A month later North's circus had come as far on its Eastern trip as Syracuse. Robert Rudd was still with it, and again was employed in his old business of riding. The young rider regularly employed was sick, and feeling that his ankle had become strong enough, Robert had volunteered to take his place.

It so happened that Fitzgerald found himself in Syracuse at this time. Fortune had smiled upon him. He had carried the fifty dollars he received from Hugo Richmond to the gaming-table, and contrary to the usual fortune in such cases had won steadily till he had a fund of ten times the amount. Ordinarily he would have kept on, but now he had a definite object in view, and this was to revenge himself upon his faithless employer.

"Why was I such a fool as to harm the boy?" he had asked himself more than once. "The cunning villain schemed to get me into his power, and he has done so. I do not dare to expose him, because in so doing I should risk my own life. Why did I not send him out of the country merely, and then claim the reward?"

But the past could not be recalled, and though Fitzgerald heartily wished the boy alive, he always thought of him as lying dead at the bottom of a well in a far Western State. His busy brain was trying to contrive some plan of revenge, when he chanced to see a poster of North's circus. Robert's name was not on the bill, as he was only a substitute, not the regular rider.

The performance had commenced when Fitzgerald entered.

He looked on with languid indifference till the time came for Robert to enter the ring.

When Fitzgerald saw the boy, whom he supposed to be dead, riding in the ring, he was as much startled as if he had seen some one arise from the dead. Could he be deceived? No. There could be no such close resemblances between two boys as between the rider and Robert Rudd.

"Yes, it is he!" decided Fitzgerald, and his heart was filled with gladness. As we know, the gladness had a selfish source, but he was certainly overjoyed to think that the boy was alive and well.

Robert went through his usual act with his usual grace, and never suspected that his would-be murderer was looking on.

When the performance was over, Fitzgerald lingered near the tents till he saw Robert come out. It was rather embarrassing to disclose himself to the boy, who had so nearly fallen a victim to his violence, but it must be done.

"Robert! Robert Rudd!" he said, touching the boy on the arm.

Robert turned, and his face became stern when he saw at his side the man who had tried to murder him.

"You villain!" he said. "How have you the face to show yourself to me?"

"Because," answered Fitzgerald, "I am prepared to make atonement for the injury I did you. No one can be more delighted to see you than I."

"How can I trust you after what has passed?" asked Robert, suspiciously.

"Don't trust me till I show myself worthy of trust. I am prepared to do more for you than any man living."

"What do you mean?"

"Suppose that I tell you who you are, that I restore you to your relatives, that I secure for you the inheritance of a large estate, would you consider that I am making atonement for my offence?"

"Can you do this?" asked Robert, eagerly.

"I can," answered Fitzgerald.

"What are your terms, for I suppose that you do not work for nothing?"

"I stipulate nothing. When I have succeeded and you come to your own I will trust to your generosity. If that seems strange to you, I don't mind telling you that I have a selfish motive. I wish to revenge myself upon the man who occupies your place, and whom you will disinherit."

"Will you give me fuller information?" asked Robert. "Will you let me know who I am and how I came to lose my home?"

"Yes; I am prepared to tell you all. Come to the hotel where I am staying, and after you have heard me we will concert together plans for reinstating you."