. Ten years ago I found myself in a tight place. I was on my uppers, as the actors say. A friend, who was a drug clerk, gave me the recipe for my balm, I borrowed a hundred dollars, had a quantity made up, and set out on the road."

"And now?"

"Now I am worth fifteen thousand dollars, well invested, and can make a good living every year."

All this was encouraging to Walter. He was eager to begin his work.



CHAPTER XX

ON THE ROAD

On a small common, near the center of the village of Brandon—for special reasons I do not give the real names of places visited by the travelers—Professor Robinson halted his wagon and signed to Walter to commence playing.

"Give 'em something popular," he said.

Walter struck up "Annie Rooney," and followed it up with "McGinty."

Within ten minutes fifty persons were gathered about the wagon. Then the professor held up his hand and Walter stopped.

"Gentlemen," began the professor, "my young assistant will soon charm you again with the dulcet strains of his violin. But it is necessary for me to combine business with pleasure, and it affords me satisfaction to call your attention to the surpassing merits of my Liquid Balm, only twenty-five cents a bottle. It is a sovereign remedy for most of the diseases that flesh is heir to. All diseases of the stomach, liver, and lungs are, if not cured, very greatly mitigated by this wonderful medicine. It is the only remedy for consumption that can be relied upon. Why, gentlemen, a year since I was selling in a small town in Ohio. Among those who gathered about me was a hollow- cheeked man with a churchyard cough. He asked me if I would undertake to cure him. I answered that I would guarantee nothing, but was convinced that his life would be prolonged by the use of my balm. He bought half-a-dozen bottles. Where do you think that man is now?"

Voice in the crowd: "In the grave."

"Not a bit of it, gentlemen. He is hale and hearty, his face is full, his color healthy, and he tips the scales at one hundred and seventy- five pounds. I was myself surprised at the extraordinary efficacy of my wonderful medicine. He used in all a dozen bottles, giving me a second order later on, and so for the paltry sum of three dollars was drawn back from the brink of the grave, and restored to life and health. Now, who will buy a bottle?"

This appeal sold eight bottles.

A saffron-faced man came forward and asked if the balm could cure liver-complaint.

"My friend," said the professor, "if you will try the balm—you ought to have half-a-dozen bottles, as it is uncertain when I shall come this way again—your liver will become O. K. and your face will be as fresh and blooming as that of a twelve-year-old boy."

This prospect seemed so encouraging that the saffron-faced man bought four bottles, and took the professor's address.

At the end of about twenty minutes Walter struck up again, a lively dancing tune, and was listened to with evident pleasure.

When all who desired the balm seemed to have invested, the professor brought out a supply of toilet soaps, and sold to the amount of a couple of dollars.

At the end of two hours he packed up his wares, Walter took a seat beside him, and they started for the next village.

"You had a pretty good sale, professor," said Walter.

"Yes; as well as I can calculate I took in about ten dollars."

Walter reflected with pleasure that his commission would amount to a dollar.

The professor had another way of utilizing remedies. When he put up for the night at a hotel, he usually succeeded in paying a part of his hotel bill in medicine or toilet articles. As his average profits on the former were seventy per cent., and on the latter forty, it may be seen that this was greatly to his advantage. Walter did not wonder that he had already accumulated a small competence.

On the fourth evening, as Walter was leaving the supper-table, a tall young man, looking something like the stock pictures of Uncle Sam, came up to him.

"Say, young fellow," he commenced, "some of us young people are going to have a dance at the schoolhouse hall, but we haven't got no fiddler. Peter Jackson, who generally plays for us, has got the lumbago and can't play. What'll you charge?"

"What do you generally pay Mr. Jackson?" asked Walter.

"Three dollars an evening."

"Do you think I can play as well as he?"

"You kin play enough sight better. He can't play no tunes that ain't fifty years old."

"Very well, I will charge you the same, that is, if the professor doesn't object."

"Go ahead and see him and let me know."

Walter sought the professor and laid the matter before him.

"All right!" was the answer. "I've no objection. You can give me one- third of the money and keep the rest yourself. Is that satisfactory?"

"Perfectly so, sir." Walter played till one o'clock. He felt rather tired when he got through, but he saw that he was making a favorable impression, and the two dollars which he would receive for himself would be of great service.

The man who first spoke to him paid him the money.

"I hope I gave satisfaction," said Walter.

"Yes, you did, and no mistake; but some of the girls were sorry they couldn't have you for a partner."

Walter blushed.

"I am afraid," he said, "that I couldn't play and dance, too."

At his age few young men are indifferent to the favorable opinion of young ladies, and Walter would have been glad to have participated in the dancing. However, just at present, money was more acceptable to him than anything else.

When the week was concluded, the professor looked over his accounts and ascertained that Walter's commission amounted to nine dollars and sixty cents. The two dollars he had received for outside services carried his week's earnings to nearly twelve dollars.

He had been out with Professor Robinson a month when he had a surprise. It was in the town of Glenwood. His violin drew the usual crowd, who were listening with complimentary attention, when a young man, who casually paused to judge of the musician's merits, started in amazement.

"By Jove!" he exclaimed to a young lady who accompanied him. "That's my classmate, Sherwood."

"What do you mean, Hugh?" asked the young lady.

"I mean that the young man who is playing the violin is my college classmate, Walter Sherwood."

"But what on earth can have put him in such a position? Is he poor?"

"He had the reputation of being rich in college, but I remember that at the close of the sophomore year he was reported to have lost his money."

"He is nice-looking!" said the young lady, after a critical examination of Walter.

"Yes, and he's no end of a nice fellow. I am truly sorry that he is so reduced."

"Shall you go and speak to him?"

"Yes; but I shall have to wait till he is at leisure."

"Then I will go home by myself and leave you to confer together; and, by the way, Hugh, you know we are to have a little company to-night. Do you think your friend would play for us? He really plays uncommonly well."

"I will invite him as a guest. I shouldn't want to treat him as a professional performer. We can afford to treat him as an equal, for he is of good family, and brought up as a gentleman."

"I am quite willing to receive him as such."

Hugh Longwood remained in the crowd, and when the playing was over pushed up to the wagon. Walter was assisting the professor in serving out bottles of the famous balm.

"You may give me a bottle, Walter," said Longwood.

"By gracious, Hugh Longwood!" exclaimed Walter. "Who would have expected to see you here?"

"This is my home. But we certainly do meet under strange circumstances. What on earth led you into this business?"

"Thrift, thrift, Hugh," answered Walter, with a smile. "Let me tell you that I am making a good living and benefiting my fellow men."

"But it is such a change from Euclid College."

"True."

"Such a come down!"

"I don't know about that. I am afraid my career there was not particularly creditable. Now I am working and earning my own living. Can you wait till we get through here? Then I will talk with you as long as you like."

"Agreed. I am curious to hear of your adventures." Professor Robinson proposed to stay in Glenwood overnight, so that Walter had plenty of time to see his friend.

"My sister is to have a party of friends this evening, and she commissions me to invite you."

"But," hesitated Walter, "I have no dress suit here."

"You look well enough."

"Besides, I am filling a very humble position."

"We know who you are, and that you are a gentleman. That is enough. Will you come?"

"Yes, I will," answered Walter, heartily. "It will be like a taste of the old life."

"And if we should ask you to favor us on the violin?"

"I shall be glad to contribute to the pleasure of the evening. But you haven't told me why you are not back at college."

"My father is anxious to have me help him in his business. His health is not what it was. Not being likely to set the river on fire in any literary profession, I decided to give up the college for the counting-room."

"I think you did right."



CHAPTER XXI

MISS LONGWOOD'S PARTY

At eight o'clock Walter reached the Longwood mansion. It would have been early for a party in the city, but Glenwood people were sensible, and, beginning early, were able to close in good season.

The house was a handsome one, and the rooms, tastefully furnished, were blazing with light, and already half full.

Walter was quite at home in society, and advancing, greeted Hugh and his sister, by whom he was cordially received, and introduced to other members of the family.

About nine o'clock dancing commenced. Walter did not think it out of place to ask the hand of Laura Longwood, being so intimate with her brother. She had just accepted his invitation to dance, when a dark- complexioned young man, dressed in the extreme of the fashion, and evidently possessing a very high opinion of his appearance and position, approached, and with a ceremonious bow said: "Miss Longwood, may I have the pleasure of dancing with you?"

"Not this time, Mr. Murdock," answered the young lady. "I am engaged to Mr. Sherwood."

Murdock upon this turned his glance upon Walter, whose dress, it must be confessed, was scarcely befitting the occasion, but it will readily be understood that he could not carry a dress suit about with him.

"Oh!" said Murdock, and his scornful glance spoke volumes.

"Let me introduce you to Mr. Sherwood, my brother's friend," continued the young lady.

"I am indeed honored by the introduction," said Murdock, bowing very low.

Walter colored, for it was evident that the tone was ironical. He bowed coldly, but did not speak.

The music struck up, and the dancing began. Though Walter was plainly dressed, he was a good dancer, and Miss Longwood had no occasion to be ashamed of her partner.

Murdock approached Hugh Longwood, who was busy in forming sets and was not dancing.

"Who is that dancing with your sister?" he asked abruptly.

"A college friend of mine—Walter Sherwood."

"He looks poor."

"I believe he has met with a reverse of fortune."

"His face looks familiar. I am quite sure I have seen him somewhere."

"He only arrived in town to-day."

"I have it! He was playing the violin for a faker on the town common this afternoon."

"Yes; it was there I met him."

"Good heavens! and you invited him to your party?"

"Why not?" demanded Hugh coldly.

"The assistant and companion of a wandering faker!"

"No, Mr. Murdock, I did not invite him, for my sister saved me the trouble."

"I don't see how you could sanction her doing it."

"It strikes me, Murdock, you are interfering beyond your province. Walter Sherwood, you will be good enough to remember, is a gentleman by birth and education, and a college classmate of mine."

"That may all be, but think of his position!"

"Suppose we drop this discussion," said Hugh frigidly. "I shall invite whom I please, and shall ask advice of no one."

"Oh, if you take it that way, I will be silent."

"It will be as well."

The dance was over, and Murdock, approaching Miss Longwood once more, asked her hand for the next dance. She accepted, and they took their places on the floor.

"I can hardly expect to equal your last partner," said Murdock, in an ill-tempered tone.

Laura Longwood looked at him for a moment without speaking. She was ashamed of his ill breeding.

"Perhaps not," she answered composedly. "Mr. Sherwood is a very good dancer."

"I did not refer to that. I referred rather to his social position."

"He is of good family, I believe, but you need not be too modest as regards yourself."

"You overwhelm me," returned Murdock, with an exaggerated bow; "and you really think me the equal of Mr. Sherwood?"

"Is it necessary to discuss this question?" asked Laura, becoming more and more disgusted with her partner.

"I think I saw the gentleman this afternoon playing the violin on the wagon of a traveling faker."

"Yes, I saw him also."

"It is an excellent position for a young man—of family!" continued Murdock, with a scornful curl of the lip.

"Suppose we change the subject, Mr. Murdock," said Laura Longwood, with dignity. "If you desire a similar position you can speak to Mr. Sherwood."

"You are really very—very amusing, Miss Longwood," said Murdock, biting his lip. "I really don't aspire to such prominence. Besides, I don't play on the violin."

"That is a pity. It is a very fine instrument."

When the dance was concluded Murdock sought another, but was rather curtly refused. His efforts to injure Walter had only led to his own discomfiture. When, a little later, he saw Walter a second time dancing with Miss Longwood, he began to hate him.

During the last hour Walter obligingly consented to play on his favorite instrument, and his performance gave pleasure to the entire company, Murdock alone excepted.

When the party broke up, it chanced that Murdock and Walter took leave at the same time. Walter was slightly in advance when Murdock, quickening his pace, came up with him.

"Mr. Sherwood, I believe," he said.

"Yes, sir," answered Walter. "I believe I am addressing Mr. Murdock."

"You are. I hope you will pardon my giving you a little kindly advice."

"I certainly will if it is friendly," answered Walter.

"Then, don't you think you were a little out of place this evening?"

"What do you mean?" asked Walter quickly. "Where was I out of place?"

"At Miss Longwood's party."

"Why should I be? She invited me."

"No doubt."

"As her brother's friend and classmate."

"That is all very well, but you don't seem to consider your present position."

"Will you be good enough to tell me what is my present position?"

"You know better than I can tell you. You are the assistant of a low faker."

"I accompany Professor Robinson as a musical assistant, if that is what you mean."

"Professor Robinson!" repeated Murdock scornfully. "Where did he get his title?"

"You will have to ask him," said Walter, smiling.

"That is not the point, however. You are in his employ?"

"Well?"

"And yet you attend an evening party given by a young lady of high social position."

"Mr. Murdock, you may be surprised to learn that it is by no means the first social party of the kind that I have attended."

"That was before you became a faker."

"You will oblige me by not calling me a faker. I am earning my living honestly. I don't know your business."

"I am a lawyer," said Murdock haughtily.

"I wish you success in your chosen profession."

"You are truly kind!" said Murdock, in an unpleasant tone.

Walter looked at him gravely.

"Mr. Murdock," he said, "you have volunteered to give me advice."

"Which you are not inclined to take."

"Because I consider you officious in offering it. Now let me give you some advice."

"I shall be grateful, I am sure."

"Then let me advise you hereafter to mind your own business!"

"You are impertinent!" said Murdock angrily.

"That is my opinion of you. One thing more; you are quite at liberty to advise Miss Longwood not to take any notice of me."

"I shall do so."

"And you may be sure that I shall not call upon her without an invitation. It is hardly necessary to say this, as I leave town to- morrow, and it may be a long time before I visit Glenwood again."

Murdock heard this with satisfaction, for Walter's good looks and the evident favor with which he was regarded by Laura Longwood had made him jealous. He could not help, however, launching a final sarcasm.

"Don't think me unkind, my good fellow!" he said patronizingly. "I feel kindly disposed and as a proof will ask you to send round a bottle of your balm to my office. Shall I pay for it in advance?"

"No. I will mention your request to the professor, and he will probably be glad to furnish you with his medicine. Goodnight!"

They had reached the hotel, and Walter entered.

"That fellow is a snob," he said to himself. "He wishes me to feel that one in my position cannot be a gentleman. If he is one, I don't want to be. All his sneers won't make me ashamed of earning my living by an honest use of any gift that God has given me."



CHAPTER XXII

AN ADVENTURE

Three months passed without any incident worth recording. Professor Robinson's success was variable, but upon the whole he had reason to feel encouraged. He was an excellent salesman, and his balm, though it could not perform all the wonderful cures claimed for it, really had merit, and this helped materially.

So far as Walter was concerned, he found the professor an indulgent and honorable employer, whose word was as good as his bond. Every Saturday night there was a statement of sales for the week, and Walter was paid his commission of ten per cent. Though he was obliged to make some disbursements, the largest being for a suit of clothes, he found himself, at the end of fourteen weeks, possessed of a balance of a hundred dollars. This was a source of great satisfaction to Walter, who had known in Chicago how inconvenient it was to be without money.

One day the professor found himself in a Minnesota village. He had secured a vacant lot on the principal street for the display of his merchandise. He met with rather unusual success, a local celebration having drawn a considerable crowd to the town of Warwick. Walter, after playing on the violin, passed among the crowd with a supply of bottles of balm, while the professor was expatiating in an eloquent manner upon its merits. Among the crowd his attention was drawn to a roughly dressed man, in hunting costume, wearing a sombrero with a broad brim. His face was dark and his expression sinister. His eyes were very black and keen. He looked like a Spaniard, and the thought came to Waiter that he would make an ideal highway-man. He was leaning carelessly against the fence that separated the lot from the street. As Walter approached he moved slightly and accosted him.

"Say, young feller, is it all true that he"—with a jerk of his hand toward the professor—"says about this balm?"

"Yes, sir," answered Walter, in a business-like tone. "It is a very valuable remedy in all cases of bruise, sprain, rheumatism, headache, and other kindred troubles. Can I sell you a bottle?"

"Well, I don't mind," and the stranger drew out a silver quarter and tendered it in payment.

"Do you sell much of this stuff?" he asked carelessly.

"Yes, we have large sales."

"You are making money fast, I reckon?"

"We are doing very well," answered Walter, cautiously.

"It's an easy life to lead."

"Not so very easy. We are on the road early and late."

"Do you stop here overnight?"

"No; I think we will push on to Fremont."

"You'll get there late."

"Perhaps so. We shall not commence our sales till to-morrow.

"Why is he so inquisitive?" thought Walter, and as he turned back to scan once more the face of his recent customer he became more and more distrustful of him.

"Does that man live in town?" he inquired of a boy.

"Who? That man leaning against the fence?"

"Yes."

The boy shook his head.

"I never saw him before," he said. "I guess he came to the celebration."

When the sale was over Walter and the professor went to the hotel for supper. Walter caught sight of the mysterious stranger in the barroom, and could not avoid seeing that he himself was an object of attention. Why this should be he did not understand. If only he were a mind- reader and could interpret the man's thoughts it would have relieved his anxiety, for in spite of himself he was becoming anxious and apprehensive, though he could not explain why.

At supper the stranger sat opposite him. He ate heartily and with great rapidity, yet found time to glance repeatedly at Walter and his employer, as if he felt an interest in them.

Walter sought the professor after supper and communicated to him his fears.

Professor Robinson shrugged his shoulders.

"Your imagination is running away with you," he said. "I don't see anything extraordinary about this stranger, except that he is far from good-looking."

"Don't you think he has a sinister look?"

"He is as homely as the ace of spades, if that is what you mean. Suppose he is. All homely men are not suspicious characters. If they were, how would we be judged?" and the professor laughed in a jolly way.

"You have quite decided to go through to Fremont this evening?"

"Yes; I want to reach Stillman on Saturday—there is to be a county fair there—and to make it in time we must be moving to-night."

Of course, there was no more to be said. Walter did not care to interfere with the professor's plans, and he was ashamed to admit that he was nervous and alarmed. Perhaps his fears were groundless. He began to think so when at seven o'clock the stable-boy brought round a powerful black horse to the front of the inn, and the stranger who had given him so much anxiety vaulted into the saddle and rode away, without even turning to look at him.

"Who is that fellow?" he asked of an old man who stood near, smoking a clay pipe.

The old man looked thoughtfully at the stranger, who had now ridden out of the yard.

"Seems to me I've seen that face before," he said slowly, "but I can't rightly tell where."

"He doesn't look like a farmer."

"No. If he lived anywhere within twenty miles I'd know him. He's a stranger."

"His looks don't recommend him."

"You're right there, boy."

"I shouldn't be surprised to hear that he was an outlaw."

"One of Jesse James' band, mayhap," suggested the old man, with a smile.

"Yes, he looks it."

"Well, he's gone, so he won't trouble us."

This was a consoling thought to Walter. He carried a hundred dollars in his pocket, and he had worked too hard for it to feel reconciled to its loss. The stranger, judging from his appearance, was quite capable of relieving him of it; but now he had ridden away, doubtless on business of his own, and the chances were that they would never meet again.

About eight o'clock Professor Robinson's team was brought round to the door, and he and Walter clambered upon the seat and were under way.

"Were you ever robbed, professor?" asked Walter.

The professor smiled.

"Yes," he said.

"By a highwayman?"

"No, by my assistant, a young man who occupied your place. He had been with me four weeks, and I reposed a good deal of confidence in him, as I do in you."

"I hope you won't repent your confidence in me, professor."

"I am sure I shall not. But to come back to my story, Charles Wright was a good-looking, smooth-faced fellow of twenty, and had a good turn for business. The trouble with him was that he was extravagant and never had a cent ahead."

"Did he earn as much as I do?"

"Yes, for business with me was unusually good at the time he was with me. However, he never could save money. Usually we occupied different rooms at the hotels we stopped at, but one night the hotel was crowded and we were obliged to room together. Now, as you know, I am a sound sleeper. I am asleep five minutes after my head touches the pillow, and even a thunder-storm during the night would scarcely waken me. On some accounts this is an advantage, but, as you will see, it turned out unluckily for me on the night I am speaking of. I awoke at the usual time—seven o'clock—and on opening my eyes I saw at once that my young assistant was not in the room. This gave me no uneasiness. I presumed that he had waked after a good night's sleep and was taking a morning walk. I rose from the bed, put on my clothes leisurely, and it was only after I was completely dressed that I felt in my pocket for my wallet. Then I made a startling discovery. The wallet was gone!"

"Was there much money in it?"

"About a hundred and ten dollars. Fortunately I had about fifty dollars, besides, in another pocket, so that I was not left quite penniless."

"Was your assistant the thief?"

"There is no doubt about it. He had gone downstairs at five o'clock, told the clerk he was going for a walk, and did not show up after that."

"Have you seen or heard of him since?"

"No; I may meet him again some time, but I doubt if I should have him arrested. He injured himself more than he did me. I lost a hundred dollars or more, but he lost a good place and his character for honesty. Depend upon it, Walter, honesty is the best policy in the long run."

"I am sure of that, sir."

Four miles from the hotel they entered a wood, through which the road ran for half a mile. It was dark, but not completely dark. A few stars sent down a faint light. By the light of these stars Walter descried a man, mounted on a large horse, stationed motionless in the middle of the road, apparently waiting for them to come up.

"Professor," he exclaimed, clutching his employer by the arm, "that's the man we saw at the hotel."



CHAPTER XXIII

WALTER AND THE HIGHWAYMAN

The professor was startled at the exclamation, but was unwilling to believe that the man before him was a highwayman.

"My friend," he said, "won't you move to one side? You are in my path."

"We have a little business together," said the horseman, grimly, as he drew out and presented a revolver, "that must be attended to first."

"Do you wish a bottle of balm?" inquired Professor Robinson, in a tremulous voice.

"No; you may need one yourself unless we come to terms."

"What do you mean?"

"Hand over your pocketbook, old man, and be quick about it."

"I presume you are joking," said the professor nervously.

"You won't find it much of a joke!"

"Are you a—highwayman?" gasped the professor.

The other gave a quick, short laugh.

"You may call me that if you like," he said.

Now, Professor Robinson had, as was natural, a decided objection to surrendering his money, and, though there seemed little chance of producing an effect on the mind of the outlaw, ventured to remonstrate.

"My friend," he said, "if you are in want, I will lend, nay, give you five dollars, out of a spirit of humanity; but I trust you will not jeopardize your liberty by descending to robbery."

"Five dollars won't do, old man! Hand over your wallet, with all there is in it, and dry up that Sunday-school talk."

"What shall I do, Walter?" asked the poor professor.

"I am afraid you will have to let him have it, professor."

"That's where your head is level, boy!" said the highwayman approvingly. "Just fling over your wallet, and be quick about it."

"Tell him to ride up and get it," said Walter, in an undertone.

Though the professor did not understand Walter's object in suggesting this, he was in a mood to be guided by any one, and repeated Walter's words.

"Anything to oblige," said the stranger.

"Don't give it to him till I say the word," whispered Walter.

The highwayman, lowering his revolver, rode up alongside of the wagon and held out his hand for the wallet.

Walter had conceived a bold scheme for disarming him and rendering him harmless.

"Give the wallet to me, professor," he said.

His employer meekly obeyed.

Then Walter, rising, dropped the wallet on the floor of the wagon, and reaching over suddenly grasped the revolver from the unsuspecting robber, and before he recovered from his amazement brought down the whip with terrible force on the flanks of his horse. The startled animal gave a spring that nearly unseated his rider and dashed madly down the road.

The robber was furious. As soon as he could he regained control of his steed and galloped back.

"Give me that revolver!" he shouted, in a rage.

Walter held the weapon in his hand and steadily pointed it at its late owner.

"I'll give you the contents if you don't ride off."

"Confound you, you young rascal! If you don't give me back my weapon I'll kill you!"

It was an empty threat, as Walter well knew.

"Do you hear me?" he said quietly.

The robber scanned him curiously. He had thought him a mere boy, without spirit or courage. Now he was compelled to revise his opinion of him. Threats would not answer. He must have recourse to strategy.

"You're smart, youngster. I'll give you credit for that," he said, in a milder tone. "You've got the best of me, I admit."

"Yes," answered Walter, "I have the advantage of you."

"I meant to take your money, but I won't do it now."

"Thank you!" said Walter, with an ironical smile.

"Just give me back that weapon of mine, and I'll ride off and let you alone."

"I don't think it would be wise."

The highwayman frowned.

"Don't be a fool, youngster!" he said. "Do you doubt my word?"

"I don't know you well enough to decide whether you are to be trusted, but I guess I'll keep the revolver."

"Then you will have robbed me."

"Walter," said the professor nervously, "perhaps you had better give him back his weapon. He has promised not to molest us further."

"That's where you talk sense, old man," said the robber approvingly. "You're a gentleman, you are."

"You hear, Walter?"

"Yes, youngster, you hear? Give me back my weapon and we'll part friends."

"And I trust, my friend, you will see the error of your ways and adopt some honest business."

"I will, old man, believe me!" said the robber, in a melodramatic tone. "I was not always thus."

"You will have my best wishes for your prosperity, and if you are in need I will give you five dollars."

"No, I will not take advantage of your liberal offer. Only give me the revolver and I will ride away."

"Come, Walter, give the man his revolver."

"Professor," said Walter, quietly, "you must excuse me, I can't comply with your request. This man is humbugging you. If I give him back the revolver you will have to give him your wallet too."

"Didn't I promise to ride away?" demanded the outlaw, angrily.

"Yes; but I have no confidence in your promise. Now, go at once, or I fire!"

Walter pointed the revolver full at the robber's head. He met the unflinching gaze of Walter's resolute eyes and saw that our hero was in earnest.

"Do you mean to keep my property?" he demanded hoarsely.

"No; come round to the hotel in Fremont to-morrow morning and you shall have your weapon."

With an execration the outlaw turned his horse and dashed off at full speed.

"There, he is gone!" said Walter, sinking back in his seat with an air of relief. His nerves had been at high tension, though he was outwardly calm, for he knew that he had to deal with a desperate man, and feared a sudden attack, which might have resulted disastrously for him.

"I don't know whether you have done right, Walter," said the professor, in a tone of mild deprecation.

"Surely, professor, you would not have had me give back the revolver?"

"He promised to ride off and leave us to ourselves."

"What is the word of such a man worth? He would have ridden off, but he would have carried with him your wallet and mine. Was there much money in yours?"

"Two hundred and fifty dollars."

"That's too much to lose. Take my advice, professor, and put the greater part of the money in one of your pockets. That is what I have done, for I suspected that this gentleman would lie in wait for us."

"What put it into your head to seize the pistol, Walter? If your attempt had miscarried he might have shot you."

"I don't propose to give up my money without a struggle. When the time came to act I moved suddenly upon the enemy. I did not propose to fail."