The Story of a Brave Boy.
BY JOHN RUSSELL CORYELL,
AUTHOR OF "CAST ADRIFT," "ANDY FLETCHER,"
ETC., ETC., ETC.
CHAPTER XXIII.
It is not an uncommon occurrence for a rascal to overreach himself. It is the thing Arthur Hoyt did when he refrained from shooting Harry and resorted to the more cruel but longer device of starving him to death.
If he had gone away from the cave within ten minutes of reaching it, he would not have been seen by a lurking witness among the rocks.
This person had been hurrying along the trail, more than ten minutes behind Hoyt, and came upon him as he was toiling with the ponderous boulders.
At the instant of seeing him, the stranger darted behind a rock and watched him with a deep interest.
He kept himself hidden until Hoyt had gone, and then seemed for a moment undecided whether to follow him or to investigate the reason of the piling up of the stones in the cave.
"I can follow him after I've taken a look," he muttered.
With this determination he ran over to the cave and looked in and tried to make out the meaning of the heap of stones.
"Now, what in the world did he do that for?" he asked himself. "Well, whatever he did it, for, it'll be worth my while to learn it, for I know he'd never 'a taken all that trouble for nothing. He isn't the sort to work like that for fun."
So the newcomer went over to the pile and studied it; but making nothing of it, owing to the care with which Harry had been covered up, he doggedly set to work to remove and undo all that Hoyt had done.
He had not gone far with his labors before he caught sight of something that looked like a garment. He turned pale and hastened to satisfy his fears.
"He's murdered somebody and hid him here," he said. "I wonder—" he stopped and leaned up against the pile; "but no, it couldn't be."
Whatever it was that he felt could not be, evidently kept recurring to him, as he worked with feverish haste, until he had uncovered so much of the body as enabled him to feel it and to discover that it was still warm.
"Only just killed him, too!" he ejaculated.
The horror of it stopped him for an instant, and then he returned to his task with redoubled energy; so that he was undoing in seconds what Hoyt had taken minutes to accomplish, being assisted to that end by a strength that Hoyt had lacked.
"Alive! Harry Wainwright!"
It seemed as if the two discoveries had come together, and as if the fact that it was Harry Wainwright had more interest for the toiler than the fact that the discovered person was merely alive.
And how the remaining stones and brush flew after the discovery! And as soon as it was possible to do it, Harry was lifted to an upright position, the gag taken out of his mouth and his bonds cut.
"Bill Green!" was Harry's first exclamation. "How did you happen here?"
"Oh, it's a long story! but anyhow, I'm glad I did come here."
"It looks as if you had my existence in your charge," said Harry, his half-jesting manner belied by the earnest way he caught the two hands of the boy who had thus, for a second time, rescued him from a horrible death.
"Well, anyhow," replied Bill, "that fellow Hoyt don't seem to have any chance against me. Now, isn't it wonderful? But let's get out of here."
"Stop a minute," said Harry. "Let's put these things back just as they were. I don't know but I'd better try to keep dead again."
"All right," answered Bill, who was in a state of radiant happiness. "Anything you say. Oh, but I'm glad to see you again, Harry! And I had no more idea of finding you here than of finding a bag of diamonds."
They put the stones and brush back as they had been placed by Hoyt, and then Harry led the way to a secluded spot where they would not be seen, even in the unlikely chance of anybody coming that way.
"I'll make it as short as I can now," said Bill, "and you can ask questions at any time when you happen to think of 'em, or I can tell you the little details afterward, as they come to mind. Doesn't it seem wonderful that I should happen to be here just at this particular moment?"
"Wonderful is no name for it," declared Harry; "and I haven't tried to thank you. It's no use trying, Bill."
"Of course it's no use trying, and you're not going to hurt my feelings by doing it," rejoined Bill. "Well, it wasn't a bit wonderful, my being here, when you come to know all about it. After you were gone that night of the fire, I ran right to Mr. Dewey and told him all about it. My! wasn't he mad?"
"I know how he'd be likely to go on," said Harry, with a smile.
"At first he was all for taking it out of Hoyt by giving him a sound thumping; but, after awhile, he cooled down and began to think it all over, and the end was, not to go into particulars now, that he set me to watching Hoyt, so that if anything should turn up we might get some evidence against him."
"But your work?" queried Harry.
"Mr. Dewey said he'd rather pay twice the wages I'd lose than miss a chance of tripping up Arthur Hoyt. So I gave up everything and played what they call shadow. I was mighty awkward about it at first, but after awhile I got so I could follow him and he never suspect. Well, among other things, I followed him to Mr. Mortimer's and listened to their talk under the library window. I couldn't catch it all, but I caught enough to make out that Mr. Mortimer had no idea that Hoyt was going to make an end of you, and that he was terribly broken up about it. But somehow it seemed that Hoyt had mixed him up in it so that it could be made to look as if Mortimer had really killed you."
"Oh, the villain!" exclaimed Harry.
"Isn't he, though? He made Mortimer give him four hundred thousand dollars of the money that had been stolen from your father—"
"Did you find out how it had been stolen?" interrupted Harry, eagerly.
"Not a word about that. Then, at the last, Hoyt made him give him some shares in a mine, and said he was going to investigate the mine. I expected that would end the shadowing, but Mr. Dewey said I was to keep after him if it took all the money he had in the bank, and I guess it did just that. The long and short of it being that Mr. Dewey gave me two hundred dollars, and I was to follow Hoyt as far as the money would take me, and Mr. Dewey was to look after mother and Beth."
"What a friend he is!" cried Harry. "And you, too, Bill. I don't see why I make such friends."
"Don't you?" asked Bill. "Ah, well, I do! I followed Hoyt, and there wouldn't have been any trouble at all if it hadn't been that he stopped all along the way to have a good time spending his stolen money. I lost my ticket by that time. You know you can't stop off on ordinary tickets, and it cost me two tickets before I learned how to be ready for him. But, anyhow, he stopped so often and led me such a chase that by the time he had been a week in San Francisco I was teetotally broke."
"And all that for me!" said Harry, gratefully.
"Get out!" cried Bill. "I was having no end of a lark. Why, I was seeing the world, Harry, and doing some good at the same time. But I was stumped when he left San Francisco one day for Virginia City. Then I was fixed and no mistake. I puzzled my brains over it until I just had to steal rides on freight trains. I only minded one thing, and that was that when I reached Virginia City I would possibly find him gone so I couldn't trace him."
"You had no money, so took your chances on the freight trains and reached Virginia City at last?" said Harry, who was listening with both interest and admiration.
"Yes; and he was gone."
"Oh, dear!" was Harry's fervent comment. "But you have pluck, Bill."
"Bulldog kind," laughed Bill. "I know how to stick to a thing when I get hold. I did to him. If he'd been the right sort, though, I'd never have found him again. He's an awful gambler. Oh, he gambled everywhere he stopped! He seemed to know just where to find the places. I'll bet anything that he's lost a big pile of money. Anyhow, he'd gambled in Virginia City till everybody in that line knew him, and it was from some of them that I found out where he'd gone."
"Then," said Harry, "the trouble was to get here yourself."
"You bet! But I got here last night. The very first places I went to were the gambling-houses, and mighty surprised I was to find he hadn't been to any of them. I couldn't understand that."
"Afraid I'd see him," suggested Harry.
"Of course that was it. I couldn't find him last night, and I was afraid he hadn't come here, after all; for there wasn't a sign of him having been here. The next thing that occurred to me was the mine; but, to save me, I couldn't remember the name, having only half heard it through the window. All I could think of was that it was some kind of a gold mine, and I groaned at that, for I'd been out here long enough to know that they don't find much but silver here generally. However, I asked a man if there were any gold mines around here, and he said no, and never was and never would be."
"That is true, I know, for my partner, Missoo—"
"Your partner, Missoo!" cried Bill, his eyes starting in amazement.
"Yes, my partner, Missoo," repeated Harry, wondering what was the matter.
"They don't happen to call you Gent out here, do they?"
"That's my name."
"Harry," said Bill, actually winking away a tear. "I'm the proudest chap that ever walked to think that I know you. Will you shake hands?"
Harry blushed as he gave him his hand, knowing that Bill must have heard the story of the burning mine.
Bill shook his hand as if he had never had such a treat before.
"And you," said he, his eyes shining, "are Gent, that went down that shaft. Harry, I don't believe there is another boy in the whole United States would have done a thing like that. Won't Beth be glad you saved her when I tell her that!"
"Please don't say any more about that," pleaded Harry. "Tell me about the gold mine."
"Shake hands once more first," said Bill. "Think of having that to tell Mr. Dewey! Oh, well, I won't say any more! About the gold mine. Oh, yes! The man, after he had said there were no gold mines, told how some Easterners had been let in for a salted mine, and how it was called Tiny Hill Gold Mine even now, when it was as certain as fate that it had nothing but silver in it. Well, I didn't need to be told that name twice. I knew it was my mine, and I got the direction and went straight for it; and there I found my man smoking a cigar in front of the cabin, with a tough-looking specimen sitting on the door-sill."
"Little Dick," observed Harry.
"Little! Well, I wouldn't want him to get hold of me."
"He did get hold of me," said Harry; and he related his recent adventure with him.
"Ah!" cried Bill; "now I understand! I followed them after a while, and I was puzzled to know why Hoyt kept back all the time and let the other man take the lead. It looked so much like some sort of mischief then that I was wondering all the while what on earth it could be. But I never suspected you had anything to do with it. If I'd only known you and Gent were the same person! I wouldn't have had the courage even to have thought of that thing, Harry; but if I could, I'd—"
"You said you wouldn't speak of it again, Bill."
"Well, where was I? Oh, yes! I kept well behind Hoyt, and when he sat down and let the other man go on ahead, there was nothing for me to do but to sit down, too. So I did, and we waited that way for a good while. Then Little Dick, as you call him, came back and took Hoyt away with him, and I could see that he was half-mad about something. I began to have a hard time after that, for we left the trees and got among the rocks, and, in fact, I lost them and lost my way, and I don't suppose I should ever have found it again if I had not seen Little Dick going down the mountain. I watched where he went, and then took the up road after Hoyt; and that brought me here, and that's all. But if I never do it again, Harry, I want to shake hands with you."
Harry shook hands laughingly, for there was something whimsical in Bill that put him in a laughing mood. He had never supposed Bill had so much fun in him; and, perhaps, in the old days Bill had not known it, either. But an honest life, and since then the thought that he was doing good for the boy who had saved Beth's life, had had a very developing effect on him.
They talked a great deal more after that, each giving more details about himself, but Bill insisting on hearing most about Harry, and what he had done and where he had been, and his interest in Missoo was simply intense.
"You shall see him, to-night," promised Harry. "We will go down now, keeping out of sight as much as we can, and I will take you right to his room. He'll be wondering where I am. He said he'd like to see you."
"See me!" cried Bill, pleasure and surprise about equally divided. "What does he know about me?"
"Why, I told him how you saved my life, of course."
They walked down, and Harry led Bill to the house where Missoo was lying in bed. He was much better, but was not able to go about, though he chafed at the notion of Big Missouri being laid up with "a burnt spot on his back."
"I was gettin' lonesome, Gent," he said. "Who's yer friend?" and he eyed Bill over carefully.
"Did you ever hear me speak of Bill Green?" asked Harry.
Missoo lifted himself up on his elbow and looked at Bill.
"Not Bill Green, thet got ye outen thet burnin' mill?" he questioned, to Bill's extravagant delight to think that the great, the famous Missoo had actually kept his name in his memory.
"The very same Bill Green," assured Harry.
"Bill, shake!" said Missoo, briefly. And when he had shaken the hand of the delighted Bill, he held it for a moment, and said to him, "Bill, when ye saved the life o' thet thar Gent, ye saved my life, too, which is wuthless, an' ye saved the lives o' twenty men, some o' them with babbies, 'n some o' them with mothers. Shet up, Gent; I'm talkin'! Ye saved the life, Bill, of a feller what's sand—emery sand, which is the best kind—what's sand down to his toes. Bill, I'm proud to take ye by the hand; 'n I bet ye've got sand yerself."
"So he has, Missoo, as you'll understand, when I tell you his story some day," replied Harry.
"Why not now?" asked Missoo.
Harry made a sign to Bill, and answered:
"Because I want to talk about other things with him. You won't mind if we talk before you, will you, Missoo?"
"Mind ye a-talkin'! Thet's music to me, thet is, Gent," said the admiring giant.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Harry had a two-fold reason for not telling Missoo his adventure at that time. He had not made up his mind yet as to his proper course, and he knew that Missoo would become so excited that it would perhaps make him ill; and he knew also that, if it should become known in the town that Little Dick and Hoyt had done what they had, their lives would not be safe for five minutes after they were caught.
He had no wish to be the cause of so pronounced an example of "miners' justice," and preferred to trust himself to legal law, as soon as he could have Mr. Harmon to advise with him.
The chances were that, if he were to return east now, Mr. Harmon would be home by the time he reached there, if he were not already home.
He talked this over with Bill, later, when Missoo was asleep, and Bill agreed with him, but pointed out the necessity of getting away before Hoyt should discover that he was alive, lest he should contrive in some way to play him another trick; but to that Harry said Hoyt must discover it soon, anyhow.
Missoo was not by any means well, and it was considered desirable by the doctor that he should remain in bed; but he could spare Harry, and, loth as the latter was to leave him before he was fully recovered, he felt that his safety and the interests of his sister, as well as of himself, demanded his presence east as soon as possible.
He put off speaking to Missoo until Bill had made every preparation for leaving, which occupied two days; for, to avoid the chance of being seen by Little Dick, Harry kept close in the house all the time. Moreover, he had decided to go on horseback, as being safer from the observation of Hoyt than the stage.
He had not hoped, really, that it could be kept from the two would-be murderers for a long time that he was still in existence; but he thought that, by keeping out of sight, he might puzzle them as to his intentions, and perhaps frighten them away from Buttercup.
On the third day, and when everything was ready for departure at an hour's notice, Bill suggested that he should run over to the Tiny Hill and take a look at Hoyt and discover what he could.
Harry opposed the plan as dangerous, but Bill laughed at that notion and Harry finally agreed to it.
So Bill went over there early in the morning and was back in a very short time, his eyes telling Harry that something was amiss.
"Gone—both of 'em gone," said Bill. "I was pretty sure of it the minute I set eyes on the place—looked deserted, you know. But I waited a little while and then skirmished around, and finally went right up and knocked at the door. The knocking opened it, and the cabin was empty and everything that was worth a cent had been taken. The stove was cold, and I felt certain that they had been gone over two days."
"Then, of course, they know I wasn't killed," replied Harry; "for Dick would never leave the cabin alone so long if he were coming back at all. Now what shall we do?"
Well, the end of it was that they could not make up their minds what would be the wisest thing to do; but Harry told Missoo that he intended going East soon.
There was evidently a big lump in the miner's throat when he tried to answer Harry's announcement, and when he did speak it was to beg like a child that Harry would stay anyhow until he was up out of bed and walking around.
"It won't be more'n a week, Gent," he said, pleadingly.
In his uncertainty what to do, Harry decided to let his course wait on Missoo's recovery, hoping that in the meantime something would occur to help him decide.
He was a good horseman, but Bill had had very little experience in that way, and so the two went out on their horses every day, generally accompanied by such of the miners as had the leisure and the inclination to ride.
This was an always acceptable escort to Harry, for he could not drive away an uneasy feeling that danger lurked in every lonely place. There were not many rides in the vicinity of the mines, but the mountain trails would do better than no roads at all, and the parties used to go stumbling and straggling over these.
Once Harry dismounted near the cave and ran up to it and looked in; then he was certain that his escape had been discovered, and it seemed probable that it had happened on the same day or the next.
The week passed by and Missoo was gaining his strength rapidly and was sitting up every day. Harry, too, was gaining confidence in the absence of any sign of danger, and two or three times went out riding with Bill without anybody else.
One day they started out alone, and Harry talked of soon being able to start.
"What do you think has become of Hoyt?" asked Bill.
He had asked the same question a great many times, but hoped each time to get a more satisfying answer. It was a question he could not answer to his own satisfaction.
"I wish I knew," Harry responded; "but anyhow we must make a start soon. I wrote to Mr. Harmon that I would be there and he will be expecting me. Besides, I shan't feel comfortable until that matter about the fire is settled. That is the only hold Hoyt has on me now, and as soon as that is gone he will be the one to feel uncomfortable."
"You will have all the money you need out of the mine," said Bill. "Hello! I thought none of the men were coming out to-day."
He had heard the sound of hoofs behind, and he and Harry turned at the same moment. They were then on the stage road, the only real road in the neighborhood.
Harry looked a long time at the party of five coming up behind them at a trot, but could not make them out.
"They look like strangers to me," he said, uneasily.
"What shall we do?" asked Bill, quite as uneasy as Harry.
"We might put spurs to the horses, but that would only carry us further away from Buttercup. Don't act as if you were afraid of anything, Bill. If they are after me, they can catch me; but it isn't likely they will want you, so, if it comes to that, you make a bolt and never mind me."
"Well, I guess!" answered Bill, indignantly.
"Don't you see you can hurry back to Buttercup and call on the miners. They will be after me like bloodhounds."
"Hands up there!" came a sudden command from the rear.
"Turn your horse's head the other way, Bill," whispered Harry, "and throw up your hands. It'll only be an excuse to shoot, if you don't."
They both faced suddenly about and threw up their hands. It was well, apparently, that they did, for the whole party behind them had their revolvers leveled.
"That is the one on the gray horse," said a voice, unpleasantly familiar to Harry.
Arthur Hoyt came from behind the other horseman and pointed at Harry.
"What do you want?" demanded Harry.
"We want you, youngster," said a man who seemed the leader of the party, "if your name is Henry Wainwright."
"He can't deny it," said Hoyt, hurriedly.
"I don't intend to," answered Harry, who was beginning to understand this latest move of his enemy, and who had only one object in view, and that to let Bill have a chance to get away. "My name is Henry Wainwright. What if it is?"
"I have a warrant for your arrest, on the charge of arson. So, if you are disposed to be reasonable, you'll come along with us quietly; if not, I'll clap on the bracelets."
No attention was paid to Bill, who, finding himself unmolested, had let his horse wander by the party, cropping the leaves from the bushes until he was a few yards away, when he caught up the reins and was off like a flash.
Some of the party turned and fired a few shots in the air, but did not pursue until they had waited for an order from their chief.
"He'll alarm the town, and the men will pour out after us," Hoyt cried.
"Let him," said the sheriff, contemptuously. "Alarm the town! You must think they value boys at a high rate up here, mister. I thought, from the way you talked, that a regiment wouldn't be too many. Why, he's a lamb!" and the sheriff laughed, and so did his deputies.
Hoyt gnawed his lip and glanced ominously at Harry, as if he had a mind to shoot him where he stood.
"I tell you," said Hoyt, "that the whole town will be after us."
"Well, I can't help it," replied the sheriff. "If the whole county comes, they can't have my two-thousand-dollar prisoner. I think they know me even in Buttercup, mister."
Hoyt was powerless to do anything, but Harry was certain that he saw a desperate purpose written on his face, and he determined to be on his guard if the men did come after him.
Bill meanwhile was flying back over the five miles that lay between him and Buttercup with all the speed he could obtain from his horse.
He rode into the street at a full gallop, his hat lost and his hair flying, and did not stop until he was at the door of the house where Missoo lived.
He was known by this time as one of Harry's friends, and it was generally known that the two went riding together. To see him coming back in such a fashion was sufficient to make them all wonder, and in the first fear that Harry had met with an accident, there was a rush after Bill all adown the street.
"What's the matter?" "Where's Gent?" "Is he hurt?" were some of the most prominent of the questions.
"Where's Missoo?" asked Bill, in a loud voice.
"Here he is," was the answer from the window of the house. "Whar's Gent?"
"They're taking him to Virginia City on a charge of arson, Missoo. Hoyt's there!"
Missoo understood in a moment, and lifted his hand to still the roar of voices that rose on the announcement made by Bill. Silence came at once. They all knew Missoo would waste no words then.
"I know all about it, boys," he said. "Gent mustn't go ter Virginny City, nohow. Bill, how many on 'em?"
"Five."
"Ten men ter go with me after Gent," continued Missoo.
And Bill wondered at the stern, quiet way of the man. Every man there was eager to go, and Missoo saw it.
"All right, boys! Ev'ry man thet kin git a horse let him go. And a horse fer me. No time ter spare. Quick!"
In fifteen minutes a dozen of the best mounted, led by Missoo, who should not have been out of his room, rode out of the town in the midst of the wildest excitement. Fully fifty men straggled behind as best they could, and perhaps half as many more followed on foot.
"We'll bring him back, boys, if we have ter go ter Virginny City an' razee the town," said Missoo.
And the answer was a yell that made Bill sure that Missoo meant what he said and was taken at his word by his followers.
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
[A PRINCE OF CEYLON.]
Ceylon is so far away, and the Ceylonese so little known to civilized people, that we are apt to imagine them as half-clad barbarians. But they have adopted many modern customs which curiously intermingle with their native habits. A recent traveler thus describes a native prince:
"He wore black trowsers and a coat, a white waistcoat and a heavy, round black cap. On his coat, at the sleeves as well as down the front, and on his waistcoat, were numerous buttons, each one of gold, with a gleaming diamond for a centre. Round his waist was a heavy gold girdle of massive links, with two loops in front which went to form a watch-chain, long enough and strong enough for his highness to hang himself with. The third and fourth fingers of each hand were loaded with rings, set with brilliants and precious stones. In the waistcoat pocket the top of a cigarette case was showing, and, when he pulled it out for a smoke, there was a big cluster of brilliants in the centre of the concave side. His walking-stick had a gold cross-head, and on the other side his initials were set with diamonds and rubies."
[STORIES OF SCHOOL LIFE.]
An old college man recalls two characteristic anecdotes about a well-known Harvard professor, Sophocles, or "Sophy," as he was generally called. He was an excellent teacher, but he had his favorites, whom he would never allow to fail in recitation. One day the question under discussion was the dark color of the water of a certain river. "Why was the water dark?" said Sophocles. One pupil ventured, "Because it was so deep." "That is not right. The next." "Because of the color of the mud;" and so on, until he came to a favorite, when the question took this form: "The reason is not known why the water was black, is it?" "No, sir!" came the natural answer. "That is correct," from Sophocles, with one of his blandest smiles. Another day a student was playing chess in recitation-time, feeling certain that his name would not be called, as the professor had a fixed habit of calling up the students in regular order, and this student was at the tail of the class. But Sophocles saw what was going on, out of the corner of his eye, and said, suddenly, "Mr. Kew, what do you say to this question?" Mr. Kew at once arose and promptly replied, "It is imperfect, because it is in the indefinite tense," an answer which, in nine cases in ten, would have been correct. "Not at all, sir," said Professor Sophocles, calmly, "it is an island in the Ægean Sea!"
Professor Vierecke (four cornered) was connected with a celebrated German university in a walled town, during war times. He was very severe in his teaching methods, and the students determined to get even with him. So three of them went outside the town one day, when they knew he had gone into the country, and disguised themselves with white wigs and spectacles so as to look exactly like him. Toward night they started to return, about half an hour apart. At the gate of the town every one had to give his name to the sentinel stationed there. The first student to arrive gave his name as Einecke (one cornered); the second, half an hour afterward, as Zweiecke (two cornered); the third as Dreicke (three cornered). By this time the sentinel began to be very suspicious over the fact that these elderly men, looking exactly alike, but with names increasing in numerical value, should have passed into the city. There must, he thought, be some plot hatching, and just as he had resolved to report the affair to his superior officer a fourth old man, with white hair and spectacles, came up to the gate. "Your name, sir?" asked the sentinel. "Vierecke." "Ha!" cried the sentinel. "I arrest you as a spy!" The professor vainly protested, told where he lived and his occupation, but the circumstances were so suspicious that he was taken to prison, where he was kept all night and part of the next day, to the intense delight of the persecuted students.
A little six-years-old boy, just learning to spell words of three or four letters, was poring over a book at home, which contained words much beyond his capacity. After trying in vain to make them out, he looked up and said, "Mamma, if I had glasses, I think I could read all these words." His mother laughed and responded, "Only old folks use glasses." The little fellow's face became very serious, and then he asked, anxiously, "Why, mamma, do you think I'm too new?"
It is somewhat remarkable that schoolboys, who are always playing smart tricks, do not quit trying, since they are almost invariably found out; and this is not astonishing, since all teachers have been students and cannot have wholly forgotten the tricks they tried on. In a certain Ohio academy it was announced that a new teacher of mathematics was coming the next day, and the boys prepared to initiate him. They went to a narrow lane, up which he would probably come, and rigged up a complicated apparatus to trip him up and shower him with flour. While thus engaged, a young, dandified fellow came along and surprised them. He was a stranger, and they imagined he came from a more advanced college near by, which impression was heightened when he volunteered his services and suggested many improvements in the "trap." When completed, the boys and their new friend moved away some distance, to await the result of the "initiation." Two hours passed in uncomfortable silence, and then one of the leaders said, "I don't believe he'll come to-night." "Oh, yes," said the stranger, pleasantly; "the truth is, he has come." "What!" cried the boys. "In fact," continued the young man, "I am Professor Cheltenham, and I hope our relations will continue to be agreeable. I am sorry to have disappointed you by coming by an earlier train; but I am glad, because it has made us acquainted in a very effective way!" You may imagine that the boys were amazed, and you will believe that they tried no more tricks on the professor of mathematics.
