Many a man who had come unexpectedly into a fortune of a hundred thousand dollars would not have felt so rich as Sam with his silver dollar. It must be remembered that he had never before had so much money at one time in his life. The prospect of spending it opened up dazzling possibilities. There were so many things that he wanted, that it was hard to decide which to select.

Among other things, Sam wanted a fishing-pole. There was a supply at a variety store in the village. He had never inquired the price, because he had no money. Now that he was wealthy he determined to inquire.

So he went into the store and, pointing to the coveted article, asked the price.

"Seventy-five cents," answered the old man, Gordon Locke, who kept the store.

"Seventy-five cents!" repeated Sam, thoughtfully.

This would only leave him twenty-five cents, and there were so many other things he wanted.

"Was you calc'latin' to buy, Sam?" asked Mr. Locke, pushing up his iron-bound spectacles.

"I don't know," said Sam, slowly; "I didn't think I'd have to pay so much."

"It's cheap, for the quality," said the store keeper. "This ain't no common fishing-pole. It comes all the way from York."

"Yes, it seems a nice one," Sam admitted.

"Hev you got the money about you?" asked the old man.

"Yes," answered Sam, unguardedly.

"Then you'd better take the pole. You won't find no better within fifty mile."

"I'll think about it," said Sam.

He could not make up his mind to part with his precious dollar so soon. As long as he had it, he felt like a man of property. When it was once changed, he would once more be a poor boy.

In spite of the storekeeper's persuasions, he walked out with his money intact, leaving the coveted fishing-pole behind.

Now it so happened that his uncle, who never allowed anything to pass unnoticed, saw from the window Sam come out of the store, which was nearly opposite.

"What business has he there, I wonder?" he said to himself.

Five minutes later he made an errand to visit the store himself.

"Good-day, Mr. Wolverton," said Gordon Locke, deferentially.

"Good-day, Locke! Didn't I see my nephew, Sam, come out of here just now?"

"Like as not you did. He was here."

"What business had he here?"

"He was looking at them fishin'-rods."

"He was, hey?" said Wolverton, pricking up his ears.

"Yes; he reckoned he'd buy one soon."

"What's the price?"

"Seventy-five cents."

"He reckoned he'd pay seventy-five cents for a fishin'-rod," said Wolverton, slowly. "Did he show you the money?"

"No; but he said he had it."

"Oho, he had the money," repeated Aaron Wolverton, shaking his head ominously. "Where'd he get it? That's what I'd like to know."

"I reckon you gave it to him; he's your nephew."

"I don't pamper him in any such way as that. So he's got money. I'll have to look into that."

Wolverton, who was of a suspicious disposition, was led to think that Sam had stolen the money from him. He could think of no other way in which the boy could get possession of it.

He went home, and sought his sister Sally.

"Sally, where is Sam?"

"I don't know." Then, noticing the frown upon her brother's brow, she inquired, "Is anything the matter?"

"I think there is. Sam has money."

"What do you mean? Where'd he get it, Aaron?"

"That's what I want to find out," and he told her of Sam's visit to the store.

"Have you missed any money, Aaron?"

"Not that I know of. You haven't left any round?"

"No."

"It stands to reason the boy has taken money from one of us. Even if he hasn't, whatever he has belongs to me by right, as I am takin' care of him."

"Half of it ought to go to me," said Sally, who was quite as fond of money as her brother.

"I don't know about that. But where's the boy?"

"I don't know. He may have gone over to see the Burtons. He's there most of the time."

"I'll foller him."

Aaron Wolverton went into the shed, and came out with a horse-whip. He did not keep a horse, but still he kept a whip. For what purpose Sam could have told if he had been asked.

"If the boy's become a thief, I want to know it," said Wolverton to himself.

Sam had really started on the way to the Burtons. His uncle struck his trail, so to speak, and followed him. He caught up with his nephew about half a mile away. Sam had thrown himself down on the ground under a cotton-wood tree, and gave himself up to pleasant dreams of the independence which manhood would bring. In his reverie he unconsciously spoke aloud. "When I'm a man, Uncle Aaron won't dare to boss me around as he does now."

The old man, creeping stealthily near, overheard the words, and a malicious smile lighted up his wrinkled face.

"Oho, that's what he's thinkin' of already," he muttered. "What more?"

"I wish I could live with the Burtons," proceeded the unconscious Sam. "They would treat a boy decently."

"So I don't treat him decently," repeated Wolverton, his small eyes snapping.

He had by this time crawled behind the trunk of the tree under which Sam was reclining.

"I sometimes think I'd like to run away and never come back," continued Sam.

"You do, hey?" snarled Wolverton, as he stepped out from behind the tree.

Sam jumped to his feet in dire dismay, and gazed at his uncle panic-stricken.

"Did you just come?" he stammered. "I didn't hear you."

"No, I reckon not," laughed his uncle, with a queer smile. "So you want to get quit of your aunt and me, do you?"

"I don't reckon to live with you always," faltered Sam.

"No; but you ain't a-goin' to leave us just yet. There's a little matter I've got to inquire into."

Sam looked up inquiringly.

"What is it?"

"What did you go into Locke's store for?" demanded his uncle, searchingly.

"I just went in to look round," answered Sam, evasively.

"You went to look at a fishing-pole," said Aaron Wolverton, sternly.

"What if I did?" asked Sam, plucking up a little courage.

"Did you have the money to buy it?"

"Ye—es," answered Sam, panic stricken.

"How much money have you got?"

"A dollar."

"Which you stole from me!" asserted Wolverton, with the air of a judge about to sentence a criminal to execution.

"No, I didn't. It didn't come from your house."

"Where did it come from?"

"Mrs. Burton gave it to me—for my birthday."

"I don't believe it. It's one of your lies. Give it to me this instant."

Poor Sam became desperate. What! was he to lose the only money of any account which he ever possessed? He was not brave, but he made a stand here.

"You have no right to it," he said, passionately. "It's mine. Mrs. Burton gave it to me."

"I tell you it's a lie. Even if she had done so I should have the right, as your uncle, to take it from you. Give it to me!"

"I won't!" said Sam, desperately.

"Won't, hey?" repeated Wolverton, grimly. "Well, we'll see about that."

He raised the horse-whip, and in an instant Sam's legs—he was standing now—felt the cruel lash.

"Won't, hey?" repeated his uncle. "We'll see."

"Help!" screamed Sam. "Will no one help me?"

"I reckon not," answered his uncle, mockingly, and he raised his whip once more.

But before the lash could descend, it was snatched from him, and, turning angrily, he confronted Bob Burton, fierce and indignant, and saw Clip standing just behind him.