Ernest wrote to Bolton that he would start for New York in a week. He added that he had the money necessary for the journey. He said also that he was the son of Dudley Ray, and that he remembered visiting Elmira with his father.
When Bolton received this letter, he exclaimed triumphantly: “Now, Stephen Ray, I have you on the hip. You looked down upon me when I called upon you. In your pride, and your unjust possession of wealth, you thought me beneath your notice. Unless I am mistaken, I shall be the instrument under Providence of taking from you your ill-gotten gains, and carrying out the wishes expressed in the last will of your deceased uncle.”
Ernest left Oreville with four hundred dollars in his pocket. The balance of his money he left, in the hands of his friend Horace Ames, upon whom he was authorized to draw if he should have need.
“I don’t intend to carry all my money with me,” he said to Luke Robbins. “I might lose it all.”
“Even if you did, Ernest, you could draw on me. If you need it, do so without any hesitation.”
“You are a good friend, Luke,” said Ernest warmly. “What should I do without you?”
“I am beginning to wonder what I should do without you, Ernest. Suppose, now, this lawyer puts a fortune in your hands?”
“If he does, Luke, I am sure to need your help in some way.”
“Thank you, Ernest. I know you mean what you say. You may find a better friend, but you won’t find one that is more ready to serve you than Luke Robbins.”
“I am sure of that, Luke,” said Ernest with a bright smile as he pressed the rough hand of his faithful friend.