Tony was not slow in going to sleep. Neither his hard bed nor his strange bed-chamber troubled him. He could sleep anywhere. That was one of the advantages of his checkered life.

Generally he slept all night without awaking, but to-night, for some unknown reason, he awoke about two o'clock. It was unusually light for that hour, and so he was enabled to see what at first startled him. The old man was out of bed, and on his knees in the center of the room. He had raised a plank, forming a part of the flooring, and had raised from beneath it a canvass bag full of gold pieces. He was taking them out and counting them, apparently quite unconscious of Tony's presence.

Tony raised himself on his elbow, and looked at him. It occurred to him that for a man so suspicious it was strange that he should expose his hoard before a stranger. Something, however, in the old man's look led him to think that he was in a sleepwalking fit.

"Ninety-five, ninety-six, ninety-seven," Tony heard him count; "that makes nine hundred and seventy dollars, all gold, good, beautiful gold. Nobody knows the old man is so rich. There's another bag, too. There are one hundred pieces in that. Three more, and this will be full, too. Nobody must know, nobody must know."

He put back the pieces, replaced the bag in its hiding-place, and then putting back the plank, laid down once more on his heap of rags.

"How uneasy he would be," thought Tony, "if he knew I had seen his treasures. But I wouldn't rob him for the world, although the money would do me good, and he makes no use of it except to look at it."

If Tony was honest, it was an instinctive feeling. It could not have been expected of one reared as he had been. But, singular as it may seem, beyond a vague longing, he felt no temptation to deprive old Ben of his money.

"Let him get what satisfaction he can from it," he said to himself. "I hope he'll keep it till he dies. I am only afraid that some night some one will see him counting the gold who will want to take it."

Tony went to bed again, and slept till six. Then he was awakened by a piteous groaning, which he soon found proceeded from the other bed.

"What's the matter?" he asked.

"Who's there?" demanded Ben, terrified.

"It's only I. Don't you remember you let me sleep here last night?"

"O, yes; I remember now. I'm sick; very sick."

"How do you feel?"

"I'm aching and trembling all over. Do you think I am going to die?" he asked, with a startled look.

"Oh, no, I guess not," said Tony, reassuringly. "Everybody is sick now and then."

"I never felt so before," groaned Ben. "I'm an old man. Don't you think—don't you really think I shall die?"

He looked appealingly at Tony, as if the fiat of life and death lay with him.

Tony, of course, knew nothing of medicine or of diseases, but he had the sense to understand that the old man would be more likely to recover if his terror could be allayed, and he said, lightly:

"Oh, it's only a trifle. You've taken cold, very likely. A cup of hot tea would be good for you."

"I haven't any tea," groaned Ben. "It costs a great deal, and I'm very poor. I can't afford to buy it."

Tony smiled to himself, remembering the hoard of gold under the floor, but he would not refer to it, at least not at present.

"Are you sure you haven't got a little money?" he asked. "If you want to get well, you must be made comfortable."

"It's hard to be poor," whined Ben.

"I guess you've got some money," said Tony. "You'd better let me go to the store, and buy some tea and a fresh roll for you."

"How much will it cost?" asked Ben.

"I can get some bread, and tea, and sugar for thirty or forty cents," answered Tony.

"Forty cents! It's frightful!" exclaimed Ben. "I—I guess I'll do without it."

"Oh, well, if you prefer to lie there and die its none of my business," said Tony, rather provoked at the old man's perverse folly.

"But I don't want to die," whined Ben.

"Then do as I tell you."

Tony jumped out of bed, unrolled his coat, and put it on.

"Now," said he, "I'm ready to go for you, if you'll give me the money."

"But you may take it, and not come back," said the old man, suspiciously.

"If you think you can't trust me, you needn't," said Tony. "I've offered to do you a favor."

"I think I'll go myself," said Ben.

He tried to raise himself, but a twinge of pain compelled him to lie down again.

"No, I can't," he said.

"Well, do you want me to go for you?"

"Yes," answered Ben, reluctantly.

"Then give me the money."

Still more reluctantly Ben produced twenty-five cents from his pocket.

"Isn't that enough?" he asked.

"Better give me more," said Tony.

He produced ten cents more, and vowed it was all the money he had in the world.

Tony decided not to contradict his assertion, but to make this go as far as it would. He put on his hat and started out. He meant also to call at the doctor's, and asked him to call round, for he thought it possible that the old man might be seriously sick.

First, however, he went to the grocery store, which had only just been opened, and obtained the articles which he had mentioned to Ben as likely to do him good.

Next he called at the house of the village doctor, obtaining the direction from the storekeeper. In a few words he made known his errand.

"Old Ben sick!" said Doctor Compton. "What's the matter with him?"

Tony explained how he appeared to be affected.

"How did you happen to be in his house?" asked the doctor, with curiosity. "You are not a relation of his, are you?"

Tony laughed.

"I don't think he would let me into the house if I were," he said. "He would be suspicious of me."

"Then how does it happen that you were with him?"

Tony explained.

"He has been repaid for taking you in," said the doctor. "I'll put on my hat, and go right over with you."

After Tony left the house, old Ben lay and tormented himself with the thought that the boy would never come back. "Just as like as not," he thought, "he will go off with the money, and leave me here to die."

Then he tried to sit up, but without success.

Half an hour later he was relieved by seeing the door open, and Tony enter. But he looked dismayed when he saw the doctor.

"What did you come for?" he asked, peevishly.

"To see what I can do for you, Mr. Hayden. Let me feel your pulse."

"But I can't afford to have a doctor. I am poor, and can't pay you," whined old Ben.

"We'll talk about that afterward."

"You can't charge when I didn't send for you."

"Make your mind easy. I won't charge for this visit. Let me feel your pulse."

Old Ben no longer opposed medical treatment, finding it would cost nothing.

"Am I going to die?" he asked, with an anxious look.

"You need nourishing food and care, that is all," was the reply. "You have had a chill, and you are reduced by insufficient food."

"I have some bread and tea here," said Tony.

"Do you know how to make the tea?" asked the doctor.

"Yes," said Tony.

"Then make a fire, and boil it at once. And, by the way, Mr. Hayden needs somebody to be with him for a few days. Can you stay with him and look after him?"

"If he will give me money enough to buy what he needs," said Tony.

"Will you do it, Mr. Hayden?" asked the doctor.

Old Ben whined that he was poor, and had no money, but the doctor interrupted him impatiently.

"That's all nonsense," he said. "You may not have much money, but you've got some, and you'll die if you don't spend some on yourself. If you don't agree to it, I shall advise this boy here to leave you to your fate. Then your only resource will be to go to the poor-house."

This proposal was not acceptable to Ben, who was unwilling to leave the house where his treasures were concealed. He therefore reluctantly acceded to the doctor's conditions, and Tony got his breakfast. Despite his sickness, he relished the tea and toast, and for the moment forgot what it cost.

"Well," thought Tony to himself with a smile, "I've got a situation as plain cook and housekeeper. I wonder how long it will last, and what'll come of it. I don't believe Rudolph will look for me here."

But in this Tony was mistaken.