Clifton was a thriving little place, the centre of a rich farming region, and as all the cotton that was produced in the country for a circle of twenty miles around was shipped at its wharves, it could, at certain seasons of the year, boast of an amount of business that one would hardly expect of so small a town. It was the home of many wealthy gentlemen, and conspicuous among the noble mansions which adorned the hills south of the village stood that which had once been occupied by Mr. Nellis. It was situated in the midst of extensive grounds, away from the noise and bustle of the town, and there Bob was born, and there he had lived, surrounded by every comfort that affection could suggest and money supply. The hunting, too, was fine—so much so that the neighboring planters came from far and near to enjoy it. During the season there was hardly a day passed but that some of the village hunters would be called upon to act as guides to some of those who were bound to fill their game-bags before they went home. A few miles farther out quails were abundant, and squirrel were so thick they were almost a nuisance. Wild turkeys and deer were often brought in, and finally it came about that one of the hunters who belonged in the village discovered something that worked a great change in his fortunes.

Towards home, his home it was now, Gus Layton hurriedly bent his steps as soon as the steamer touched the wharf, leaving his baggage, which he had given into the charge of a drayman, to follow more leisurely. As the ponderous iron gate clanged behind him he looked around with a smile of satisfaction. The last time he entered there he was dependent on the bounty of a man whom he despised; now he was master there, or his father was, which amounted to the same thing.

"And I shall lose no time in making my power felt," thought Gus. "Bob and I have changed places now, and it will do him good to know by experience how I have felt during the last few years of my life. How different the world looks to a rich man! And how different he looks to the world," added Gus, philosophically. "The world sees in him many things to admire that it does not see in a poor man. With horses and dogs, and boats and money and good clothes at my command, I shall occupy a rather higher position here in Clifton than I did few months ago."

Soliloquizing thus, Gus strolled along with the air of a young lord, passing through the wide front door, which stood open, and up the stairs to the library, which he entered without the ceremony of knocking. He found his father there, as he expected, and was not a little surprised at the look of alarm his sudden appearance had called to his face.

Mr. Layton was a little, dried-up man, scarcely larger than the sixteen-year-old boy who stood before him, and the hooked nose and round shoulders, as well as the deprecating, insinuating air which belonged to his son, were particularly noticeable in him, and would have attracted the attention of a stranger at first glance. His eyes were small and sharp, and just now had a wild look in them, and their owner had a habit of turning them from side to side, something after the manner of a frightened deer.

"Why, Augustus," he exclaimed, rising from his chair and approaching his son, "how you startled me! I was not expecting you for a week or two. Is your school out?"

"How are you, governor?" replied Gus, placing a passive hand in his father's eagerly-outstretched palm. "But I say, what's the matter with you? You look like some wild animal that has been driven to bay by the hounds."

"Augustus, hush!" exclaimed his father, quickly. "After all I have done and dared for you I should think you would treat me with more respect."

"Oh, I didn't mean anything, governor; it is merely my way. But really you have changed during the last few months. See how your hands tremble!"

"It is nothing," replied Mr. Layton. "You frightened me by your abrupt entrance; that's all. Is school out?"

"No, nor will it be until next week. You wonder what brought me here, I suppose? Well, the fellows sent me to coventry, and as I couldn't stand that, I came away."

"Coventry? Where's that?"

"I presume they didn't do such things when you went to school. They got mad at me and told me they wouldn't speak to me or notice me any more than they would a crooked stick. That is what is meant by sending one to coventry."

"They were angry, I suppose, because you beat them in the race."

"But as it happens I didn't beat them. Bob found out that his oar was cut, and he and his crew took their old ones and won as easily as falling off a log. You ought to see the style that Bob has been putting on ever since! He feels too big to walk on the ground. By the way, where will he go when school is out?"

"So he beat you at last, did he!" exclaimed Mr. Layton, in great surprise. "How did he find out that the oar was cut?"

"Sprague says he was the guilty party that told him, but I don't believe it. I bet you I will find means to get even with him when he comes home. What are you going to do with Bob?"

"Why, this is the only home he has, and I suppose he will come here."

"Well, then, you will have to take your choice between him and me, for if he stays I shan't."

"But what shall I do with him?" asked Mr. Layton.

"That's for you to decide. Send him to sea—send him anywhere, so long as you get rid of him."

"And what if he refuses to go?"

"Make him go. You do not intend to send him to school next year, do you?"

"His father made no provision for it in his will."

"Then tell him so. Has he any money?"

"There was none left to him."

"Tell him that also. Tell him that he has got his own living to make from this time on, and the sooner he sets about it the better for him, and for us, too," said Gus, rising to his feet and moving toward the door.

"Don't go," said Mr. Layton, hastily. "I have been so lonely with no one to talk to, and now that you have come home you want to run away from me. Sit down."

"Don't worry," replied the dutiful son. "I am not going far. My trunks have arrived and I want to see them brought up stairs."

"I have given you rooms in the south wing over the parlors," said Mr. Layton. "When you have looked at them, tell me how you like them and the way they are furnished."

Gus slammed the door without waiting to hear what his father had to say, and at the head of the stairs met a negro coming up with some of his luggage.

"That trunk and the others go into the north rooms," said Gus.

"Sah?" exclaimed the darky. "Old Moster say dem rooms 'longs to young Moster Nellis."

"And do you hear what I say?" demanded Gus. "I say those trunks go into the north rooms, which belong to me."

"Yes, sah! Yes, sah! Dat's all right, sah!" replied the obsequious darky, and into the north rooms the trunks went.

"That's the first step," said Gus to himself. "What would Bob think, if he knew it?"

One, to have taken a single glance at these apartments, could have told why Gus ordered his trunks taken in there. There were three of them—a sitting-room, bedroom, and a sort of conservatory, which Bob had fitted up as a museum. By the aid of his father and his father's sea-captains he had there gathered together such a supply of curiosities from all quarters of the globe that, the room being unable to contain them all, they had flowed into the others, and filled every nook and corner of them likewise. Here Gus settled himself down with the air of a conqueror. Not because the rooms were any pleasanter or more desirable than others in the house did he select them, but simply because he had determined to show his cousin that their circumstances were exactly reversed—that he was the favored child of fortune now and Bob the poor relation. The curiosities he cared nothing about. Indeed he told himself that when he felt in the right humor he would have them all removed and bundled into the garret as so much useless lumber. He expected to take quiet possession of everything that belonged to Bob, and whether or not he did so we shall presently see.

"Now, boy," said Gus, addressing himself to the negro after he had seen his trunks stowed away to his satisfaction, "what's your name?"

"Sam, sah; dat's my name."

"Well, Sam, I suppose my ponies are in the barn?"

"Yes, sah, de ponies is dar."

"My father has a hostler, I presume?"

"Sah? Oh, yes, sah."

"Then tell him to hitch the ponies to a light buggy and have them at the door in a quarter of an hour. I'll go out and take an airing," said Gus to himself, when the darky had disappeared. "There are a good many people here in Clifton who used to snub me when I was at home last summer, and I want to see if they will do it now."

Having performed his ablutions, Gus proceeded to make his toilet with much more care than usual, but he was ready by the time the carriage was at the door. Taking his seat in the vehicle, he drove through the gate and spent the next hour in exhibiting upon the principal streets of the town the best suit of clothes and the best pair of kid gloves he had ever worn. Bob's fine turnout, which was well known in the village, attracted some attention, but it did not bring Gus any more smiles and bows than he had been wont to receive when he trudged through the streets on foot. The people knew him too well; and, besides, there were some of them (how surprised Gus would have been to know it) who believed he had no business in that fine carriage.

Having shown himself off to his satisfaction, Gus turned the ponies' heads toward the wharves, closely scrutinizing the signs on each side of the street as he passed along. Presently he seemed to discover the one he was in search of, for he drew up to the sidewalk and got out of the carriage. After hitching the ponies he entered the door under the sign and found himself in a small, dingy bar-room, whose only occupant was a gray-headed, dissolute-looking man, with a wooden leg. This personage started up as Gus entered, and hobbling around the counter waited for him to make known his wants, at the same time looking fixedly at him, as if he saw something about him that was familiar.

"Well, Barlow, how are you?" said Gus.

"Now, I swan, I thought I knowed the cut of your jib!" exclaimed the old man, extending across the counter a huge, begrimed paw, which Gus pretended he did not see. He was a gentleman now, and gentlemen did not shake hands with such characters as Barlow. Besides, he had his new kids on and did not want to soil them. "It's young Mr. Layton, isn't it?"

"Yes, Barlow, that's who it is," replied Gus.

"I thought I knowed your face, but them good clothes of your'n rather got the best of me. You're dressed up within an inch of your life, ain't you? You don't look much like the dirty, barefoot boy that I used to see playing about the gutters a few years ago. Your father used to live in that little shanty opposite the breakwater, and was so poor that he used to be glad to come to me to find him a job of stevedorin'. I suppose he would turn up his nose at me now."

Gus had come to Barlow's saloon for a particular purpose, but it was not to discuss such matters as these. He did not like to hear about them, so as soon as he saw a chance he broke in with—

"The wheel of fortune has turned a spoke or two in my favor since I last saw you, that is true. But what is the news here in Clifton? I have been away a year, you know."

"Well, there ain't no news 'cepting that ole Cap'n Nellis has slipped off, and that I suppose you knowed long ago. Folks ain't got done talkin' about it, and never will."

"Rather sudden and mysterious, wasn't it?" asked Gus, carelessly.

"Yes, rather sudden, and mebbe mysterious to them as don't suspect nothing. But I can easy account for it. Howsomever, it ain't no consarn of mine, and I don't meddle with other people's business. Savin' your presence, Mr. 'Gustus, he's the meanest man that ever stepped, is Cap'n Nellis."

"He was the meanest man, you mean," suggested the visitor.

"No, I don't mean anything of the kind," insisted Barlow. "I say he is, 'cause, barring accident that is likely to fall to men in any part of the world, he's as hale and hearty this minute as me and you be, the old villain!"

"Whew!" whistled Gus, opening his eyes in amazement and looking a little alarmed.

"It's a fact, I tell you," declared Barlow, "'cause I know. But if I did see a few things one dark and rainy mornin', and by putting this and that together got at the whole of the story, so that I can tell it to-day as straight as them that done the business, 'tain't no consarn of nobody's, is it? If I had had a hand in the matter he wouldn't ever turn up again, as he is likely to do."

Gus was too astonished to speak. Here was a startling revelation indeed.