Wolverton was somewhat puzzled when on his next call Dan Woods paid the balance due on his rent.

"So you raised the money after all?" he said. "I thought you could if you made an effort."

"I borrowed the money, sir."

"Of whom?"

"It isn't any secret, Mr. Wolverton. I borrowed it of a neighbor who has always been kind to me—Bob Burton."

Wolverton shrugged his shoulders.

"I didn't know he had money to lend," he said.

"He always has money for a poor man who needs it."

"All right! I shall know where to go when I need money," responded Wolverton, with a grin.

"It suits me well enough to have the boy throw away his money," Wolverton said to himself. "It will only draw nearer the time when he will have to sue me for a favor."

That day Wolverton read in a St. Louis paper that wheat was steadily rising, and had already reached two dollars and six cents per bushel.

"I could make a fine thing of it if I had only received the Barton wheat at a dollar and a half a bushel," he reflected, regretfully. "If I had only the widow to deal with, I might have succeeded, for she knows nothing of business. But that confounded boy is always putting a spoke in my wheel. If he carries out his plan, and markets the wheat, it will set him on his feet for the year to come."

This reflection made Wolverton feel gloomy. There are some men who are cheered by the prosperity of their neighbors, but he was not one of them. He began to speculate as to whether there was any way of interfering with Bob's schemes. Generally when a man is seeking a way of injuring his neighbor he succeeds in finding one. This was the plan that suggested itself to Wolverton: If he could set the ferry-boat adrift when the grain was all stored it would float down stream, and the chances were against its being recovered. It would be mean, and even criminal, to be sure. For the first, Wolverton did not care; for the second, he would take care that no one caught him at it. He did not think of employing any one else in the matter, for he knew of no one he could trust; and he felt that he could do it more effectually than any agent, however trustworthy.

Wolverton was so full of the plan, which commended itself to him as both simple and effective, that he took a walk late in the evening from his house to the point on the creek where the boat was tethered.

Now, it so happened that Dan Woods, who had been employed all day, had occasion to go to the village in the evening to procure a few groceries from the village store. He delayed for a time, having met an old acquaintance, and it was half-past nine when he set out on his return homeward.

His way led him not only by the Burton homestead, but by the river bend where Bob kept his rowboat—the same point also where the ferry-boat was tied.

As he approached, he caught sight of a man's figure standing on the bank. Who it was he could not immediately distinguish on account of the darkness.

"It may be some one bent on mischief," he thought to himself. "I will watch him and find out, if I can, who it is."

He kept on his way stealthily till he was within a dozen feet, when he slipped behind a tree. Then it dawned upon him who it was.

"It's Aaron Wolverton, as I'm a living man," he ejaculated, inwardly. "What can he be doing here?"

It was Wolverton, as we know. The old man stood in silence on the bank, peering through the darkness at the shadowy form of the ferry-boat, which already contained half the wheat crop of Burton's Ranch—the loading having commenced that morning. He had one habit which is unfortunate with a conspirator—the habit of thinking aloud—so he let out his secret to the watchful listener.

"Sam tells me they expected to get half the crop on board to-day," he soliloquized. "I sent him over to get that very information, though he don't know it. It is too early to do anything yet. To-morrow night the whole cargo will be stored, and then it will be time to cut the rope and let it drift. I should be glad to see the boy's face," he chuckled, "when he comes down to the creek the next morning and finds the boat gone. That will put him at my mercy, and the widow, too," he added, after a pause. "He will repent too late that he thwarted me. I will work in secret, but I get there all the same!"

Wolverton clasped his hands behind his back and, turning, walked thoughtfully away. He did not see his tenant, who was crouching behind a tree not over three feet from the path.

Dan Woods had no very favorable opinion of Wolverton, but what he had heard surprised and shocked him.

"I didn't think the old man was as wicked as that!" he said to himself. "He is scheming to ruin Bob and his mother. Why should he have such a spite against them?"

This is a question which we can answer, but Woods became more puzzled the more he thought about it. One thing was clear, however; he must apprise Bob of the peril in which he stood. Even if he had not received the last favor from our hero, he would have felt in duty bound to do his best to defeat Wolverton's wicked plan.

The next morning, therefore, he made an early call at Burton's Ranch, and asked for a private interview with Bob. He quickly revealed to him the secret of which he had become possessed.

"Thank you, Dan," said Bob, warmly. "You have done me a favor of the greatest importance. I knew Wolverton was my enemy, and the enemy of our family, but I did not think he would be guilty of such a mean and wicked action. If he had succeeded, I am afraid we should have lost the farm."

"You won't let him succeed?" said Dan Woods, anxiously.

"No; forewarned is forearmed. I shall be ready for Mr. Wolverton!" And Bob closed his lips resolutely.

He deliberated whether he should let his mother know of the threatened danger, but finally decided not to do so. It would only worry her, and do no good, as whatever measures of precaution were to be taken, he must take. He did not even tell Clip; for though the young colored boy was devoted to him, he was lacking in discretion, and might let out the secret. Bob did not want to prevent the attempt being made. He wished to catch Wolverton in the act.

He did, however, take into his confidence a faithful man who had worked for his father ever since the ranch was taken, thinking it prudent to have assistance near if needed.

That day the rest of the wheat was stored on the ferry-boat. All would be ready for a start the next morning, and this Bob had decided to make. He sent Clip to bed early, on the pretext that he must have a good night's sleep, as he would be called early. If Clip had had the least idea of what was in the wind he would have insisted on sitting up to see the fun, but he was absolutely ignorant of it.

Wolverton had learned from Sam, who was surprised that his uncle should let him spend almost all his time with his friends, Bob and Clip, that the cargo had been stored.

"When do they start?" he asked, carelessly.

"To-morrow morning, uncle," Sam answered.

"If I had thought of it," said Wolverton, "I would have asked young Burton to take my wheat along, too."

"I don't think he would have room for it, Uncle Aaron. The boat is about full now."

"Oh, well; I shall find some other way of sending it," said Wolverton, carelessly.

About nine o'clock Wolverton stole out in the darkness, and made his way stealthily to the bend in the creek. He had with him a sharp razor—he had no knife sharp enough—which he judged would sever the thick rope.

Arrived at the place of his destination, he bent over and drew out the razor, which he opened and commenced operations. But there was an unlooked-for interference.

A light, boyish figure sprang from behind a tree, and Bob Barton, laying his hand on Wolverton's shoulder, demanded, indignantly:

"What are you doing here, Mr. Wolverton?"

Wolverton started, dropped the razor in the river, and, with an expression of alarm, looked up into Bob's face.