Arrived in Chicago, Fitzgerald put up at the Sherman House, and of course Robert accompanied him.

Our hero was a little puzzled to understand why he had been engaged. Little or nothing was given him to do. Once or twice he had been employed to buy tickets, or go on small errands, but his office seemed to be a sinecure. This would have suited many boys, but Robert was a boy of active temperament, and felt happier to be employed. I may remark here that, in general, nothing is worse for a boy than to be absolutely unemployed, for it is as true as the old proverb expresses itself, that "Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do."

One day Robert ventured to remark to his employer, "I am afraid, Mr. Fitzgerald, I am not earning my wages; I am quite ready to do more."

"That isn't your fault, Robert," said Fitzgerald. "It is true, while we are travelling I don't find much to do; but when we get to our destination I shall keep you more busy."

"I am glad of that," said Robert, "for I feel better to be employed."

"I believe I have never said anything about the object of my journey," Fitzgerald continued.

"No, sir."

"I am employed by certain New York parties to look after land and mining investments at the West. I shall have to visit several places, and there will be more or less writing to do, in which I shall employ you. By the way" (they were now in the hotel at Chicago), "I will dictate a letter to you now."

"Very well, sir."

Robert took out writing materials and Fitzgerald dictated the following:

"Ashley Robinson, Esq., 549 Broadway, New York:

"Dear Sir: I am not quite sure as to the tenor of my instructions from you. Do I understand that I am empowered to sell your land without further communication with you, or do you wish me to apprise you of any offer I may receive? My own impression is that you ought not to accept less than $5000 for it, as it is sure to increase in value. Please write me at once.

"Yours truly,
"John Fitzgerald."

"It is done," said Robert.

"You may go out and mail it. I should prefer that you would take it to the post-office yourself, as it will go quicker than if you mailed it in the hotel, or put it in one of the street boxes. Any one will tell you where the post-office is."

Robert went out, well pleased to have something to do, and mailed the letter at the city post-office, as directed.

Fitzgerald laughed to himself after the boy went out.

"The boy little suspects that that is a bogus letter, and that there is no such person as Ashley Robinson in New York. If there is, I haven't the honor of knowing him. It was rather a happy idea of mine, as the boy's suspicion will not be so easily aroused if he thinks I am engaged in a legitimate business journey. Well, well, I shall be glad when the job is accomplished, for it isn't overmuch to my taste. That villain Hugo might find it to his mind. It is a pity that such fellows should succeed in feathering their nests and getting all the good things of this life. When this work is done, I shall have a hold upon him, and it won't be my fault if I don't make him pay handsomely for doing his dirty work for him."

Presently Robert returned.

"Did you mail the letter?" asked his employer.

"Yes, sir."

"That is well, for it was an important one."

"You forgot to tell your correspondent where to write you," said Robert, to whom the omission had occurred as he was returning.

Fitzgerald was for a moment embarrassed, but he was a man of ready wit.

"Oh, he will know," he answered; "he will address me at the town where his land is located."

This seemed a plausible explanation, and Robert said no more.

They walked to the railroad station with their valises in hand.

On the way rather a rough-looking man accosted Fitzgerald.

"Why, Fitz, old fellow, how did you drop down here?"

Fitzgerald flushed, and answered hurriedly—

"I came by cars from New York."

"I don't mean that. What's your lay, and who have you got with you?"

"Excuse me, Brandon, I am in a hurry," Fitzgerald answered, uncomfortably.

Brandon whistled.

"Something mysterious, eh?" he said.

"Not at all, but you must excuse me."

It seemed peculiar to Robert, who had seen considerable of the world, that a reputable business man should be addressed in the terms employed by Brandon, and he looked his surprise.

"That man is an acquaintance I stumbled across in one of my business journeys," explained Fitzgerald when they passed on, "and he assumed undue familiarity. A man stumbles across some strange acquaintances; I prefer to steer clear of such parties, but it is sometimes hard to shake them off."

"He seemed very well acquainted," thought Robert, but he said nothing. In fact he was considerably at a loss what to think of his employer, who chose to say very little of his past history. He felt that he should not care to remain long with him, but for the present there seemed no objection to fill up the remainder of the season in his employ.

From Chicago Robert and his employer travelled northwest, till they entered the State of Minnesota. Here, somewhat to Robert's surprise, they left the cars at a small town, which I will call Florence, and registered at a small hotel, which I will call the Dearborn House. Probably our hero looked surprised, and Fitzgerald volunteered an explanation.

"It is here where Mr. Robertson's land is located," he said.

"I thought it was Mr. Robinson—Ashley Robinson," said Robert.

"To be sure," returned Fitzgerald, rather disconcerted, for he had forgotten the name he had extemporized in Chicago; "I am always making mistakes about names. I have to enter everything in my diary."

The morning after, Robert chanced to pick up a piece of paper just outside his employer's door. As there seemed to be writing upon it he picked it up, thinking that it might be of some importance.

On the scrap of paper there was a name which immediately arrested Robert's interest—the name of Hugo Richmond.

"Richmond," repeated Robert, in surprise. "Why, that is the name of the man I was said so strongly to resemble. Is it possible that Mr. Fitzgerald knows him?"

Then he bethought himself that Richmond was not an uncommon name and there was no necessary connection between Hugo Richmond and the Julian Richmond whom he resembled. Still the discovery of this paper made him thoughtful. He would have liked to question his employer, but felt instinctively aware that it would do no good. Besides, from the manner in which he had found the paper, it would seem as if he were trying to spy out his master's affairs.

"Robert," said Fitzgerald, after breakfast, "let us go out and take a walk."

"With pleasure," answered the boy, politely.

"I am going out to take a look at Mr. Robinson's land," said Fitzgerald.

"Has he much?"

"Oh, yes; he owns a quarter section, which he took up some years since at the government's price—a dollar and a quarter an acre. It must be worth a good deal more now."

"I suppose he wants to sell?"

"Yes. He lives so far away that he can't well look after it. Besides, by selling now he can make a large profit."

"Do you think you can sell it readily, Mr. Fitzgerald?"

"Yes; I have written to a land speculator to meet me here to-morrow. I think I can drive a bargain with him. I shall make a good commission myself on the sale."

"I am glad of it," said Robert, politely.

They left the road, and went across the fields over the level, prairie-like land. In the distance was a deserted cabin, which appeared to be partially burned.

"Are you going to that cabin?" asked our hero.

"Yes," answered his employer. "That cabin is on Mr. Robinson's land."

"Did he build it?"

"No; it was built by a squatter, who took advantage of the owner being a non-resident, and made himself at home here, without leave or license. The cabin had not been erected long, however, before it caught fire and was partially burned."

"Does any one live there now?"

"No."

The two kept on their way till they reached the deserted cabin.

A rod or two distant was an open well, which seemed, as well as the cabin, to be disused.

"The squatter seems to have dug a well," said Robert.

"Yes; I wonder whether it is deep," said Fitzgerald.

Naturally Robert advanced till he stood on the brink of the well. An instant later and he was pushed violently forward and fell into the yawning pit.

"That disposes of him forever!" said Fitzgerald, and turning, he fled swiftly from the spot, leaving the victim of his treachery to his fate.