All at once, five minutes after Bean had left the wagon, the tall form of Saul Gridley appeared in the center of the road. He smiled grimly.

"So you have come back?" he said, as Gerald pulled up.

"Yes," answered Gerald, calmly, though his heart beat rapidly with excitement.

"That was a mean trick you played on me!"

"What do you mean?"

"You know well enough. You thought yourself very smart, when you rode off with the gold and left me a box of gravel stones!"

"I didn't care to give you the gold. You asked me to give you the tin box, and I did so!"

"Yes; but you knew what I wanted. Didn't it occur to you that I would stop you on your return from the bank?"

"Well, you have done so! What do you propose to do?"

"To flog you within an inch of your life!" said the tramp savagely. "Just get out of the wagon, and we will proceed to business!"

As he spoke he seized the bridle, and Gerald felt that the crisis had come. He drew the whistle from his pocket, and blew a loud blast upon it.

Saul Gridley was startled by the whistle. What did it mean? He decided that it was only a ruse, intended to frighten him.

"None of your fooling!" he exclaimed, angrily. "It won't do any good. Get down from the wagon immediately!"

"Thank you. I would rather not," said Gerald, composedly.

"Then, my boy, I will pull you down!"

He started to carry out his threat, when something happened that really startled him. A bullet whizzed by his ear.

"What!" he began, in a startled tone, but the sentence was not finished, for, darting from a covert where he had been concealed, Louis Bean made his appearance on the scene. Saul Gridley stared at him with dazed countenance.

"What are you about there, you rascal?" demanded Bean, sternly.

Saul Gridley was a man who could act the bully with one inferior to himself in strength, but he was a coward in the presence of his physical superior.

"Why did you fire at me?" he asked, nervously. "You might have killed me!"

"I don't think any one would have missed you. But you have not answered my question. What were you doing?"

"I—I was just having a little talk with the boy," he answered, stammering.

"Oh, that is all, is it?"

"Yes."

"What did he say to you, Gerald?"

"He ordered me to get out of the wagon, and threatened to flog me within an inch of my life."

"That is what you call having a little talk," said Bean. "What have you to say to this?"

"The boy must have misunderstood me," stammered Gridley.

"I don't mean that you shall misunderstand me! You attempted to rob this boy a few hours ago."

"I did not rob him. Ask him if I did."

"No; because he was too sharp for you. What is your name?"

"Saul Gridley," answered the tramp, reluctantly.

"How long have you been in this neighborhood?"

"Two days."

"It is not a healthy neighborhood for a man in your line of business. If your attempt at robbery should become known in Campville, you would probably be strung up without delay. However, don't let me interfere with your plans. You want to flog the boy. Well, proceed with your flogging!"

"That was only a joke," said Saul Gridley, beginning to look nervous and apprehensive.

"Then suppose you try to flog me. I offer myself in the place of the boy."

"I don't care to undertake it."

"That is where you are wise. You would find it the biggest contract you ever undertook. Gerald, what——"

"Let me go!" said Saul, nervously.

"I think I had better take you to Campville in the wagon."

"No, no—they would kill me!" ejaculated Saul, livid with fear.

"I will leave it to the boy. What shall I do with this man?"

"Let him go, if he will promise to leave the neighborhood at once."

"You hear? Will you agree to that?"

"Yes," was the eager answer.

"And will you promise never to come back?"

"Yes; I promise solemnly!"

"You had better keep your promise. When Gerald tells of your attempt to rob him, some of his friends may start out to hunt you down."

"Don't tell till to-morrow," entreated Saul.

"No, I won't. I'll give you time to get away," said Gerald.

"You'd better start at once," added Bean.

Saul Gridley lost no time in following this advice. When he was a hundred yards away, Louis Bean fired at him, taking care not to hit him. It is needless to say that the fugitive increased his speed and soon was out of sight.

"He is badly scared," said Bean, laughing. "I don't think we shall have any more trouble with him."

Arrived at Campville, Bean got out at the grocery store, where Gerald left the wagon. He went back at once to the Nixon house.

The old man's eye brightened when Gerald entered.

"I am glad you have come back," he said. "I felt lonely while you were away."

"I am glad you missed me," said Gerald, gently. "I deposited the money in the bank, and here is the bank-book."

"Very well. You may put it in my desk."

"Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Nixon? Was your dinner brought over from the boarding-house?"

"Yes; but I did not have as much appetite when eating alone."

"Yet you lived alone for years?"

"It was not living—it was only existing. Now I feel much better since Mr. Nugent has forgiven me and allowed me to make atonement. Have you written to him since you came here?"

"No. I should like to do so. Have you paper and ink?"

"You will find writing materials in the desk."

"If I can do nothing for you, I will write at once."

"Do so."

Gerald wrote briefly, giving an account of his arrival in Campville, and the condition in which he found the man to whom he was sent.

When he had finished, he asked: "Won't you add a few lines, Mr. Nixon?"

"I don't feel equal to writing, but I will dictate if you will write for me."

"I will do so with pleasure."

Gerald paused with his pen in readiness. After a short time Thomas Nixon began to dictate:

"Mr. Nugent—Dear Sir: I cannot thank you sufficiently for your kindness in overlooking my serious offense, and for sending me Gerald Lane. I was surprised at first that you chose so young a messenger, but already I have seen enough to justify your choice. He has made a new man of me, and provided me with a more comfortable home. I very much needed some one to help me in my business, for I am too old and feeble to attend to it myself.

"One thing I wish to say, that I do not wish you to be at any expense on my account. I will see that Gerald's expenses are paid, and that he has a satisfactory salary. I suppose I am accounted a miser by people in the village, but it is true that I do not care much for money, though I think it a duty to take care of what I have, and with it make what amends I can for my past transgressions. I will see that all the expenses which you have already incurred are paid. A new life is opening before me, thanks to your kind arrangements, and I hope that the close of my life may be more creditable than the years that are passed.

"Respectfully and gratefully,

"Thomas Nixon."

Gerald put the two letters in an envelope, and carried them to the post-office. This was in one corner of the grocery store, and Joe Loche, who seemed to be the busiest and most important man in Campville, was the postmaster.

Looking ahead a few days, we will follow the letter to Portville.

It gave great satisfaction to Mr. Nugent, as it confirmed his judgment in selecting so young a messenger. At times it had occurred to him that he was perhaps unwise in throwing so much responsibility on a boy of sixteen, yet it had not seriously weakened his faith in Gerald.

The letter removed all doubts.

Two hours after the letter was received he was told that a lady wished to see him.

"Who is it?" he asked; but the servant was a new one, and could not answer.

"Show her up!" he said, briefly.

Directly Mrs. Lane entered his presence.

"Take a seat, Mrs. Lane," said Mr. Nugent, courteously. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

"I wish to know if you have heard from Gerald?" said Mrs. Lane, abruptly.

"I have just received a letter from him."

"May I see it?"

"I must decline your request, since the letter is to a certain extent confidential."

"You will, at any rate, tell me where the boy wrote from?"

John Nugent hesitated.

"As he is my stepson, I have a right to know."

"I am glad that you show an interest in your stepson. He writes me from Montana."

"Montana!" ejaculated Mrs. Lane. "Is not that a long distance away?"

"Two thousand miles or more."

"And he is only a boy!"

"True, but he has the sense and discretion of a young man."

"I am aware that you have an exalted opinion of Gerald," said Mrs. Lane, looking annoyed. "I consider my Abel quite his equal in the qualities you name."

"I am not well acquainted with Abel," said Mr. Nugent, courteously. "If you are correct, I think you are to be congratulated."

"How long will Gerald be away?"

"I cannot tell at present. The gentleman to whom I sent him is much pleased with him, and will give him a good salary."

"Will you give me his address?"

"I do not feel at liberty to do so; but if you will leave any letter with me, I will forward it."

"You seem to forget that I am his stepmother."

"No, I do not. If I hear anything connected with him which warrants it, I will notify you."

"I wish Abel had his chance," thought Mrs. Lane, as she rose to go. "Mr. Nugent is infatuated with that boy."