CHAPTER VIII. — A MOMENT OF DANGER.
Andy did not examine the check till he reached the bank in Benton. Then, glancing at it before he presented it to the paying-teller, he found that it was for one hundred and twenty-five dollars.
"How will you have it?" asked the teller.
"Twenty-five dollars in small bills; the rest in fives and tens," answered Andy, as instructed by Mr. Gale.
The bills were counted out and placed in his hands. To Andy they seemed a large sum of money, and, indeed, the roll was big enough to convey that impression.
As he left the bank he saw the familiar but not welcome face of the tramp who had stopped him glued against the pane. He had attended to some errands before going to the bank, which allowed the fellow time to reach it in season to watch him.
"I wonder if he saw me putting away the bills?" thought Andy.
However, in a town like Benton, there was little chance of robbery.
The tramp looked at him with evil significance as he left the bank.
"Give me a dollar," he said.
"I can't," answered Andy.
"I saw you with a big roll of bills."
"They are not mine."
"Give me enough to buy a dinner, then," growled the tramp.
"Why should I give you anything? You threw a stone at me on the road."
The tramp turned away muttering, and the glance with which he eyed Andy was far from friendly.
As directed, Andy went over to the hotel and got dinner. He took the opportunity to dispose of the bills, putting all the large ones in his inside vest pocket. The small bills he distributed among his other pockets.
Andy started for home at two o'clock. He felt some responsibility, remembering that he had a considerable sum of money with him.
This made him anxious, and he felt that he should be glad to get home safe and deliver his funds to Mr. Gale. Probably he would not have thought of danger if he had not met the tramp on his way over.
The road for the most part was clear and open, but there was one portion, perhaps a third of a mile in length, bordered by trees and underbrush. It was so short, however, that it would be soon passed over.
But about the middle of it a man sprang from the side of the road and seized the horse by the bridle. It did not require a second look to satisfy Andy that it was the tramp.
The crisis had come! Andy's heart was in his mouth. He was a brave boy, but it might well make even an older person nervous to be stopped by an ill-looking tramp, who was without doubt a criminal.
"Let go that bridle!" called Andy in a tone which, in spite of his nervousness, was clear and resolute.
"So I will when I have got what I want," answered the tramp.
"What do you want?"
"Look at me and you can tell what I want."
"I presume you want money, but I have none to give you."
"You are lying. You have plenty of money about your clothes."
"I said I had no money to give you."
"Didn't I see you get a roll of bills at the bank?"
"Very likely you did, but what about that?"
"I want some of them. I won't take all, but I am a poor man, and I need them more than the man you are taking them to."
"Whom do you think I am taking them to?"
"Squire Carter. He is the only man in Arden that keeps no much money in the bank."
"You are mistaken; the money is not his."
"Whose, then?"
"I don't feel called upon to tell you."
"Well, that's neither here nor there. I want some of it. I'll be content with half, whoever owns it."
"You won't get any. Let go the horse, or I'll run you down."
"You're a smart kid, but you are no match for me. I don't scare worth a cent."
"Listen to me," said Andy; "if you should succeed in robbing me, you would be caught and sent to jail. How will that suit you?"
"It wouldn't be the first time I've been in jail. I'd just as soon be there as to tramp around without a cent of money."
Andy was not surprised to hear that he had to deal with an ex-convict. He understood that this man was a desperate character. He saw that he was a strong, powerful man, in the full vigor of life.
Any contest between them would be most unequal. He was but sixteen and the tramp was near forty. What could he do?
"I'll tell you what I'll do," he said, willing to try an experiment. "I've got two dollars of my own. I'll give you that if you'll let go my horse's bridle and give me no more trouble."
The tramp laughed mockingly.
"Do you take me for a fool?" he asked.
"Why?"
"Do you think I will be satisfied with two dollars, when you have a hundred in your pocket? Two dollars wouldn't last me a day."
"I have nothing to do with that. It is all I mean to give you."
"Then I shall have to help myself."
His cool impudence made Andy angry, and he brought down the whip forcibly on the horse's back.
Naturally the animal started, and nearly tore himself from the grasp of the tramp.
"So that is your game," said the fellow between his closed teeth. "If you try that again I'll pull you out of the buggy and give you such a beating as you never had before."
Andy remained cool and self-possessed. To carry out his threat the tramp would have to let go of the bridle, and in that case Andy determined to put his horse to his paces.
The tramp relaxed his hold and the horse stood stock-still, finding his attempt to get away futile.
"Well," said the tramp, "you didn't make much by that move, did you?"
"Did you make any more?"
"By Jove! you're a cool kid. But, after all, you're only a kid. Now, do as I tell you."
"What is that?"
"Put your hand in your pocket and take out fifty dollars. You've got as much, haven't you?"
"Yes."
"That's right. Speak the truth. You may have more, but fifty'll do me."
"Do you expect me to give you fifty dollars?"
"Yes, I do."
"I don't mean to do it."
Andy had satisfied himself that the tramp had no weapon, and this encouraged him. He could not hold the horse and attack him at one and the same time, but with a revolver he would have been at his mercy.
Besides, Andy's ears were keen, and he thought he heard the sound of wheels behind him. The tramp's attention was too much occupied, and perhaps his hearing was too dull to catch the sounds, as yet faint.
Thus it was that the other team was almost upon them before the tramp was aware of it. The newcomer was Saul Wheelock, a blacksmith, a strong, powerful man, fully six feet in height, and with muscles of steel.
He had seen the buggy standing still on the highway, and he could not understand the cause until he got near enough to see the tramp at the horse's head.
He sprang from the wagon he was driving, and before the vagabond was fully sensible of his danger he had him by the coat collar.
"What are you about?" he demanded, giving him a rough shake.
The tramp, turning, found he was in the hands of a man whom he was compelled to respect. He cared nothing for rank or learning, but physical force held him in awe.
He stood mute, unprepared, with an excuse.
"Why, it's you, Andy!" said the blacksmith. "Why did this rascal stop you?"
"He wants me to give him money. I've just been to the bank in Benton to draw out some for Mr. Gale at the hotel."
"Why, you scoundrel!" exclaimed the indignant blacksmith, shaking the tramp till his teeth chattered. "So you're a thief, are you?"
"Let me go!" whined the tramp. "I haven't taken anything. I'm a poor, unfortunate man. If I could get any work to do I wouldn't have been driven to this."
"No doubt you're a church member," said the blacksmith, in a sarcastic tone.
"Let me go! I'll promise to lead a good life. This young man says he'll give me two dollars. I'll take it and go."
"Don't give him a cent, Andy. You can go, but I'll give you something to remember me by."
He gave the tramp a vigorous kick that nearly prostrated him, and then, getting into his wagon, said:
"I'll keep along with you, Andy. I don't think you'll have any more trouble."
The tramp slunk into the woods, baffled and disappointed. If looks could have annihilated the sturdy blacksmith, his span of life would have been brief.
CHAPTER IX. — CONRAD'S SCHEME.
When Andy told Mr. Gale the story of his adventures on the trip to Benton, he received cordial congratulations on his courage.
"You have shown a great deal of pluck, Andy," he said. "The next time you have occasion to go over to the bank for me I will accompany you. Now, if you are not too tired, I want you to go down to the pond. I have something to show you."
They walked side by side till they reached the pond.
Andy's curiosity was not specially excited. He talked with Mr. Gale on different topics, and had hardly time to consider what it was he was to see. But when he reached the boathouse he saw floating at the small pier an elegant rowboat, built of cedar, and much handsomer than either Conrad's or Valentine's.
"Oh, what a beauty!" he exclaimed.
"Yes," said Mr. Gale, quietly; "you will have quite the best boat on the pond."
"I?" exclaimed Andy, in surprise.
"Yes, for the boat is yours."
"But I don't understand," stammered Andy.
"It is plain enough," said Walter Gale, with a pleasant smile. "The boat is yours. I give it to you."
"How can I thank you?" exclaimed Andy, grasping his friend's hand. "I can't believe that this beautiful boat is mine."
"You will realize it after a while. Let me tell you how I got it. It was built for a rich young man in New York, one of the Four Hundred, I believe, but as he received an unexpected invitation to go abroad for two years, he authorized the builder to sell it for him at a considerable reduction from the price he paid. So it happens that I was able to secure it for you. Now let us go out for a row. It will be the trial trip."
Fifteen minutes later Conrad got into his boat and started out. It was not long before his eyes were attracted to the new boat.
He could see at once, for he was a judge, that it was far more elegant and costly than his own, and he was seized by a pang of envy. His own boat seemed to him quite inferior, though but a short time before he had regarded it with pride.
He was curious to see the craft and pulled up to it.
"That is a fine boat you have there, Mr. Gale," he said.
"So I think," returned the young man. "I feel quite satisfied with it"
"When did it come down?"
"I only received it this morning."
"How much did it cost?" asked Conrad, who was not troubled by bashfulness.
"A small fortune," answered Walter Gale, with a smile. "I am afraid I must decline to give the exact figures."
"I asked because I may ask my father to buy me one like it."
Conrad was perfectly well aware that such a request would be promptly denied. Squire Carter was not disposed to be extravagant, and he had even hesitated for some time before incurring the outlay required for Conrad's present boat.
The new boat was so elegant, so graceful, and so thoroughly finished in every part, that Conrad could not help coveting it. He was not very much to be blamed, for it was one that would captivate the fancy of any boy who was fond of the water.
"I should like to try the boat some time, Mr. Gale," he said.
"If the owner is willing, I am," returned the young man.
"The owner? Why, doesn't it belong to you?" asked Conrad, in surprise.
"No; it belongs to Andy."
"That boat belong to Andy Grant?" exclaimed Conrad, with an incredulous frown.
"Yes; I have given it to him. You will have to ask his permission."
"I shall be glad to have you try it," said Andy, pleasantly.
"Thank you, but I don't think I care for it," replied Conrad, coldly.
He felt a pang of mortification to think that the farmer's son should have a boat so much superior to his own.
"If you change your mind, let me know," said Andy.
"Conrad is jealous," remarked Walter Gale. "He doesn't like to have you own a boat that is superior to his."
"I think you are right, Mr. Gale. If the case were reversed I would not mind."
"Because you are not disposed to be envious or jealous."
When Conrad returned home there was a cloud upon his brow. It was easy for any one to see that he was in bad humor.
"What is the matter, Conrad?" asked his father. "You look as if you had lost your best friend."
"I hate Andy Grant," exploded Conrad, his eyes flashing with anger.
"Why, what has Andy done now? You haven't had a fight, have you?"
"No; I wouldn't demean myself by fighting with him."
"What is it, then?"
"He is always doing something to annoy me."
"I am still in the dark."
"He has got a new boat, far handsomer than mine. I shouldn't wonder if it cost twice as much."
Squire Conrad was surprised.
"Where did he get it?" he inquired.
"It was a present from Mr. Gale, the young man at the hotel."
"He must like young Grant very much?"
"It is ridiculous that a poor boy should own such a boat."
"I don't see how we can help it," said the squire, philosophically.
He did not take the superiority of Andy's boat so much to heart as his son.
"I'll tell you how you can make it right, father."
"How?"
"By buying me a boat as good or better than the new one."
"Why should I buy you another boat? The one you have is only six months old, and it cost me a pretty penny, I assure you."
"That may be, but I shall not feel any more satisfaction in it, now that Andy has a better one."
"All this is foolish, my son."
"Then you won't buy me a new boat?"
"Most certainly I won't," said the squire, firmly.
Conrad's countenance fell, but another idea came to him.
"Suppose Andy is willing to exchange with me for something to boot?"
"You say the boat is a fine one?"
"Elegant."
"You may offer him ten dollars."
"Won't you say fifteen, father? I assure you it is worth much more than that difference."
"You can offer him ten dollars, and see what he has to say to it."
Conrad managed to see Andy the next day, and made him the offer.
"Do you think I would part with Mr. Gale's gift?" said Andy, indignantly.
"He wouldn't care; and ten dollars is a good deal of money," said Conrad, insinuatingly.
"If you offered me fifty dollars I would say the same. I am not particularly in want of money."
"I suppose you say that because you are earning three dollars a week."
"Who told you how much Mr. Gale paid me?" asked Andy, smiling.
"Then he does get three dollars a week," reflected Conrad.
He redoubled his entreaties, but Andy refused firmly.
Half an hour later Conrad met on the street a shabby figure with whom we are already acquainted. It was the tramp who figured in an encounter with Andy when on his way to Benton.
"Young gentleman," said the tramp, with a whine, "you look rich and generous. Can't you spare a poor man a trifle?"
"You look as if you drank," replied Conrad, with brutal frankness. "Your nose is red."
"That's owing to a skin disease. I have belonged to the Temperance Society for five years."
"Humph! you don't look like it. Why don't you work?"
"Because I can find nothing to do."
Here a contemptible suggestion offered itself to Conrad.
"If you will do something for me, and keep mum, I'll give you two dollars."
"I'll do it if it isn't too hard."
"Then I'll tell you what it is. There's a boat on the pond that belongs to an enemy of mine. He is always crowing over me. Now, if you'll manage this evening to set it on fire, I'll give you two dollars."
"How shall I set it on fire? With a match?"
"No; I'll supply you with some shavings, a few pieces of board, and some pitch. There won't be any trouble about it."
"Who owns the boat?"
Conrad described Andy.
"That's the boy who—but never mind! I'll do it."
Once convinced that in this way he could get revenge on the boy who had humiliated and got the best of him, the tramp was only too willing to help Conrad in his scheme.
When Conrad went home at nine o'clock, after supplying the tramp with combustibles, he said to himself:
"There won't be much left of Andy's boat in the morning."
CHAPTER X. — THE TRAMP'S MISTAKE.
Conrad went to bed with the comfortable conviction that before morning Andy's beautiful boat would be ruined. I am sorry to say that the meanness of the act which he had instigated did not strike him.
Whatever feeling he had was of exultation at the injury done to his enemy, as he persisted in regarding Andy.
It did seem a pity that such an elegant boat should be destroyed. If Andy would only have agreed to exchange for ten—even fifteen—dollars to boot, this would have been avoided.
"He was a fool not to accept," soliloquized Conrad. "He will regret it when he sees what has happened."
He got up at the usual hour and took breakfast. Every time the bell rang he thought it might be some one to bring him the desired news.
Just after supper Andy met his friend, Valentine, and told him of the beautiful gift he had received.
"Come down and look at it, Val," he said. "It is elegant."
Valentine's curiosity was excited, and he at once accepted the invitation.
He uttered an exclamation of surprise when he saw the new boat.
"It is a little beauty!" he said. "It is far ahead of Conrad's or of mine."
"Conrad wants to exchange. He offered me ten dollars to boot."
"You wouldn't think of accepting?"
"No; it is worth much more than that. Besides, it is Mr. Gale's gift, and even if he had offered fifty dollars I should still refuse."
"And you would do right, too. But are you going to leave it out all night?"
"I shall have to. I have no boathouse to put it in."
"There is room in my boathouse for two boats," said Valentine. "I will help you put it inside."
"Thank you, Val. I will be glad to pay you rent for the use of the place."
"I don't want any money, Andy; I will do it out of friendship."
"Thank you; but you mustn't forget that I am quite able to pay."
"That's true, and I am glad of it; but, all the same, I don't want any money."
"I wonder Conrad doesn't have a boathouse."
"He tells me his father has promised him one. He has not yet decided upon a location."
The two boys got into Andy's boat and rowed it a few rods till they reached the boathouse. There was no difficulty in putting it away. The boathouse was double, and there was room for two boats.
"I will have another key made, Andy, so that you can get at your boat when I am not with you."
"All right! That will be very nice."
"How do you like Mr. Gale?"
"Tiptop. I was very fortunate to fall in with him. It will be a great loss to me when he goes away."
"Is he thinking of going soon?"
"I don't think so—I hope not."
It was later in the evening when the tramp went down to the pond, provided with the shavings and other combustibles which Conrad had provided.
Conrad, after meeting him, had gone home at once. He thought it more prudent, in view of the plot in which he was engaged, to avoid suspicion by not being seen in company with the tramp.
"Give me the two dollars now," said the tramp, when the fuel was handed him.
"Do you think I am a fool?" answered Conrad, sharply. "If I should do that, you would go off and not do the work."
"I'll do the work fast enough. I want to get even with that young rascal."
"What! Do you know him?"
"I have met him," answered the tramp, evasively. "He played me a mean trick, and I want to get even with him."
"What sort of a trick was it?"
"I will tell you some other time—I haven't time now. I wish I had a hatchet."
"What for?"
"Then, if the fire didn't spoil the boat, I'd hack it up."
"I think I can get you a hatchet, but you must not leave it on the bank, for my father's initial, 'C,' is on it."
"All right. I'll be careful."
The hatchet was delivered to the tramp a little later.
About eight o'clock the tramp went down to the lake and looked for Andy's boat.
There was but one in sight—Conrad's—but he never doubted that this was the one he was to destroy. He waited till half-past eight, when he considered it dark enough for his purpose.
He carefully laid the shavings in one end of the boat, covered them over with pieces of board, which, with the help of the hatchet, he split into smaller pieces, and then set them on fire.
The flames blazed fiercely and did considerable damage to the boat, not ruining it, however. But to finish the work he used the hatchet, and hacked vigorously at the woodwork till it was mutilated and its usefulness and beauty spoiled.
The tramp contemplated this work with satisfaction.
"I've done the job pretty well," he chuckled to himself. "I'd like to be lookin' on when the boy sees it."
Now that he had done the job he wanted his pay. Conrad had agreed to meet him at an old ruined barn not far from his house at eight o'clock in the morning.
"It won't do to call for me earlier," he said, "for it might excite suspicion."
From the breakfast table Conrad directed his steps to the barn.
The tramp was sitting outside, smoking a pipe.
"I've been waiting for you," he said. "I haven't had any breakfast."
"Did you do the job?"
"Did I? Well, I reckon. That boat ain't no good any more."
"Do you think any one saw you do it?"
"No; it was pretty dark, and there wasn't no one round. It may have been found out by now. Give me the two dollars and I'll be off."
"You are sure you did the job? You are not deceiving me?"
"No, I'm not. You can go and see for yourself."
This, however, did not seem prudent. Conrad wished some one else to discover the ruined boat.
After all, there was no reason to doubt the tramp's word. His avowed hostility to Andy made it quite certain that he had done his work.
"Here's the money," he said.
"And here's the hatchet."
"I wish it was back in the toolhouse where it belongs," thought Conrad. "However, I'll manage to get it back without any one seeing me."
He decided to return to the barn at once, carrying the hatchet with him. He was not to do it without observation. Just before he reached the barn he met John Larkin.
"What are you doing with the hatchet, Conrad?"
"Oh, I have been using it in the pasture."
"I didn't know but you were going to imitate George Washington and cut down a cherry tree."
"Perhaps I have," said Conrad, with a smile.
He felt in good humor, for his plan had been carried out. He was aching to see just how badly Andy's boat was injured, and as there was no school, it being Saturday, he proposed to John Larkin to go down to the pond.
"Suppose we have a row, John," he said. "We'll take a trip across the pond."
"All right."
They were perhaps thirty rods from the pond when they met Jimmy Morris, coming from it. He seemed excited. He had been running and was breathless.
"What's the matter, Jimmy?" asked John Larkin.
Jimmy looked toward Conrad, who naturally guessed the cause of his excitement.
"Oh, Conrad," he said. "It is such a pity! I am so sorry for you!"
"Why are you sorry for me?" demanded Conrad, sharply.
"Because your boat is ruined. It is all hacked up, and has been set on fire."
"My boat! You mean Andy Grant's?"
"No, I don't. Come and see for yourself."
CHAPTER XI. — CONRAD'S DISAPPOINTMENT.
With his mind in a whirl, and still believing that it was Andy's boat which had been injured instead of his own, Conrad pushed on rapidly toward the pond. Yet he had an instinctive fear that his informant might be correct.
When he reached the point where his boat had been moored, he used his eyes eagerly.
It was all true! His boat—his beautiful boat—with which he had been perfectly satisfied till Andy received a better, was scorched and hacked up till it was clear he could never use it again, and Andy's boat was not visible anywhere. Tears of rage filled Conrad's eyes.
"It is a terrible mistake!" he ejaculated.
"Mistake! What do you mean?" asked John Larkin.
Conrad reflected that his words were betraying him.
"I don't know what I am saying," he replied, vaguely. "Yes, I do. I believe Andy Grant did this."
"Andy Grant!" repeated Jimmy Morris. "Why should he injure your boat?"
"Because he hates me."
"Andy isn't that kind of a boy. Besides, he has a newer and much handsomer boat himself."
There it was! That was what stung Conrad. His boat was second to Andy's.
As the three boys stood on the bank, a small boy, named Peter Hill, came up. He lived in the house nearest the boats.
"Did you see any one near the boat, Peter?" asked John Larkin.
"Yes, I seed a big tramp in de boat. He set it on fire."
"That explains it, Conrad!" exclaimed Jimmy Morris. "I saw the tramp myself in the village."
"Pooh!" said Conrad. "I don't believe it."
"But I seed him burnin' de boat!" persisted little Peter.
"Then why didn't you tell somebody?"
"All de folks was away and I didn't dare to go near it. He had a hatchet, too."
"I say, Conrad, let us hunt for the tramp, and, if we find him, have him arrested."
For obvious reasons this proposal of John Larkin did not meet Conrad's approval. He was afraid of what the tramp would tell.
"I'll ask my father what to do," he replied, evasively. "The mischief is done and there is no help for it."
Conrad was already looking more cheerful. An idea had come to him.
Now that the boat was destroyed, his father might be willing to buy him another, and, if so, he might be persuaded to buy one as good as Andy's, perhaps better. He turned to go home, and let the boys know that he did not care for company.
On the way, not far from his own house, he encountered the tramp. At the sight of this man, whose stupid blunder had cost him his boat, his eyes blazed with anger.
But this the tramp did not see. He slouched up to his young employer, saying, with a cunning grin:
"Well, did you see it?"
"Did I see it?" repeated Conrad, boiling over with fury. "Yes, I did."
"I did it pretty well, didn't I? I guess the boat isn't good for much now."
"You stupid fool!" blazed out Conrad. "It is my boat that you ruined. I have a great mind to have you arrested!"
"Your boat? It was the boat you pointed out to me."
"No, it wasn't. It was my own boat."
"Then where was the other boat? I didn't see but one."
"I don't know, but you might have had sense enough to know that you'd got the wrong boat."
The tramp's hopes fell. He had intended to ask for another dollar from Conrad, but he saw now that there was no chance whatever of his obtaining it.
"You'd better get out of town as soon as you can," said Conrad, roughly.
"Why should I?" demanded the tramp, sullenly.
"Because you were seen destroying the boat."
"Who saw me?"
"A small boy who lives at the next house. You might be arrested."
"If I am, I'll tell the truth. I'll tell who put me up to it."
"And I'll deny it. Do you think any one would believe your word against mine, especially as it was my boat that was ruined?"
The tramp saw the logic of this remark and walked away. He was seen no more in the village.
"Now I'll tackle father," thought Conrad.
He directed his steps homeward and informed the squire of what had happened.
His father frowned and looked displeased.
"If you are not smart enough to take care of your boat," he said, coldly, "you will have to suffer the consequences."
"But I don't see how I am to blame?"
"Have you any idea who did the mischief?"
"Perhaps Andy Grant did—he doesn't like me."
"I don't think that very probable. You can charge him with it if you think best. But I thought you told me he had a new boat of his own?"
"So he has—a perfect beauty! It is ever so much better than mine. I wish—"
"Well, what do you wish?"
"That you would buy me one like his."
"Well, I like that. After losing your boat through your own carelessness, you want me to invest a large sum in another."
"Must I go without one, then?" asked Conrad, in dismay.
"It looks that way."
Conrad resorted to earnest entreaties. He was willing, now, to accept any sort of boat, for he was fond of rowing; but Squire Carter had just heard unfavorable reports from his broker about a speculation he had entered into, and he was inflexible.
"What a fool I was!" reflected Conrad, bitterly. "My boat was a good one, even if it wasn't as fine as Andy's, and now I have none. I shall have to borrow his or Valentine's when I want to go out rowing."
Later in the day he met Andy.
Andy had heard of Conrad's loss and was full of sympathy.
"Conrad," he said, "it's a shame about your boat being destroyed."
"Yes, it is pretty hard."
"The boys say a tramp did the mischief."
"I think it very likely. There was a tramp about town yesterday. I saw him myself."
"What could have been his object? Ruining the boat would not benefit him."
"It might have been out of revenge. He asked me for a quarter and I wouldn't give it to him."
This explanation occurred to Conrad on the spur of the moment.
"Can't you have him arrested?"
"He is probably out of town by this time."
"I suppose you will have a new boat?"
"Yes, after a while."
"I will lend you mine any time you wish."
"Thank you," said Conrad, but he spoke coldly and ungraciously.
It seemed to him humiliating to receive any favors from a poor boy like Andy Grant.
Two weeks later, when Andy went over to the hotel, as usual, to meet his employer and pupil, Mr. Gale said:
"I have some news for you."
"I hope it is good news."
"I don't know that you will consider it so. I shall have to leave you for a time."
Andy's face fell. This certainly was bad news.
"I have received a letter this morning," continued Walter Gale, "from an uncle living in the interior of Pennsylvania. He is not an old man—I don't think he is much over fifty—but he writes me that he is near his end. The doctor says he may live three months, certainly not over six. He has always been a bachelor, and I believe owns coal mines of considerable value. I was always a favorite of his, and now that he is so sick he wants me to go out and be with him in the closing weeks of his life."
"I suppose you will go?" said Andy, and he looked very sober.
"I think it is my duty—don't you?"
"Yes, I suppose it is your duty."
Andy began to think what he should do. He had had an easy and profitable engagement with Mr. Gale, but this would now be over, and he would have to go back to farm work, or try to get a place in the village store.
The latter would yield him only two dollars and a half a week, which seemed to him very small compared with what he now received.
"I shall miss you very much, Mr. Gale," he said.
"I hope you will. I shall certainly miss you."
"It will seem very dull going to work on the farm after my pleasant days with you."
"You won't need to go to work on the farm, unless you choose to do so."
"But I must earn something; I cannot be idle."
"Oh, I forgot to tell you what arrangements I propose to make for you."
Andy looked up eagerly.