"Since you have left it to me, Luke," he said, "let him go."

"It shall be as you say, Ernest."

As he spoke he released his hold, and Tom Burns stood erect. He breathed a deep sigh of relief.

"May I go?" he asked submissively.

"Yes."

Before leaving he turned to Ernest.

"You are a good-hearted boy," he said, "and I shall not forget that you have saved my life. If I am ever able to do anything for you, I will do it. You will find that Tom Burns, bad as he has been, knows how to be grateful."

"I think you mean what you say," returned Ernest. "I hope you will keep your promise and will turn over a new leaf. Is it true that you are penniless?"

"Not quite. This is all I have."

Burns drew from his pocket a handful of small change--less than a dollar in all--and held it out for inspection.

"Then I will help you along."

Ernest took from his pocket a five-dollar gold piece, and offered it to the tramp.

"That is more than I would do for him," said Luke.

"It is more than I deserve," replied Burns, "but you won't be sorry for your kindness. If ever you see me again, I shall be a different man."

He pa.s.sed out of the window, and they saw him no more.

Luke and Ernest said very little of their night's adventure, but the gold watch and the Mexican dollar were returned to the man from whom they had been taken.

Six months pa.s.sed. Oreville had doubled its population, the mines had yielded a large sum in gold-dust, and the store presided over by Ernest was considerably enlarged.

His services had been so satisfactory that Horace Ames, whose time was taken up elsewhere, had raised his share of the profits to one-half.

At the end of six months, besides defraying his expenses, Ernest found himself possessed of a thousand dollars.

"Luke, I feel rich," said he, when his faithful friend came round for a chat.

"You've done better than I have," rejoined Luke. "The most I have been able to sc.r.a.pe together is four hundred dollars."

"I will give you a part of my money, so that we may be even."

"No, you won't, Ernest. What do you take me for?"

"Mr. Ames has been very liberal, and that is why I have got so much. I don't feel that I ought to have so much more than you."

"Don't bother about me, lad; I feel rich with four hundred dollars. I never was worth so much before, though I'm almost three times your age.

And I wouldn't have that but for you."

"How do you make that out, Luke?"

"Because I never had any ambition till I met you. I never thought of saving money; as long as I got enough to eat I cared for nothing else. I should have died without enough to bury me if you had not set me the example of putting something by for a rainy day."

"I am glad if I have done you any good, Luke, for you have been a kind friend to me."

A week later Luke came into the store, holding a letter in his hand.

"Here is a letter for you, Ernest," he said. "I was pa.s.sing the post-office just now when I was hailed by the postmaster, who asked me if I would take the letter to you. I didn't know that you had any correspondents."

"Nor I, Luke. I think it is the first letter I ever received. Whom can it be from?"

"From some one who knows you are here. It is post-marked St. Louis."

"Well, I can easily discover who wrote it," said Ernest, as he cut open the envelope with his penknife.

He turned at once to the signature, and exclaimed, in great surprise, "Why, it's from Tom Burns."

"The man who tried to rob the store?"

"Yes."

"He has probably written to ask you for some money."

"No, Luke, you are mistaken. I will read it to you."

The letter started thus:

Ernest Ray: You will probably be surprised to hear from me. Let me begin by saying that I have kept the promise I made to you and Mr.

Robbins when you let me off six months ago. I have turned over a new leaf, and have been strictly honest ever since, as I promised you I would be.

I won't trouble you with an account of my struggles to get along. I will only say that I am employed at present as a waiter at the Planters' Hotel, and though I can't save up much money, I am able to live comfortably. But you will wonder why I am writing to you. It is because I have seen your name mentioned in an advertis.e.m.e.nt in one of the St. Louis daily papers. I inclose the advertis.e.m.e.nt, and hope it is something to your advantage. I have taken the liberty to write to Mr. Bolton, telling him where you were six months since, and I now write to you so that you may communicate with him also. Yours respectfully,

Tom Burns.

The advertis.e.m.e.nt appended ran thus:

INFORMATION WANTED.--Should this meet the eye of Ernest Ray, some time residing at Oak Forks, Iowa, he is requested to communicate with Benjamin Bolton, Attorney at Law, 182 Na.s.sau Street, New York City.

CHAPTER x.x.xII

MR. BOLTON AS A HUSTLER

When Benjamin Bolton left the house of Stephen Ray with a hundred dollars in his pocket, it was his clearly defined purpose to find the boy who had been so grossly wronged, and force the present holder of the Ray estate to make rest.i.tution.