"You were very quick. You were like a flash of lightning."

"I meant to be," said Walter, smiling. "I haven't attended a gymnasium for nothing."

"Do you think he will attack us again?" asked the professor timidly.

"No; he has no revolver and I have. Besides, I don't mean to be taken at a disadvantage. If yon will drive, I will hold the revolver ready for instant use."

There was no further interruption during their ride, and about ten o'clock they drew up in front of the hotel in Fremont. Rooms were secured, and both Walter and the professor retired to rest.

About seven o'clock the next morning there was a knock at Walter's door. He opened it, half dressed, and found a boy of sixteen with a note in his hand.

"A gentleman gave me this for you," he said.

Walter opened the note and read these lines, which had been hastily scribbled:

"Give the bearer my revolver. I have a long journey before me and shall need it.

"YOU KNOW WHO."

"Where is the gentleman who gave you the note?" asked Walter.

"Down the road a piece. He asked me to be quick."

"Tell him," said Walter, putting the note in his vest pocket, "that he will have to come here himself."

He finished his toilet and went down to breakfast, but the robber did not put in an appearance. He probably thought that Walter was laying a trap for him.



CHAPTER XXIV

AN ATTEMPT TO RECOVER THE REVOLVER

As Walter had been brought up with a strict sense of honesty, he was somewhat in doubt whether he ought to keep the revolver, which was a handsome one, silver-mounted. He decided, however, that it would be quixotic to disarm himself and put the outlaw in a position to renew his attack, as he undoubtedly would, if only because he would wish to get even with the boy who had humiliated him. Walter had, to be sure, promised to give it up if the owner called for it, but he meant at the same time to secure his arrest.

He did not mention to the professor that he had received a letter from the owner of the weapon, as his employer would have insisted upon his giving it up. Professor Robinson was a timid man, and, though he was of stout build and possessed a fair measure of strength, he had not as much spirit as some boys of ten.

"What are you going to do with the revolver, Walter?" he asked uneasily, as they set out on their way from Fremont to Stilwell.

"I am going to carry it with me, professor."

"Then you had better withdraw the charges."

"Why should I?"

"The weapon might go off."

"I mean that it shall if the owner makes another attack upon us."

"You don't think he will?" asked the professor, nervously.

"I think it very probable."

"I wish we had never met him," said the unhappy professor.

"So do I; but as we have, we must make the best of it."

"If you had only given him back the revolver we should have had no more trouble."

"Pardon me, professor, I think we should have had a great deal of trouble. Once give the fellow his old advantage over us and he would use it."

"I never had such an experience before," complained the professor, looking at Walter reproachfully, as if he thought that somehow it was the fault of his young assistant.

Walter smiled.

"Do you know, professor," he said, "your remark reminds me of a statement in an Irish paper to this effect: 'Several persons have died during the last year who never died before.'"

"I don't see the point," said the professor, peevishly.

They were about half-way to the next town when Walter heard the sound of a galloping horse behind him.

Looking out of the side of the wagon, he saw the now familiar figure of the outlaw as he rode up alongside. He looked critically at Walter, and saw that the coveted revolver was in our hero's hand, ready for action.

"Why didn't you give the revolver to my messenger this morning, boy?" he demanded, with a frown.

"I didn't think it would be safe," Walter answered significantly.

"Didn't you know it was my property?"

"I wasn't sure of it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I didn't know whether you had paid for it."

"You are impudent. Professor Robinson, will you make the boy give me back my revolver?"

"I have told him to," answered the professor, in an apologetic tone, "but he won't obey me."

"Then why don't you discharge him? I wouldn't keep a boy in my employ who disobeyed me."

"I am well satisfied with him, except on this point."

"I am ready to leave you, professor, if you say the word," said Walter, and he made a motion as if to jump out of the wagon.

"No, no!" exclaimed the professor, in alarm. "I don't want you to leave me."

"Then I won't. I think it might be bad for you if I did," said Walter, with a significant look at the horseman.

"Well, boy," said the outlaw, harshly, "I can't waste my time here. You sent me a message to come for my revolver myself if I wanted it."

"Yes."

"Well, here I am. Now give me the weapon."

"I think I shall have to decline."

"Are you going back on your word?" demanded the outlaw.

"Not exactly."

"Then what do you propose to do?"

"Keep along with us till we reach Stilwell. Then we will go before a magistrate. You will make your demand for the weapon, and in his presence I will surrender it."

"Do you take me for a fool?" thundered the robber.

"No, and I want you to understand that I am not a fool, either."

"You are acting like a fool and a knave."

"I should certainly be acting like a fool if I gave up the revolver, and had it immediately pointed at me or my companion, with a demand for our money."

"But I gave you my word—"

"Of course you did, but I put no confidence in your word."

While this conversation was going on the poor professor looked on and listened with an expression of helplessness on his broad face. He was essentially a man of peace, and was by no means fitted to deal with a highwayman.

"Look here," said the outlaw, after a pause, and in a milder tone, "I have a special attachment for that weapon, or I would drop the whole matter and buy another one. But this was given me by an old pal, now dead, and I set great store by it. Professor, although the revolver is mine by rights, I will waive all that and offer you twenty-five dollars for it. That will pay you for all the trouble I have put you to."

Professor Robinson, though not a mean man, was fond of money, and this offer tempted him. It would be getting twenty-five dollars for nothing, and that was a piece of good luck not likely to present itself every day.

"I accept your offer," he said gladly.

"But I don't," put in Walter, calmly. "Allow me to say that the professor has no claim to the weapon. I took it with my own hand, and it has never been in his possession."

"All right! Then I'll give you twenty-five dollars for it."

"I decline your offer."

"I'd like to wring your neck, you young thief!"

"I have no doubt you would."

"Once more, and for the last time, will you give me back that revolver?"

"I have told you when and on what conditions I would surrender it."

"When?"

"At Stilwell, in the presence of a magistrate."

"You are very crafty. You want me to be arrested for attempted robbery."

"Yes, that is my wish."

"I've a great mind to snatch the revolver from you."

"Come on, then!" said Walter, holding it firmly, pointing at the outlaw.

"You've got the drop on me, youngster, but mark my word, I'll have that weapon yet, and I'll punish you for giving me all this trouble."

"Have you anything more to say?"

"No."

"Then suppose you ride on. We have been delayed long enough."

The robber did go, but aimed a volley of imprecations at Walter, of which the latter took no notice.

In the early evening they arrived at Stilwell and secured rooms at the hotel.

Among the guests was a cattleman from Dakota, who had been to Chicago with a herd of cattle and was now on his way back. He was loud in his complaints of a highwayman whom he had met two days previous, who had relieved him of a wallet containing five hundred dollars.

"Won't you describe him?" asked Walter, struck by a sudden suspicion.

The cattle dealer did so. His description tallied with the personal appearance of Walter's enemy.

"Was he on foot?" asked Walter.

"No; he was on a black horse."

Walter nodded.

"I know him," he said.

"Has he robbed you?"

"No; I have robbed him."

"What do you mean?" inquired the cattle dealer, in wonder.

"Do you recognize this?" and Walter exhibited the revolver.

"Yes; it looks like the revolver he pointed at me."

"Probably it is."

"But how do you happen to have it?"

"I took it from him."

"You—a mere boy!" exclaimed the cattle dealer, incredulously.

"Yes. I will tell you about it."

And Walter gave an account of the circumstances under which the revolver had come into his possession.

"It is a handsome weapon," said the cattle dealer, taking it into his hands and examining it. "It must be worth a hundred dollars."

"I think I shall keep it for my own use," said Walter, quietly.

"I'll give you seventy-five dollars for it."

"I would rather not part with it. Indeed, I should not feel justified in selling it, considering the way it came into my hands."

"Well, boy, you're a smart one; but I surmise you haven't seen the last of the owner."

The speaker was right.



CHAPTER XXV

DICK RANNEY'S SCHEME

Dick Ranney—for the first time we give the name of the highwayman— had no intention of going away without his revolver. It had been his constant companion for years, and had served him well during his connection with the famous band of Jesse James. Now, his leader dead, he was preying upon the community on his own account. So daring and so full of resources was he that he had never been arrested but once, and then managed to escape from the cabin in which he was temporarily confined.

The weapon he was so anxious to recover had been given him by his old commander, and for this reason, and also because the revolver was a very handsome and valuable one, he was willing to expose himself to the risk of capture in order to recover it.

The opposition he met with from a "beardless boy"—as he styled Walter—irritated and surprised him. He was fifty pounds heavier than Walter, and he had expected that a mere boy would give in almost immediately. But he saw that he had misjudged the lad. He was little more than a boy in years and appearance, but he evidently had a man's courage and spirit. Ranney would have secured another revolver if he had not felt so certain of recovering his own. After his last failure he began to consider what course to adopt.

It was easy to find out the professor's route. He knew that he was to stay a night at Stilwell, and to Stilwell he went. He did not venture into the village until nightfall, and then, for reasons easy to divine, he abstained from visiting the hotel.

Looking about for a confederate, his attention was drawn to a boy of sixteen who was sawing wood in front of a humble cottage half a mile from the village.

"I see you know how to work," said Dick Ranney, affably, as he leaned carelessly against the fence.

"I know how, but I don't like it," answered the boy, pausing in his task.

"I don't blame you. I don't like that kind of work myself."

"I guess you don't have to do it now," answered the boy, glancing at the neat and expensive attire of his new acquaintance.

"Well, no; I can do better."

"Are you in business?"

"Yes," answered Ranney, vaguely. "I am traveling for a house in New York."

"I should like that."

"Give me your name. I may be able to give you a place some day."

"My name is Oren Trott."

Dick Ranney took out a note-book and put the name down, greatly to the boy's satisfaction.

"By the way," went on Ranney, "do you want to earn half a dollar?"

"Yes," answered Oren, with alacrity.

"Perhaps I can put you in the way of doing so. Do you know the hotel people?"

"Yes, sir. I worked there for a short time."

"All the better. Then you know about the house, the location of rooms, etc.?"

"Yes, sir."

"There are two parties staying there in whom I am interested. One is Professor Robinson."

"Yes, I know—the man that sells bottles of balm."

"The same."

"I saw him come into town with his wagon."

"Well, I want to find what room he will occupy to-night. The fact is," he continued, as he noted Oren's look of surprise, "the man owes me quite a sum of money and is trying to evade payment."

"He doesn't look like that kind of man," said Oren, thoughtfully.

"My boy, you are young and are hardly qualified to judge of a man by his appearance. The man looks honest, I admit, but he's slippery. And, by the way, did you notice a young fellow in the wagon with him?"

"Yes, sir; he isn't much larger than I am."

"Exactly so. Well, I want to find out what room he occupies, also."

"Yes, sir," answered Oren, looking a little surprised.

"You see," explained Dick Ranney, "I want to make the professor a call, and I can perhaps tell from the outside whether he is in or not. He will avoid meeting me if he can. Now, do you think you can find out for me what I require?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then go at once."

"Shall I find you here when I get back?" asked Oren, cautiously.

"Yes."

"I wouldn't like to take all that trouble for nothing."

"You won't. Here is a quarter in advance, and I will give you the fifty cents besides if you find out what I wish."

"Good for you! You're a gentleman!" said Oren, with an expression of satisfaction on his honest country face.

Two hours later Walter and the cattle dealer returned from a walk they had taken together. Walter found his new acquaintance, though not an educated man, an agreeable companion, and by no means deficient in shrewdness, though he had allowed himself to be robbed by Dick Ranney.

They went up to the desk for their keys.

"Will you two gentlemen do me a favor?" asked the clerk.

"What is it?" asked the cattle dealer.

"A gentleman and lady have just arrived and want to stay here to- night, but the number of our rooms is limited and we are full. Now, if you, sir, will go into Mr. Sherwood's room—there are two beds there— we shall be able to give the party yours."

"I have no objection if he hasn't," said the cattle dealer.

"I have none whatever," said Walter, cheerfully.

"Then we can fix it. I am sure I am very much obliged to you both. By the way, Mr. Sherwood, there was a boy here a little while since who was anxious to find out what room you occupied, also what room was Professor Robinson's."

"A boy?" repeated Walter, puzzled.

"Yes, a village boy—Oren Trott."

"I don't know any such boy."

"He is a good, industrious lad."

"That may all be, but what does he want to know about my room for?"

"That's the question I put to him. I found him very close-mouthed at first, but finally he admitted that he was employed by some man—a stranger in the village—to find out."

Walter and the cattle dealer exchanged glances. The same thought had come to each.

"Did he describe the man?"

"No; it seems he did not take much notice of him."

"Was that all the boy wanted to know?"

"Yes."

"He didn't say what the man's object was in seeking this information?"

"No. Probably he didn't know."

Walter and his new friend, whom we will call Manning, went upstairs.

"What does it all mean, Mr. Manning?" asked Walter.

"It probably means that our old friend proposes to make a call upon you during the night."

"Do you really think so?" asked Walter, naturally startled at the suggestion.

"Yes. You still have his revolver, you know."

"I think he will find me ready for him," said Walter, resolutely.

"He will find us ready, you mean," corrected Manning. "You know I am going to be your roommate."

"I am glad of that, under the circumstances."

"So am I. I should like to recover the money the fellow robbed me of. I should like to know his name."

"I can tell you that. I was examining the revolver this afternoon, when I saw a name engraved upon it in very small letters."

"What name?"

"R. Ranney."

"Then," said Manning, in excitement, "he is the famous Dick Ranney, formerly with Jesse James."

"I never heard of him."

"He is well known in this Western country. Why, there is a reward of a thousand dollars offered for his apprehension."

"I should like to earn that money," said Walter.

"You shall; and this very night, if I can bring it about."

"Half of the reward should be yours."

"I am rich enough without It. As to the money the fellow robbed me of, I shall try to recover that, though the loss won't in the least embarrass me."

"How do you think Ranney will try to get into the room?"

"Through the window. The casements are loose, and nothing could be easier."

Walter went to the window and found that there was no way of fastening it.

"I think we could fasten it with a knife."

"I don't want it fastened," said Manning.

"Why not?"

"I want Mr. Ranney to get into the room. Once in, we must secure him. If we are smart, our enterprising visitor will find himself in a trap."



CHAPTER XXVI

THE EVENTS OF A NIGHT

In the country it may safely be assumed that by twelve o'clock at night every sound and healthy person will be asleep. Dick Ranney gave an extra margin of half an hour, and thirty minutes after midnight made his appearance in the hotel yard. Thanks to the information given by his young messenger, Oren Trott, who, of course, did not know that in this way he was assisting a dishonest scheme, he was able to fix at once upon the windows of the rooms occupied by Walter and the professor.

He decided to enter Walter's chamber first, partly because he wanted his revolver, which would be of service to him in case he were attacked. Then, again, he wanted the satisfaction of triumphing over the boy who had had the audacity to defy him—a full-grown man, and one whose name had carried terror to many a traveler.

There was a long ladder leaning against the stable. Dick Ranney could not call this providential without insinuating that Providence was fighting on the side of the transgressor, but he called it, appropriately, a "stroke of luck," as indeed it seemed at the time.

He secured the ladder and put it up against the window of Walter's room. The window, as he could see, was partly open, it being a summer night.

Dick Ranney observed this with a grim smile of satisfaction.

"He's making things easy for me," he said to himself.

As softly and cautiously as a cat he ascended the ladder, but not softly enough to escape the vigilant ear of Manning, who was expecting him.

Manning at the sound stepped from the bed—he had thrown himself on the outside, without undressing—and stepped into a closet, as he did not wish Ranney to learn that there were two persons in the chamber. Walter was awake, but he lay in bed motionless and with his eyes closed. The revolver was in Manning's hands, but he had placed his clothing temptingly over a chair between the bed and the window, but in such a position that his companion on coming out of the closet would be between the window and the burglar. Dick Ranney stood on the ladder and looked in.

What he saw reassured him. Walter was in bed, and seemed to be fast asleep.

"The coast is clear," he murmured softly. "Now, where is the revolver?"

He could not see it, but this did not trouble him. Probably the boy had it under his pillow, and in that case he could obtain it without trouble. Meanwhile, it would be well to secure the boy's pocketbook. Though he underrated Walter's wealth, he thought he might have twenty dollars, and this would be worth taking.

He lifted the window softly and entered the room. In order to deaden the sound of his steps he had taken off his shoes and placed them on the ground beside the foot of the ladder.

Having entered the room, he strode softly to the chair over which Walter had thrown his clothes and began to feel in the pockets of his pantaloons. There was a purse in one of the pockets which contained a few small silver coins, but it is needless to say that Walter had disposed of his stock of bank bills elsewhere. He felt that prevention of robbery was better than the recovery of the goods stolen.

Meanwhile, Manning, whose hearing was keen, was made aware through it that the burglar had entered the room. He opened the door of the closet and, walking into the center of the apartment, placed himself, revolver in hand, in front of the window.

Though his motions were gentle, the outlaw's ears were quick. He turned swiftly, and with a look of dismay realized that he had walked into a trap. He had not felt afraid to encounter a boy of eighteen, but here was a resolute man, who had the advantage of being armed, and well armed.

Dick Ranney surveyed him for a minute in silence, but was very busily thinking what were his chances of escape.

"Well," said Manning, "we meet again!" "Again?" repeated Ranney, in a questioning tone.

"Yes. When we last met, you had the drop on me and relieved me of my wallet. To-night I have the drop on you."

Dick Ranney paused for reflection.

"That's so," he said. "Do you want your wallet back?"

"Yes."

"Then we'll make a bargain. Give me that revolver, promise not to raise the house, and I will give you back your wallet."

"With all the money inside?"

"Yes."

"I don't think I will," said Manning, after a pause.

"Don't be a fool! Come, be quick, or the boy will wake up."

"He is awake already," said Walter, raising his head from the pillow.

"Were you awake when I entered the room?" asked Dick Ranney, quickly.

"Yes."

"Fooled again!" exclaimed Ranney, bitterly. "Boy, I believe you are my evil genius. Till I met you, I thought myself a match for any one."

"You were more than a match for me," said Manning, "but he wins best who wins last."

"Well, what do you mean to do?" asked Ranney, doggedly.

"To capture you, Dick Ranney, and hand you over to the law which you have so persistently violated."

"That you will never do," said Ranney, and he dashed toward the window, thrusting Manning to one side.

But what he saw increased his dismay. The ladder had been removed, and if he would leave the room he must leap to the ground, a distance of over twenty feet.

"Confusion!" he exclaimed. "The ladder is gone!"

"Yes, I directed the stable-boy to keep awake and remove it," explained Manning.

"I may be taken, but I will be revenged first," shouted Dick Ranney, and he flung himself on Manning, who, unprepared for the sudden attack, sank to the floor, with Ranney on top. But the outlaw's triumph was short-lived. Walter sprang to Manning's rescue, seized the revolver, and, aiming it at the burglar, cried quickly:

"Get up, or I'll fire!"

Dick Ranney rose sullenly. He paid Walter the compliment of believing he meant what he said.

"It's your turn, boy," he muttered.

"Stay where you are!" ordered Walter, and he walked slowly backward, still covering the robber with the revolver, till he reached the door opening into the entry.

Dick Ranney watched him closely, and did not offer any opposition, for it occurred to him that the opening of the door would afford him a better chance for flight.

No sooner, therefore, was the door open than he prepared to avail himself of the opportunity, running the risk of a bullet wound, when his plans were frustrated by the entrance of two village constables— strong, sturdy men.

"Dick Ranney, do you surrender?" asked Walter, in a clear, resolute tone.

Ranney looked slowly from one to the other and calculated the chances. The ladder was gone and he found himself facing four foes, three of them strong men, some of them armed.

"It's all up with me!" he said quietly. "I surrender."

"You do wisely," remarked Manning. "Now, will you restore my wallet?"

The outlaw took it out of his pocket and handed it over.

"There it is," he said. "I suppose you won't me to pay interest for the use of the money."

The two constables advanced, and one of them took out a pair of handcuffs.

"Hold out your hands!" he said.

The burglar did so. He saw that opposition would not benefit him, and he yielded to the inevitable with a good grace.

"It seems I walked into a trap," he said. "If you don't mind telling me, were you expecting me?"

"Yes," answered Walter.

"Did the boy betray me?" he asked quickly.

"No; the boy suspected nothing wrong, but his questions excited suspicion."

"Dick Ranney," said the outlaw, apostrophizing himself, "you're a fool! I should like to kick you!"

"I think you were imprudent, Mr. Ranney," said Manning,

"It was this revolver that undid me," said Ranney. "I wanted to recover it, for it was given me by my old captain. It was never out of my possession till that boy snatched it from me. I suppose it was to be," and he sighed, comforted, perhaps, by the thought that it would have been useless to struggle against fate.



CHAPTER XXVII

WALTER BECOMES A CAPITALIST

Professor Robinson slumbered on, blissfully unconscious of the events that had made the night an exciting one. When he came downstairs early in the morning he strayed accidentally into the room where Dick Ranney was confined under guard. Being short-sighted, he did not see the captive until Ranney hailed him.

"Good morning, professor!"

The professor skipped nimbly back and gazed at the prisoner in alarm.

"You here?" he exclaimed.

"Yes," answered Dick, grimly.

"But how did it happen?"

"I came to the hotel a little after midnight to make you a call, but went first to the room of your assistant."

"What, after midnight?"

"Yes. It is hardly necessary to explain what happened. Here I am!"

"Ah, my friend," said the professor, "this may be fortunate for you, if it leads you to consider and reflect upon the errors of your life."

"Oh, stow that!" exclaimed Ranney, in disgust. "I'm not that kind of a man. I follow my own course and take the consequences."

The professor shook his head sadly and went out. Later, when he heard what had happened, he said to Walter: "If that man had come into my room at midnight I should have died of fright."

"There was no occasion to be alarmed," returned Walter, "We were prepared for him."

"I—I am afraid I was never cut out for a hero," said the professor. "My nervous system is easily upset."

The plain truth was that Professor Robinson was a born coward, though he was stronger and more muscular, probably, than Grant, Sherman or Sheridan. But it is not brawn and muscle that make a hero, but the spirit that animates the man, and of this spirit the professor had very little. Yet in after years when he had retired from business and was at leisure to live over again his past life, he used to tell with thrilling effect how he and Walter had trapped and captured the daring outlaw, Dick Ranney, and received admiring compliments upon his courage and prowess, which he complacently accepted, though he knew how little he deserved them.

It so chanced that Stilwell was the county seat and court was in session at that time, and nearly ready to wind up its business. It was owing to this circumstance that the trial of Dick Ranney was held at once. By request Walter and the professor remained to bear testimony against the prisoner, and Manning also strengthened the case against him. Within less than a week the trial was concluded, a verdict of guilty was brought in, and the prisoner sentenced to a ten years' term of imprisonment.

Dick Ranney heard the sentence with philosophical calmness.

"My good friend," said the professor, "I trust that in your long years of confinement you will reflect upon—"

"Don't worry about that," interrupted Dick. "I sha'n't be in prison three months."

"But I thought—"

"Bolts and bars can be broken, professor. When I do get out I will inquire what part of the country you are in and will make you a visit."

This promise, so far from cheering Professor Robinson, seemed to disconcert him extremely, and he shortened his talk with his road acquaintance.

After the trial was over Walter was waited upon by an official, who tendered him the reward of one thousand dollars offered for the capture of Dick Ranney.

"Mr. Manning has waived his claim in your favor," explained the official, "and therefore there is no question that to you belongs the reward."

"There are two others whose services deserve recognition," said Walter; "the two constables who made the arrest."

"There is no additional sum at our command," explained the official.

"None is needed," returned Walter. "I shall pay each a hundred dollars out of the reward which has been awarded to me."

It is needless to say that the two constables, both of whom were poor men with large families, were very grateful for this substantial recognition of their services.



CHAPTER XXVIII

WALTER GOES OUT OF BUSINESS

By the time Walter received his prize of eight hundred dollars he had saved enough out of his wages to make nearly a thousand. He reflected with pride that this money had not been left him, but was the fruit of his own exertions. He resolved to say nothing in his letters home of his good fortune, but wait till he returned, when he would have the pleasure of taking his guardian by surprise.

A day later he received a letter from Doctor Mack, which had been forwarded from one place to another, and was now nearly three weeks old.

It ran thus:

DEAR WALTER: You give but scanty intelligence of your progress and success, or want of it. I respect you for your determination to support yourself, but I don't want you to carry your independence too far. As you have never fitted yourself for any kind of business, I presume your earnings are small. I should not be surprised to hear that you are straitened for money. If you are, don't let your pride prevent your informing me. I can easily send you fifty dollars, for your property was not all lost, and it is not fitting that you should deprive yourself of the comforts of life when there is no occasion for it.

"Nancy often speaks of you, and, indeed, I may say that we both miss you very much, and wish the year were up, so that you might return to us. I have hopes of righting your property, so that you may go back to Euclid College at the beginning of the fall session. I am glad to learn by your last letter that your health is excellent. Once more, don't hesitate to write to me for money if you need a remittance.

"Your affectionate guardian,

"EZEKIEL MACK."

Walter smiled as he finished reading the letter.

"I wonder what my good guardian would say," he soliloquized, "if he knew that I had nearly a thousand dollars saved up? He would open his eyes, I fancy."

He sat down at once and made a reply, in the course of which he said: "Don't trouble yourself to send me money. I can get along with the wages I receive. When I left home I made up my mind not to call upon you for help, and I am glad to say there is no occasion to do so as yet. I think my year's absence from college will do me good. I am ashamed when I consider how poorly I appreciated the advantages of study, and how foolishly I spent my time and money. If I ever go back to college I shall turn over a new leaf. I have seen something of the world and gained some experience of life, and feel about half a dozen years older than when I left college."

When Doctor Mack, a week later, read these lines he smiled contentedly.

"My experiment is working well," he said. "It is making a man of Walter. He has been a drone, hitherto. Now he has become a worker, and, though I may not like him better, for he was always near to my heart, I respect him more."

A week later Walter, on returning from a walk, found a middle-aged stranger in conversation with Professor Robinson.

The professor seemed a little embarrassed when Walter entered.

"I have some news for you, Walter," he said. "I am afraid it will not be welcome to you."

"Please let me hear it, professor," said Walter.

"This gentleman is Nahum Snodgrass, of Chicago, who has been for some years a traveler for a large wholesale-drug-house."

"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Snodgrass," said Walter, politely.

Snodgrass, who was a thin, dry-looking man, nodded briefly.

"I have just sold out my business to him," went on Professor Robinson, "and henceforth shall aim to live more easily and enjoy the presence of my family."

"I congratulate you, professor," said Walter. "I think you deserve a life of leisure."

"Mr. Snodgrass is willing to take you into his employ, but he does not think he can afford to pay you as much as I did."

"No," said Snodgrass, clearing his throat, "I find that Professor Robinson has been foolishly liberal. The ten per cent. commission which he has paid you is simply—stu—pendous!"

Walter smiled.

"I have not been in the habit of taking that view of it," he said.

"Perhaps not, but I do," said Snodgrass, firmly. "You are a very young man, and ought not to expect much pay. I will give you two dollars a week and pay your traveling expenses."

"I beg to decline your offer, Mr. Snodgrass," said Walter, politely. "I have thought of changing my business before, but was unwilling to leave the professor. As we are strangers, I need have no further hesitation."

"Young man," said Snodgrass, "I think you are making a mistake. It will not be so easy getting another place as you suppose."

"Perhaps not, but I can afford to live a few weeks without work."

"Your savings will soon go"—Snodgrass knew nothing of Walter's prize money—"and then what will you do?"

"Trust to luck," answered Walter, lightly.

Nahum Snodgrass shook his head gloomily. He thought Walter a very foolish young man.

Had Walter lost his position two months earlier it would have been a serious matter to him, but now, with a capital of nearly a thousand dollars, he could afford to be independent. As he expressed it, he could afford to be idle for a few weeks. Still, he didn't wish to remain unemployed for a long time. He felt happier when at work, but wished to secure some employment that would be congenial.

"Mr. Snodgrass," said the professor, "I think you are making a mistake in not employing Walter Sherwood."

Nahum Snodgrass shrugged his shoulders.

"I don't mean to pay away all my profits to an assistant," he said.

"But you can't get along alone very well."

"I will try, unless I can find some one that will take what I am willing to pay."

He finally succeeded in doing this. A young man of eighteen, employed in a drug-store in town, who was on the point of being discharged, agreed to take the position, and stepped into Walter's place. To anticipate a little, he disappeared two weeks later, carrying with him fifty dollars belonging to his employer.

Walter stayed two days longer at the hotel, and then, sending his valise ahead to Burnton, twenty miles farther on, started to walk the distance. He was in a mountainous country, and the scenery was wild and attractive, so that he felt that this arrangement would prove agreeable to him. He provided himself with a stout staff and started at good speed. He had accomplished about eight miles, when he was overtaken by a shabbily dressed traveler riding on the back of a fine horse. The horseman slackened his pace when he reached Walter.

"Good morning, stranger!" he said.

"Good morning!" responded Walter, turning his head.

"I am glad to have company. It's a lonesome stretch of road here."

"Yes," answered Walter, carelessly. "But there isn't any danger, is there?"

"Well, there might be. A friend of mine was stabbed and robbed here three months since."

"Indeed!"

"Yes; and though I haven't much money with me, I shouldn't like to be robbed of what I have."

"It would be inconvenient."

"Do you carry much money with you?" asked the other, in a careless tone.

Walter was not disposed to take a stranger into his confidence.

"Not much!" he responded.

"You are prudent. Are you armed?"

Walter drew out Dick Ranney's revolver, which he still carried. The stranger eyed him respectfully.

"That's a mighty handsome weapon," he said. "Just let me look at it."

Walter began to think he had fallen in with a highwayman again.



CHAPTER XXIX

WALTER BUYS A HORSE

"You can look at the pistol as I hold it," said Walter, in response to the request recorded at the close of the preceding chapter.

"I say," remarked the stranger suddenly, "don't you want to buy a horse?"

"How much do you ask for the horse?" he inquired.

"I want to get her off my hands. Give me fifty dollars, and she's yours."

Walter had a pad in his satchel and a fountain pen in his pocket. He hastily wrote out the following form:

"In consideration of fifty dollars by me received, I give and transfer to Walter Sherwood my roan horse." Here followed a brief description of the animal.

"Now put your name there, and I will hand you the money," said Walter.

"Thank you, stranger! You've got a good bargain."

"I agree to that," said Walter.

"I suppose the horse is sound?" he said inquiringly.

"Sound as a die! Don't you take no trouble about that. It goes to my heart to give her up. Good-by, old gal!"

Walter touched the horse lightly with his whip, and she bounded forward. After a few miles he reached a town of good size. Riding along the main street his attention was drawn to a printed notice in front of a store. It read thus:

"HORSE STOLEN!

"Stolen from the subscriber, on the evening of the twenty-fifth, a roan mare, eight years old and sixteen hands high, with a white mark between the eyes. Answers to the name of Bess. Whoever will return her to the subscriber, or give information that will lead to her recovery, will receive a suitable reward.

"COLONEL RICHARD OWEN, Shelby."

A terrible suspicion entered Walter's mind. He recognized the white mark. Then he called "Bess." The mare half turned her head and whinnied.



CHAPTER XXX

WALTER FINDS HIMSELF IN A TIGHT PLACE

Walter had hardly time to consider what to do in the light of the discovery he had made before the matter was taken out of his hands.

"Young feller, you'd better get off that hoss!" fell on his ears in a rough voice.

He turned, and saw two stalwart men eyeing him suspiciously.

"Gentlemen," said Walter earnestly, "till I read this notice I had no idea that the horse was stolen."

"That's neither here nor there. You'd better get off the hoss."

Walter felt that this was a command, and obeyed at once.

"Very well, gentlemen," he said. "I will leave the horse in your hands, and depend upon you to return it to the owner."

As Walter spoke he turned to walk off, but the man who had first accosted him got in his way.

"I don't want to have any trouble with you, sir. Please get out of my way, and let me go."

"Not by a long shot."

"What do you propose to do with me?"

"Take you to the lockup."

Walter was now really alarmed.

"You'll have to go with us, young feller!" said Crane.

"And leave the hoss?" asked Penton. "We'd ought to take charge of it, and get the reward."

"That's so, Penton. You go and get a constable. We'll stand by the hoss."

Penton hurried off, and returned shortly with a constable in uniform.

"What's up?" he asked.

"This young feller's rid into town with Colonel Richard Owen's hoss."

"But I'd ought to secure the hoss," said the constable, who felt that perhaps he might be entitled to the reward offered.

"Look here, Cyrus Stokes, you secure the thief—that's your lookout."

"Gentlemen," said Walter, "I object to being called a thief. I have already told you I did not steal the horse."

The constable seized Walter by the arm and walked off with him. To add to his mortification, people whom they met on the street looked at him curiously.



CHAPTER XXXI

IN THE LOCKUP

The lockup was a basement room under the engine-house. There were four cells, about four by eight, and into one of these Walter was put. The cell opposite was occupied by a drunken tramp, who looked up stupidly as Walter entered, and hiccoughed: "Glad to see you sonny."

"And I must stay in here overnight—with that man?"

"Hoss-stealers mustn't be particular," said the constable.

"Can you tell me where Colonel Owen lives—the man that owns the horse?"

"You ought to know that!"

"Is there any lawyer in this village?"

"Yes, there's two, an old man and a young one."

"I should like to see one of them. Can you ask one of them to come here?"

"It's a leetle out of my way," suggested Constable Stokes.

The constable pocketed with alacrity the half-dollar our hero tendered him, and said briskly. "I'll send him right off."

"I shay," interjected the tramp, "send me a lawyer, too."

"The same man will do for you," replied the constable. "A lawyer won't do you no good, though."

"We're victims of tyrannical 'pression!" said the tramp gloomily. "What are you in for, young feller?"

"I'm charged with stealing a horse."

"Smart boy!" said the tramp admiringly. "I didn't think you was up to hoss-stealin'."

"I am not. The charge is false."

"That's right! Stick to it! Deny everything. That's what I do." Half an hour later the outer door was opened and the constable reappeared, followed by a young man of about thirty.

"This is Mr. Barry, the lawyer," he said. "Mr. Barry, here is the key. You can keep it and let yourself out if you will be responsible for the safe custody of the prisoner."

"Yes, Mr. Stokes, I will give you my word that he shall not escape. Which is my client?"

"You don't look like a criminal, certainly," said the lawyer, with a rapid survey of his new client.

"I hope not."

"But one can't go by appearances wholly. As your lawyer, for I will undertake your case, I must ask you to trust me entirely, and give me your full confidence.

"First, let me ask your name."

"Walter Sherwood."

"It will now be necessary for you to tell me frankly whether you stole the horse or not."

"Of course I did not," answered Walter indignantly.

"You must excuse my asking the question. I did not believe you guilty, but it was necessary for me to know positively from your own lips. You must not be sensitive."

"I have no right to be, but I find myself in a very trying position."

"Of course, but I will try to get you out of it. Now, will you tell me in detail how the horse came into your possession?"

Walter told the story, and the lawyer listened attentively.

"Have you any proof of what you assert?" he asked, when Walter finished.

"There was no one present."

"I suppose not. Did no papers pass between you and this man?"

"Oh, yes!" answered Walter quickly, and he drew out the receipt which he had drawn up and got Hank Wilson to sign.

"Come, this is very important!" said Mr. Barry cheerfully. "It is a very valuable confirmation of your story. Will you trust me with it?"

"Certainly, sir."

"Is there any suggestion you have to offer, Mr. Sherwood? Sometimes I find that my clients give me valuable assistance that way."

"I wish you would telegraph to Colonel Owen to come here."

"Probably he has been sent for, but if not I will request him to come. Do you know the colonel?"

"No, sir; I never heard his name till I read the advertisement. Do you know anything of him, Mr. Barry?"

"He is the owner of a large estate in Shelby, and is a thorough gentleman of the old school."

"All the better! I would rather deal with such a man. Besides, by describing the man of whom I bought the horse I may put him in the way of capturing the real thief."

"Well thought of. May I ask, Mr. Sherwood, if you are from this part of the country?"

"No; I am a native of New York State.

"A year ago I was a member of the sophomore class of Euclid College."

"That is strange!" ejaculated Barry. "What is strange?"

"Colonel Owen, the owner of the horse, is an old graduate of the same institution."

"Is it possible?" exclaimed Walter, in genuine amazement.

"It is quite true. I am glad to have made the discovery. It will prepossess him in your favor, and this, I need hardly say, will be a great point gained. Well, I believe I have obtained all the data I require, and I will now go home and think over your case. I wish I could take you with me."

"I wish you could; I hate to be left in such a place."

"Cheer up, Mr. Sherwood. It won't be for long, I predict. You may rest assured of my best efforts in your behalf. I will at once telegraph for Colonel Owen."

The evening glided wearily away. Walter threw himself on his pallet and was nearly asleep when a confused noise was heard outside, and heavy blows were rained upon the outer door.

"What does it mean?" asked Walter, bewildered.

He listened intently, and there came to his ears a shout which made him turn pale with terror.



CHAPTER XXXII

AN AWFUL MOMENT

"Bring out the hoss thief! Lynch him! Lynch him!"

"What's up?" asked the tramp drowsily, opening his eyes.

"Bring out the hoss thief!" cried a dozen rough voices, as the battering at the door was repeated.

"They want you, young feller!" he continued, as he caught the meaning of the cry.

"What shall we do?" asked Walter helplessly.

"They don't want me," returned the tramp complacently. "It's you they want!"

"You will stand by me?" implored Walter, eager for any help.

"Won't do no good! There's a crowd of them. You're in a bad box, young feller!"

"Have you got a pistol?"

"No."

Then it flashed upon Walter that he still had the revolver which belonged to Dick Ranney.

"I will sell my life dearly!" thought Walter, "They shan't kill me without some resistance."

"Open the door, or it'll be wuss for ye!" cried a rough voice.

The door was strong, but it did not long withstand the fierce attacks made upon it. Walter, by the light that came in through a crevice, saw it sway and gradually yield to the impetuous attacks of the mob.

"Here's the hoss thief!" exclaimed the leader, throwing the light into the cell occupied by the inebriate.

The tramp was alarmed and completely sobered by the terrible suggestion.

"I ain't the man!" he said. "It's that young feller yonder."

The man with the lantern turned in the direction of the other cell.

"He's only a kid!" he said doubtfully.

"All the same, he's the hoss thief!" said the tramp earnestly.

"Is he telling the truth?" asked the leader, turning to the men who were just behind him.

"He looks most like the hoss thief!" said Dan Muggins. "The other's a milk-and-water chap, just out of boardin'-school."

"You're right! Smash in the cage!"



CHAPTER XXXIII

WALTER SAVES ANOTHER'S LIFE

Meanwhile the feelings of Walter were hard to describe. He saw that perhaps his only chance of life lay in remaining quiet and letting the mistake remain uncorrected.

On the other hand, the poor wretch was as much entitled to life as he.

"He's the hoss thief!" shrieked the tramp. "Ask him if he isn't."

The leader, who had him by the collar, paused, and the words of the captive seemed to make some impression on him.

"We don't want to make no mistake," he said. "Mebbe we might ask him."

"You hear what this man says?"

"Yes," answered Walter, in husky accents.

"Is it true? Are you the hoss thief?"

"No!"

And the poor tramp would have been dragged away, but Walter, his face pale, but resolute, held up his hand to secure attention.

"Listen!" he said. "I am not a horse thief, but I was put here charged with stealing the horse of Colonel Owen."

"Just as I said, gentlemen," chimed in the inebriate.

"Then we've got the wrong one!" said the leader. "Here, you can go!"

"We must have you!" went on the leader, approaching Walter's cell.

"What do you want to do with me?" asked Walter, with sinking heart.

"String you up! That's the way we serve hoss thieves!"

"Gentlemen!" said Walter, "you are making a terrible mistake.

"Didn't you say just now you was the thief?"

"No; I said I was put in here charged with horse-stealing."

An assault was made on the door of his cell, and within three minutes Walter was dragged out.

He began to speak, but was roughly ordered to shut up.

The line of march was resumed, and a quarter of a mile distant they passed through a gate and began the ascent of a hill, at the summit of which was a grove of tall trees. Walter shuddered and his heart sank within him, for he understood only too well what fate was in store for him.



CHAPTER XXXIV

A TERRIBLE ORDEAL

At the summit of the hill Walter's captors came to a halt.

"Young man," said the leader sternly, "your hours are numbered. Have you anything to say?"

"I have a good deal to say," answered Walter, finding his voice and speaking indignantly. "Even if I were guilty, which I am not, you have no right to condemn me to death untried."

One of the masked men, who had hitherto stood in the background, came forward, and in clear, ringing accents spoke:

"The lad says right. He has not been proved guilty, and I for one believe him innocent."

"I thank God," said Walter, "that there is one among you whose heart is not wholly hardened. I stand here a boy—barely eighteen years old. Is there no one among you who has a son of my age?"

"The boy is right," said another in a deep voice. "Men, we are acting like cowards and brutes."

"So say I!" a third man broke in, and he ranged himself beside the other two.

"This is all folly!" exclaimed the leader angrily. "You men are milksops and chicken-hearted." Walter's face flamed.

"Will you allow this?" he exclaimed, as the leader seized him by the collar and drew him to a tree.

"I won't!" said the first man to pronounce in his favor. "Seth Pendleton, let go your hold!"

"Look out!" cried Pendleton fiercely, "or you may swing, too!"

"You hear what he says," said Walter's friend. "Why are you so hard on the boy?"

"Why am I so hard on horse thieves? I'll tell you. Ten years ago I had a horse that was as dear to me as a brother. One morning I found the stable door open and the horse gone. I followed him, but I never recovered him."

"Who stole him?"

"A man named Dick Ranney, who has since become a noted highwayman."

This was astonishing news to Walter.

"Do you know where Dick Ranney is now?" he asked.

"I heard that he had been captured."

"I am the one who captured him, and for this I received a reward of a thousand dollars!" answered Walter.



CHAPTER XXXV

THE EMPTY JAIL

Walter drew from his pocket a folded paper.

"Read that!" he said.

"MR. WALTER SHERWOOD:

"I have pleasure in sending you the reward for the capture of the noted criminal, Dick Ranney.

"MILES GRAY, Sheriff."

"Shall I tell you the story?" asked Walter.

"Yes! Yes!" exclaimed more than one.

Walter gave an account of the affair in a clear, distinct manner.

"Now, gentlemen," said Walter, as he concluded, "do you believe that I would stoop to steal a horse?"

There were shouts of "No! No!"

And Walter might have gone scot free had he chosen, but he did not choose.

"No, gentlemen," he said, "take me back to the lockup.

"The door is broken!"

"That will make no difference with me. I prefer to stand trial and let my innocence be proved."

"He's a brave lad!" said more than one.

"I wish my John would turn out like him," added one of Walter's original supporters. "You shall go with me, and have the best bed in the house," he continued.

Walter accepted this proposal with thanks.

Of all that had passed during the night Constable Stokes was blissfully unconscious. At an early hour he bent his steps toward the jail. When he saw the door broken he was astounded.

He felt it necessary to report what had happened to some magistrate. He had walked but a few steps when he met Mr. Barry, Walter's lawyer.

"And how is my young client this morning, Stokes?" inquired the lawyer pleasantly.

"Blessed if I know! He's bolted!"

"That is amazing! Let me see how it was done."

"The door was broken from the outside!" he said, after a pause.

"Was it?"

"Of course it was."

"Then you don't think the men could have done it?"



CHAPTER XXXVI

COLONEL RICHARD OWEN

At this moment a boy of fifteen made his way from the street to the rear entrance. It was Arthur Waters, the son of a jeweler.

"Perhaps I can tell you something about it," he said.

"Last night I heard a noise in the street, and, getting up, I went to the window. I saw a lot of men filing through the street, all wearing masks."

"They must have been in search of the prisoners to lynch them!" said the lawyer, turning pale.

"And you think they broke open the doors, Mr. Barry?"

"Yes."

"And what would they do with the prisoners?"

"Hang them, I fear, without judge or jury."

"I don't mind the man, sir, but I hope the boy escaped."

"Thank you, constable. I am alive and well, as you see."

Both the lawyer and the constable looked up, and there, to their great relief, stood Walter.

"Where did you come from?" asked the lawyer quickly.

Walter told his story, adding: "Constable Stokes, I give myself into your hands."

"Perhaps, as I am his counsel," said the lawyer, I had better take him with me."

"Yes, that will be the best way," said the constable.

Walter was ushered into the office of the lawyer.

At this moment the office door opened, and an old gentleman entered.

The lawyer rose from his seat with alacrity.

"Colonel Owen," he exclaimed, "I am glad to see you."

"Yes, sir. I received your telegram, and came by the first morning train. So the man who stole my horse has been caught?"

"The man who is charged with the theft has been caught," said Mr. Barry.

"Mr. Barry, you have not introduced me to this young gentleman," continued Colonel Owen, eyeing Walter with favor.

"I didn't know that you would care for an introduction," said the lawyer demurely.

"Why not?" asked the old gentleman, opening his eyes in surprise.

"Because he is the horse thief!"



CHAPTER XXXVII

WALTER IS VINDICATED

"Bless my soul!" ejaculated the colonel. "Surely you are joking."

"No, I assure you I am not."

"Then how does it happen that Mr. Sherwood is sitting here in your office instead of being—"

"In the lockup?"

"Yes."

"I was taken to the lockup, Colonel Owen," said Walter, "but about midnight a lynching party broke it open and took me out.

"But I made an appeal to my captors, and was able to prove to them I received a reward not long since for the capture of the famous outlaw, Dick Ranney."

Colonel Owen sank into a chair.

"I never heard the like!" he was heard to say.

"Do you mind telling me, young man, why you were arrested, or why you fell under suspicion?"

"I was arrested while on the horse's back."

"Ha! But how did that happen?"

"I bought her of a man whom I met on the highway."

"Gentlemen," said the lawyer, "I find that the court is in session and all is ready for the trial."

"By the way, colonel, are you not a graduate of Euclid?" asked the lawyer.

"Yes, sir, and I am proud of the dear old college," rejoined the colonel, warmly.

"I agree with you," said Walter. "I have passed two years in the college."

"Then, young man, here's my hand. My heart is always warm toward a Euclid man—"

"Even if you have to prosecute him for horse-stealing," suggested Lawyer Barry slyly.

"Really, this is very painful!" said the colonel. "I wish I could get rid of it."

"You can say in court that you are convinced of the young man's innocence."

"And I will! And afterward I shall insist on Mr. Sherwood's driving home with me and making me a visit."

Great was the surprise of Mr. Crane and Mr. Penton when they saw the horse thief approach the court room arm in arm with Colonel Owen.

The trial began, and presently Crane and Penton were called on to testify.

"Did you see the prisoner steal the mare?" demanded Barry sharply.

"No, but—"

"It stands to reason that he did, or he wouldn't have had her in his possession."

"Mr. Sherwood, you may take the stand."

Walter gave a brief account of the way in which he became possessed of Bess.

"Does Mr. Sherwood's story seem probable?" now remarked the judge.

"I am convinced that it is true," said the colonel promptly.

The judge saw how matters stood and discharged the prisoner.

"We're left!" said Crane, in a tragic whisper.

"Now, Mr. Sherwood," said the colonel, taking Walter's arm, "you must accompany me to Shelby."



CHAPTER XXXVIII

AN OPENING AT SHELBY

At length they reached Shelby. Colonel Owen lived in a large and handsome mansion with ample grounds.

"Yes," he said, "I have a comfortable home, but my boys are away, and my wife and I feel lonely in this large house. It will brighten us both to have a young face at the table."

How could Walter feel otherwise than pleased. He was charmed with Mrs. Owen.

"I am glad to see you," she said. "May I call you Walter?"

"I wish you would, Mrs. Owen," said Walter.

"Did you find your horse, Richard?" she added.

"Yes, my dear."

"Did you see the man that stole it?"

"Yes, my dear," with a quiet wink at Walter.

"I invited the horse thief to come and make us a visit."

Mrs. Owen certainly was amazed.

"You did!" she ejaculated. "When is he coming?"

"He is here already."

"I don't understand you at all, Richard. You seem to be joking."

"Not at all! There he stands!" and the colonel pointed to Walter.

"What, Walter?"

"Perhaps I had better go to the hotel," suggested Walter.

"No, no! I can't believe anything evil of a young man with your face," said Mrs. Owen. "I am glad my husband brought you home with him."

"I am sure you will both be kind to me," said Walter earnestly, "and I shall appreciate it the more because I have neither father nor mother."

One afternoon Colonel Owen came in radiant.

"Well, Walter," he said, "I've got some work for you to do."

"Mr. Hayward, the teacher of our classical school, is summoned to his home. The question is, Who shall take his place till the end of the school year?

"I have mentioned your name to the trustees, who are ready to accept you on my recommendation."

"There is nothing I should like better," he said, "but do you think I am competent?"

"You ought to be able to teach any of the classes that will come under your charge. How are you in mathematics?"

"I don't think I shall have any difficulty there, sir."

"Then you're better off than I am."

"How much salary shall I receive?" asked Walter, who was beginning to grow interested.

"Twenty-five dollars a week. That's what the trustees authorize me to offer you."

"That will be quite satisfactory. How my old chums will stare when I tell them I am getting twenty-five dollars a week for teaching a classical school. I suppose," added Walter, hesitating, "I ought to look out for a boarding-place."

"What, and leave us?" asked the old lady reproachfully.

"But, Colonel Owen, remember that I shall be earning a good salary."

"You can find a use for it. It will help make up for some of the losses you have incurred. Shall I say you will accept the post?"

"Yes, sir. I will try it, and hope to succeed."



CHAPTER XXXIX

THE NEW MASTER

On the platform of the main schoolroom in the Shelby Classical Institute stood Colonel Owen and Walter Sherwood.

"My young friends," began Colonel Owen, "you are all aware that your respected teacher, Mr. Haywood, is obliged to be absent for the remainder of the term. I have been able to secure as his substitute Mr. Walter Sherwood, who will do his best to carry on the work which Mr. Haywood has so auspiciously commenced. I hope you will receive him cordially and uphold him in his task."

Walter felt some diffidence as he realized what a responsibility had been placed upon him.

He cleared his throat and spoke a few words.

"Colonel Owen has introduced me to you and expressed a hope in which I join him—that you will receive me cordially and uphold me in my work. I will now go about among the seats, make inquiries as to your progress, and arrange the classes."

This short speech made a favorable impression upon all the pupils with two exceptions. These were the largest scholars—Ben Buffum and Enoch Snow. What they thought of Walter may be gathered from their conversation as they walked home together.

"What do you think of the new master, Ben?" said Enoch.

"I s'pose he'll do. He ought to, if he's been to college; but I'll tell you what, Enoch, it riles me to have a boy of my own age set over me."

"Me ditto!"

"He would do for a primary school, but when it comes to young men like us, I don't like to let people know that he's my teacher."

"It's all right for the others to obey him, but you and I are just as strong as he, and maybe stronger."

"I guess I could floor him in wrestling."

"You're too much for me, Ben, and I think I can stand up to him, and maybe lick him."

"It's likely you can. Now, there was Hayward—he was a big man. I didn't mind obeying him."

"Are you talking about Mr. Sherwood?" asked Harry Howe, a boy of fourteen.

"No, I'm not. I'm talking about Mr. Hayward."

"How do you like the new teacher?"

"He's only a boy. He'll have a hard row to hoe."

"Who'll make it hard for him?"

"Enoch and I."

"Then it will be a shame. He seems to be a perfect gentleman."

"Gentleman! He's only a boy, like ourselves."

"At any rate, he knows enough to teach us."

"That may be, but he can't keep order."

"Why can't he?"

"You'll see whether he can or not," said Ben, significantly.

"Are you going to make trouble?"

"It isn't best for small boys to know too much."

Walter had not failed to notice the half-rebellious demeanor of his two oldest pupils. Moreover, he had been warned by the janitor of the building that they would be likely to give him trouble.



CHAPTER XL.

BEN IS SUBDUED

Ben Buffum was biding his time.

In the seat in front of Ben sat Albert Frost, a much smaller boy.

One day, toward the close of the afternoon, a loud shriek was heard in the neighborhood of Ben Buffum's desk.

Walter looked up and saw Albert in tears.

"What is the matter, Albert?" asked Walter.

"Ben Buffum stuck a pin in my leg," answered the boy. "Is that true, Buffum?" demanded Walter sternly.

"Yes, it is," answered Ben, with provoking calmness.

Walter's temper was stirred, but he asked in his ordinary tones: "Why did you do it?"

"Because I chose," answered Ben.

"Then," said Walter, giving full vent to his scorn, "you are a contemptible coward and brute!

"You forget that in this schoolroom I am the master, and consider it my duty to defend my pupils, even the smallest, from the violence of brutes."

"He'll have to pay for this," he muttered to himself. "I can lick you, Walter!" he said, with an insolent leer.

He had hardly got the words out of his mouth when Walter was upon him. He was wonderfully quick in his movements, whereas Ben, though powerful, was slow, and before he well knew what was going to happen he was dragged by the collar from his seat into the middle of the floor. Walter let go for a minute, and Ben, mad all over, prepared to grasp him in a bearlike hug. A stinging blow in the face convinced him that he had entirely underrated the powers of the teacher. He tried to return the blow, but, unable to defend himself, found his own blow parried and another planted in his chest, causing him to stagger. Then Ben lost all caution, and with a furious cry rushed upon Walter, in hope of throwing him down by wrestling. But, instead, he found himself lying on his back on the floor, looking up at the teacher.

Ben got up slowly and "pitched in" once more, but in about a minute he found himself again in a recumbent position.

"Have you had enough?" asked Walter.

"I hit my head," answered Ben, in a sulky tone.

"I hope you are not seriously hurt," said Walter, quietly. "If you would like to be dismissed now, you may go. I shall be glad to see you back here to-morrow."

Without a word, but looking intensely mortified, Ben took his hat and slunk out of the room.

When he had gone Walter said: "Scholars, I want to ask of you a favor. Ben is mortified by what has happened. I wish you would all abstain from reminding him of it. In that case the lesson he has received may do him good."

The next day Ben Buffum stayed at home, and did not show himself on the street till evening. When he found that no one spoke to him of the affair he took courage to go to school the day after. Walter overtook him on the way and hailed him in a friendly manner with: "We will forget all about that little affair day before yesterday, Ben. You are pretty strong."

"I couldn't do nothin' against you."

"No, because I have taken lessons in boxing."

"I'd like to box."

"If you'll come round and see me this evening, Ben, I'll give you the first lesson."

The scholars were very much surprised to see Ben and the teacher walking to school together, and were further surprised at the wonderful change for the better that took place in the once rebellious pupil.



CHAPTER XLI

CONCLUSION

Mrs. Deborah Simpkins, a near neighbor of Doctor Mack, was an ill- natured gossip, and had always disliked Walter because he once interfered to prevent a boy of hers from abusing a young companion. One day about two months later she put on her bonnet and with a smile of malicious satisfaction walked over to the doctor's house.

"How do you do, Mrs. Sprague?" she said. "I thought I'd run over and have a chat with you."

"Come in, Mrs. Simpkins," said Nancy, civilly, but not cordially, for she did not like her visitor.

"I've got something unpleasant to tell you," went on the widow, as she sat down in a rocker. "I'm awful sorry."

"Are you?" said Nancy, dryly. "What's it all about?"

"I got a letter from my niece Sophrony, out in Iowa, yesterday, and she sent me a cuttin' from an old paper. It's somethin' awful!"

"Is it?"

"Yes, and it's about Walter Sherwood!" continued Mrs. Simpkins, triumphantly.

"He hasn't met with an accident, has he?" inquired Nancy, turning pale.

"It's wuss than that!" answered the widow, nodding her head ominously.

"Worse than an accident?"

"Yes; leastways, I call it so."

"Let me hear it, then, Mrs. Simpkins."

"Here 'tis; you can read it for yourself."

This was the paragraph:

"A young man named Walter Sherwood was arrested yesterday, charged with stealing a valuable mare belonging to Colonel Richard Owen. We understand his trial is to take place this morning."

"When is the paper dated?" asked Nancy, who did not appear so much overcome as her visitor expected.

"Over two months since. Walter Sherwood is probably in jail now. I feel for you and the doctor," said Mrs. Simpkins, in a tone far from sympathetic, fixing her beadlike eyes on the housekeeper.

"That's very good of you, but, as we got a letter from Walter yesterday, there ain't no call to be troubled."

"Did he write from the jail?"

"Don't be a fool, Mrs. Simpkins! He wrote from the town of Shelby, where he has been teaching a classic school, and he inclosed the program of the exhibition. Perhaps you would like to look at it."

Mrs. Simpkins took the paper, and looked intensely disappointed as she saw that Nancy had only told the truth.

"He teach school! A boy like him!" she ejaculated.

"Yes, Mrs. Simpkins, and it's been a great success. They want him to go back next year, but the doctor prefers to have him finish out his college course. We're expecting him home every day."

There was a noise heard as of the front door opening, and a moment later Walter was in the room.

"Oh, Walter!" exclaimed Nancy, overjoyed, in her excitement throwing her arms around his neck. "I'm so glad to see you!"

"And I am glad to see you, Nancy, How's my guardian?"

"He's well, and will be home soon."

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Simpkins," said Walter, politely.

"Mrs. Simpkins has just been telling me that you were in jail for horse-stealing," said Nancy. "She is much pleased to find it all a mistake."

Walter laughed.

"I am still more pleased," he remarked. "I find school-teaching much pleasanter."

"I guess I must be goin'," said Mrs. Simpkins, hurriedly.

When Doctor Mack returned he welcomed Walter with a joy not inferior to that of his housekeeper.

"And so you have succeeded?" he said.

"Yes; the trustees of the Shelby Classical School want me to come back, as my predecessor has accepted a position in New York. But I think I had better return to college and finish out my course. I have a thousand dollars saved up, and a little more, and I think with economy I can pay my own way for the remainder of the course."

"It won't be necessary, Walter."

"But, as my property is lost—"

"You must forgive me, Walter, for deceiving you, but you have just as much property as ever—indeed, more, as you only drew one hundred dollars in the past year."

"But, doctor, why, then, did you lead me to think otherwise?"

"It wasn't altogether a falsehood. About a hundred dollars had been lost in an investment, and I made that a pretext for withdrawing you from college. I saw that you were wasting your time and acquiring expensive habits, so I thought the best remedy would be a year of active life, in which you would be thrown upon your own resources."

"You are right, doctor. It has made a man of me. I shall go back to old Euclid and work in earnest. I have been a teacher myself, and I understand what a teacher has a right to expect from his pupils."

"Then my experiment has been a success, and your year of probation has done you good."

"I hope to prove it to you, my dear guardian."

Walter returned to college, and two years later graduated, valedictorian of his class. The money he had earned in his year of probation he devoted to helping the needy members of his class to obtain an education. Gates alone received three hundred dollars, and it saved the poor fellow from leaving college a year before graduation. Walter intends to study law, and it is predicted that he will win success at the bar. For whatever success he may achieve he will be inclined to give the credit to his year of probation.

THE END