When Peter Brant was laid away under a tree not far from the cabin where he had ended his days, Ernest felt that he was at liberty to begin the new life that lay before him. Despite the natural sadness which he felt at parting with his old friend, he looked forward not without pleasant anticipations to the future and what it might have in store for him.
Oak Forks had few attractions for him. Time had often dragged wearily with him. He had a literary taste, but could not get hold of books. Peter Brant had about a dozen volumes, none of which he had read himself, but Ernest had read them over and over again. None of the neighbors owned any books. Occasionally a newspaper found its way into the settlement, and this, when it came into Ernest's hands, was devoured, advertisements and all.
How, then, was his time passed? Partly in hunting, partly in fishing, for there was a small river two miles away; but one could not fish or hunt all the time. He had often felt a vague yearning to go to Chicago, or New York, or anywhere where there would be a broader field and large opportunities, and he had broached the subject to Peter.
"I can't afford to go, Ernest," the old man would reply. "I must live on the little I have, for I am too old to work."
"But I am young. I can work," the boy would answer.
"A boy like you couldn't earn much. Wait till I am dead and then you can go where you like."
This would always close the discussion, for Ernest did not like to consider such a contingency. Peter represented his world, for he had no one to cling to except the man whom he supposed to be his uncle.
Now, however, the time had come when he could go forth and enter upon a career. Accordingly he declined Joe Marks' offer to take him into the store. He understood very well that it was only meant in kindness, and that he was not really needed.
"You don't need me, Joe," he said. "You are very kind, but there must be real work for me somewhere."
"Well, my lad, I won't stand in your way, but I've known you a long time, and I shall hate to lose sight of you."
"I'll come back some day, Joe--that is, if I am prosperous, and can."
"If you are not prosperous, if you fall sick, and need a home and a friend, come back, then. Don't forget your old friend Joe Marks."
"I won't, Joe," said Ernest heartily.
"You've got another friend here, Ernest," added Luke Robbins. "I'm a poor man, and my friendship isn't worth much, but you have it, all the same."
Ernest grasped the hands of both. He felt that each was a friend worth having.
"You may be sure that I won't forget either of you," he said.
"When do you expect to go, Ernest, and where?" asked Joe Marks.
"I shall get away to-morrow, I think, but where I shall go I can't tell yet."
"Do you need any money?"
"No; my uncle left me some."
Ernest had not yet secured the gold, but he knew exactly where it was, and now that all his business was ended, he felt that it was time to possess himself of it. Accordingly he took a spade from the house and bent his steps in the direction of the old oak tree.
He went alone, for he thought it best not to take anyone into his confidence. Indeed the only persons whom he would have thought of trusting were Joe Marks and Luke Robbins, and they were both employed, Joe in his store and Luke on a hunting expedition.
Arrived at the tree, Ernest measured off five feet in the direction mentioned by Peter and began to dig. It did not take him long to reach the box, for it was only a foot beneath the surface of the ground.
It proved to be a cigar-box, for Peter was fond of smoking, though he usually smoked a pipe, as being more economical. Ernest lifted the lid and saw a small roll enclosed in brown wrapping-paper, which, on being removed, revealed twenty five-dollar gold pieces. He regarded them with satisfaction, for they afforded him the means of leaving Oak Forks and going out into the great world which he had such a curiosity to enter.
But Ernest was not the only one who regarded the gold pieces with satisfaction.
Hidden behind a tree only a few feet away was a person with whom we are already acquainted. It was Tom Burns, the tramp and vagabond.
He, too, was out in search of gold. He had come from Daneboro and was prowling round the neighborhood, searching for old Peter's hidden treasure. He had deliberated as to whether the cabin or the fields was the more likely place to have been selected. He had nothing in particular to guide him. He did not, however, venture to approach the house just yet, as it would probably be occupied by Ernest.
"I wish I knowed where the old man hid his boodle," soliloquized Tom. "I can't dig all over."
In fact digging was not in Tom's line. It was too much like work, and if there was anything to which Tom was bitterly opposed it was work of any kind.
"The boy must know. Likely the old man told him," he finally concluded. "I'll watch the boy."
He feared he might be too late. Had it been his own case, he would have searched for the gold immediately after the funeral. He naturally supposed that Ernest would do the same. He therefore lost no time in prowling around the cabin, with the especial object of watching Ernest's movements. He was especially favored, as he thought, when from a distance he saw Ernest leaving the cabin with the spade in his hand.
The tramp's heart was filled with joy.
"He is going to dig for the treasure," he said. "I'll keep him in sight."
Tom Burns had no difficulty in doing this, for Ernest bent his steps in his direction.
"I hope he won't discover me," thought Burns; "at any rate, not till I find out where he's going to dig."
All things seemed to favor the tramp. Ernest stopped when he came to the oak tree, and it was evident this was the spot of which he was in search.
"Why, that's where I was lying the other night!" thought Burns. "If I had only knowed! Why, the gold was right under me all the time. If I'd found it then, I should have gone off with it before this time. How ever, it isn't too late now."
He watched with subdued eagerness while Ernest was digging. He no longer doubted that this was the place where the gold was hidden. Ernest could have no other object in digging in this place.
"I wonder how much there is," thought Burns. "There ought to be as much as a thousand dollars. Perhaps there's two or three. But even if there is only a thousand, it will set me on my feet. I'll soon get out of this neighborhood. I'll go to Chicago or New York, and I'll live in clover. I'll make up for lost time. I've been a vagabond long enough. I'll buy some new clothes, and set up as a respectable man."
When Ernest found the roll of coins, and taking them out, put them in his pocket, he was not disappointed, for he knew what to expect, but Tom Burns was in dismay.
"Only a hundred dollars?" he soliloquized. "What's a hundred dollars? The old man ought to be ashamed of himself. Why, it isn't respectable!"
However, one thing was certain. A hundred dollars was better than nothing. It would take him to Chicago, and enable him to live in comfort for a while. Besides, he might multiply it many times at the gaming table, for Tom Burns had been a gambler in his day. He certainly did not propose to disdain the sum which fortune had placed in his way simply because it was so small. Oh, no, Tom Burns was not that sort of a man.
Ernest put the gold pieces in his pocket and turned to go back to the cabin, when a voice reached him.
"Look here, boy, I'll trouble you to hand over that money."
Ernest turned and regarded the tramp in amazement.
"What do you mean?" he demanded.
"I want that money you just dug up," replied Tom Burns boldly.
Instantly Ernest comprehended his danger. He was a stout boy, but the tramp was a large man, weighing probably fifty pounds more than himself. Moreover, he looked desperate and reckless. The boy felt that in strength he was no match for the thief who confronted him.
Yet he could not bear the thought of allowing himself to be robbed. Left penniless, how could he carry out the plans which he had in view? He tried to gain time.
"Do you want to rob me?" he asked.
"I have just as much right to that money as you," said the tramp.
"How do you make that out?"
"The man who put it there owed me money."
"Do you think I am a fool to believe that ridiculous story?"
"You'd better be careful how you talk," said Burns menacingly. "What I say I mean."
"Then all I can say is that you have told a falsehood. You are the man, I suppose, who entered our cabin at night and stole money out of a trunk."
"I don't know anything about your trunk," said Burns mendaciously. "But I have no time to talk--I want that money."
Ernest looked about him, hoping to see some one to whom he could appeal for help, but no one appeared in sight. Next he looked at the tramp, to note if he were armed. To his relief Burns did not appear to have any weapon with him. Rapidly he determined not to give up the money without a struggle.
"I won't give up the money to a thief," he said boldly.
As he spoke he turned and ran as fast as he was able.
Tom Burns uttered an execration and prepared to pursue him.
Winged with fear of losing his gold, Ernest flew rather than ran, not heeding the direction he was taking. The tramp accepted the challenge and put forth his utmost speed in the hope of overtaking him.
"You'll pay for this, boy," he growled. "Just let me catch you."
But Ernest did not mean to be caught. Being a fast runner for a boy of his size, he bade fair to out-distance his pursuer. But directly in his path was an excavation of considerable size and depth. Ernest paused on the brink to consider whether to descend the sloping sides or to go round it. The delay was fatal. The tramp saw his advantage, and, pushing forward, seized him by the collar.
"I've caught you!" he cried, triumphantly. "Now give me the money."
There was a brief struggle, but a boy, even a strong boy, was no match for a man taller and heavier than himself. The gold pieces were snatched from him, and the tramp, releasing his hold, was about to make off in triumph when he found himself seized in turn.
"Why, you contemptible thief!" exclaimed Luke Robbins, for it was he whose opportune coming had saved Ernest from being plundered. "Are you trying to rob the boy?"
He seized the tramp by the collar, forced him to give up the gold he had just snatched from Ernest, and flung him on his back.
The tramp's surprise deepened to dismay when, looking up, he saw the stalwart hunter with stern face looking down upon him.
"It was my money," he whined.
"Your money, you owdacious liar! Don't tell me that or I'll treat you worse."
"But it was. I had hidden it under a tree. I came along just as the boy dug it up. I told him to give it to me, for it was mine, but he wouldn't, and then I chased him."
"What's the truth of the matter, Ernest?" asked Luke.
"It was money that Peter Brant had hidden away. He told me on his deathbed where to look for it."
"I thought it was Peter's."
"I had just dug it up and put it in my pocket when this man came along. He ordered me to give it him."
"Did he say he hid it there?"
"No. He said that Peter owed him money, and he wanted it."
"You appear to be a very ingenious liar," remarked Luke, turning to the tramp. "Which of these stories do you want me to believe?"
"I hid it there!" said the tramp, doggedly.
"Then why did you tell the boy that Peter owed you money?"
"Because I didn't think he would believe that I hid it."
"You are right there. He don't believe it, nor do I. One thing more--were you the man that broke into his cabin and stole two gold pieces from his trunk?"
"No. I don't know anything about it."
"Of course you would deny it. All the same, I have no doubt that you were the man."
"If I had done it he would have seen me."
"That won't go down. He was asleep. Ernest, what shall I do with this fellow? Shall I shoot him?" and Luke Robbins pulled out a revolver, which he handled in a significant way.
"Don't shoot! Spare my life, Mr. Robbins!" cried the tramp, in great alarm.
"Humph! I don't see the good. Your life is of no value to the world."
"Let him go, Luke," said Ernest, "but tell him to clear out of this neighborhood."
"It is treating him too well. Still, I will do as you say. Hark, you fellow, what is your name?"
"Tom Burns."
"You are a disgrace to the name of Burns. If I spare your life will you leave this neighborhood and never come back?"
"Yes, yes," answered the tramp, earnestly.
"You'd better keep that promise. If I ever catch sight of you again, I'll shoot with out asking you any questions. Nowget!"
Tom Burns got up and started away with celerity. He thought it wise to put as great a distance as possible between himself and the tall and stalwart hunter, fearing that he would repent his leniency and end his life by a stray bullet.
"I'll scare him a little," said Luke.
He fired after the fugitive, taking care not to hit him, however. Tom Burns heard the bullet whistling by his head, and with a cry of terror increased his speed till he reached a place where he felt secure. Then, sinking down on the ground, he uttered an ejaculation of relief.
"That is a terrible man!" he panted. "He'd as soon take my life as not. I won't get in his way again if I can help it."
Luke Robbins laughed.
"That is my parting message," he said. "Well, Ernest, where do you want to go? What are your plans?"
"I don't know," answered Ernest, gravely. "I am not sure that I have any plans. I feel upset completely."
"Sit down here and I'll talk to you."
He pointed to a little ridge which would serve as a seat.
The two sat down together.
"Now, how much money have you got?"
"A hundred dollars,"
"It isn't much. Is that all your uncle left?"
"I think so. He said nothing about having more."
"It isn't much to begin the world with. I wish for your sake, boy, that I had some to give you, but I never knew how to get together money."
"I guess it will do, Luke. I have health and strength. I think I can make my way."
"But you have no trade."
"Have you?"
"No, Ernest. You've got me there. I am only a hunter, but I don't make much of a living. I don't recommend you to follow in my steps. I'd like to keep you with me, but it wouldn't pay you."
"One thing is certain, Luke. I must get away from here. There is nothing I can do in Oak Forks."
"Where do you want to go, lad?"
"I don't know. I might go eastward to Chicago or New York, or I might go West to California. Have you ever been to either place, Luke?"
"No, lad, but if I had my choice I'd go westward. I've heard fine stories of California. I think I should like to see that land, and push on to the Pacific ocean."
"Why don't you go?"
"Stop a minute! Let me think!"
The hunter assumed a thoughtful look. He remained silent for five minutes. Then he said, as if to himself, "Why not?"
Ernest still kept silence, but his eyes were fixed upon the face of the hunter.
Finally Luke looked up.
"How do you want to go, lad?" he asked. "Do you want to go by the railroad, or are you in for a tramp over the mountains and plains?"
"That depends on whether I am to go alone or not. If I go alone I shall prefer to go by rail."
"Are you in for a long tramp with me?" asked Luke, his face glowing with new-born enthusiasm.
"I will go anywhere with you, Luke."
"Then it is agreed. We will start to-morrow."
Nothing could have pleased Ernest better than to travel with the companionship of Luke Robbins. He felt that he should be safe with the sturdy hunter, who was strong, resolute, and reliable.
True, he was not a man who had succeeded, as men reckon success. He had lived comfortably, but it had never occurred to him to lay up money, nor indeed had he had any opportunity to do so. He mentioned this as an objection to the trip which he had himself proposed.
"My lad," he said, "I am afraid I can't go with you, after all."
"Why not, Luke?"
"Because you're rich, compared with me."
"I have but a hundred dollars."
"And I well, lad, I'm ashamed to say so, but I have only fifteen."
"We'll share and share alike, Luke."
"No, lad. Luke Robbins is too proud to live upon a boy. I reckon I'd better stay at home."
"But I want you to go and take care of me, Luke. How can I travel alone?"
Luke brightened up.
"That puts a different face on it, Ernest. If you think you need me, I'll go."
"I do need you."
"Then go I will; but one thing is understood--I won't take any of your money."
"There won't be any trouble on that score, Luke."
So the two prepared for their trip. Ernest, with Luke's help, purchased an outfit, and on the morning of the third day the two started out together, neither having a very definite idea where they were going except that their course was westward.
Luke knew very little of the States and Territories that lay between Oak Forks and the Pacific coast. Ernest, whose education was decidedly superior to his companion's, was able to give him some information. So they plodded on, making slow progress, but enjoying the unconventional life, and the scenery on the way.
They were in no hurry. They stopped to hunt and fish, and when the weather was unfavorable they stayed overnight at some wayside cabin. When the nights were fine they camped out, and enjoyed a sound rest under the open canopy of heaven.
Part of their way led through woods and over prairies, but here and there they came to a thriving village. There was little occasion to spend money, but still they were compelled to use some.
One day--it was some weeks from the time when they started--Luke turned to Ernest with a sober face.
"Ernest," he said, "I think you'll have to leave me at the next poor-house."
"Why, Luke?"
"Because my money is nearly all gone. I started with fifteen dollars. Now I have but one."
"But I have plenty left."
"That doesn't help me."
"I want to share it with you, Luke."
"Don't you remember what I said when we set out, lad?"
"What was it?"
"That I would not touch a dollar of your money."
"Then do you mean to leave me alone, Luke?" pleaded Ernest reproachfully.
"You are a boy and I am a man. I'm forty years old, Ernest. Is it right that I should live on a boy less than half my age?"
Ernest looked at him in perplexity.
"Is there no way of getting more money?" he asked.
"If we were in California now, and at the mines, I might make shift to fill my purse; but there are no mines hereabouts."
"Let us keep on, and something may turn up."
When this conversation took place they were approaching Emmonsville, a thriving town in Nebraska. As they walked through the principal street, it was clear that something had happened which had created general excitement. Groups of people were talking earnestly, and their faces wore a perturbed and anxious look.
"What's the matter?" asked Luke, addressing a well-to-do appearing man.
"Haven't you heard of the bank robbery over at Lee's Falls?"
"No."
"Two men, fully armed, rode up to the door, and, dismounting, entered the bank. One stepped up to the window of the paying teller, and covering him with his revolver, demanded five thousand dollars. At the same time the other stood in the doorway, also with a loaded revolver."
"Why didn't the teller shoot him down?" asked Luke.
"My friend, bank officers are not provided with loaded revolvers when on duty. Besides, the ruffian had the drop on him."
"Well?" asked Luke.
"What could the teller do? Life is more than money, and he had no alternative. The fellow got the money."
"Did he get away with it?"
"Yes; they both mounted their horses and rode off, no one daring to interfere. Each held his revolver in readiness to shoot the first man that barred his way."
"Where did you say this happened?"
"At Lee's Falls."
"Is it near at hand?"
"It is fifteen miles away."
"But why should that robbery create excitement here?"
"Because we have a bank here, and we are expecting a visit from the same parties."
"Who are they?"
"They are supposed to be the Fox brothers, two of the most notorious criminals in the West. Numberless stories are told of their bold robberies, both from individuals and from banks."
"How long have these fellows been preying upon the community?"
"We have heard of them hereabouts for three years. It is said they came from Missouri."
"Is there no one brave enough or bold enough to interfere with them?"
"More than one has tried it, but no one has succeeded. Twice they were captured by a posse of men, but in each case they broke jail before it was time for the trial.
"It seems to me you haven't many men of spirit in Nebraska."
"Perhaps you think you would be a match for them," said the citizen in a sarcastic tone.
Luke Robbins smiled and handled his revolver in a significant way.
"If you think you can kill or capture them, stranger, there's a chance to make a good sum of money."
"How is that?"
"A thousand dollars is offered for either, dead or alive."
"A thousand dollars!" repeated Luke, his face glowing with excitement. "Is that straight?"
"It will be paid cheerfully. You can bet on that."
"Who offers it?"
"The Governor of the State."
Luke Robbins became thoughtful and remained silent.
"Did you hear that, lad?" he asked, when he and Ernest were alone.
"Yes, Luke."
"A thousand dollars would do us a great deal of good."
"That is true, Luke, but it would be as much as your life is worth to hunt the rascals."
"Don't try to make a coward of me, Ernest."
"I couldn't do that, Luke. I only want you to be prudent."
"Listen, lad. I want that thousand dollars, and I'm going to make a try for it. Come along with me."
"Where are you going?"
"To the bank. I'm going to have a talk with the officers, and then I'll decide what to do."
At the Emmonsville bank they were on their guard. The expectation of a visit from the Fox brothers caused anxiety and apprehension. The evil reputation of these men, and their desperate character, made them formidable.
When Luke Robbins entered the place he was regarded with suspicion. His hunting-costume was not unlike that of a bandit. But the fact that he had a young companion tended to disarm suspicion. No one could suspect Ernest of complicity with outlaws, and the Fox brothers had never been known to carry a boy with them.
Luke was unused to banks. So far as he knew, he had never entered one before. He looked around him in uncertainty, and finally approached the window of the receiving teller.
"Are you the boss of this institution?" he asked.
The teller smiled.
"No," he said. "Perhaps you want to see the president?"
"I guess he's the man."
"If you will give me a hint of the nature of your business, I will speak to him."
"I hear you're expectin' a visit from the Fox brothers."
"Have you anything to do with them?" asked the teller with some suspicion.
"I want to have something to do with them," returned Luke.
"I don't understand you."
"Then I'll tell you what I mean. I hear there's a big reward out for their capture."
"A thousand dollars."
"I want that thousand dollars, and I want it bad."
"I shall be very glad if you become entitled to it. Any one who will rid the State of either of these notorious outlaws will richly deserve it."
"That's the business I came about. Now can I see the president, if that's what you call him?"
"Wait a minute and I will find out."
The teller went to an inner room, and returned with a stout, gray-headed man of about fifty.
He looked curiously at Luke through the window. Then, as if reassured, he smiled.
"I understand you want to see me," he said.
"Yes."
"About the Fox brothers?"
"You're right there, squire."
"Go to the last door and I will admit you."
Luke Robbins did as directed, and soon found himself in the office of the president of the bank.
"You are anxious to secure the reward offered for the capture of these outlaws, I believe."
"That's straight."
"Why do you come to me, then?"
"Because a man told me you expected a visit from them."
"That is not quite exact. I don't expect a visit, but I am afraid they may take it into their heads to call here."
"Suppose they do."
A shade of anxiety appeared upon the face of the president.
"We should try to foil their plans," he answered.
"Wouldn't you like to have me on hand when they come?"
The president looked over Luke Robbins carefully. He was impressed by his bold, resolute air, and muscular figure. Evidently he would be a dangerous man to meet.
"You are a strong, resolute fellow, I judge," he said thoughtfully.
"Try me and see."
"You would not be afraid to meet these villains single-handed?"
"I never saw the man yet that I was afraid to meet."
"So far, so good, but it is not so much strength that is needed as quickness. A weak man is more than a match for a strong one if he gets the drop on him."
"That's so, but I reckon it'll take a smart man to get the drop on me.
"What have you to propose? I suppose you have formed some plan."
"I would like to stay around the bank, and be on the watch for these fellows."
"Remain here and I will consult with the cashier."
Five minutes later the president rejoined his visitor.
"I have no objection to securing your services," he said, "if it can be done without exciting suspicion. In your present dress your mission would at once be guessed, and the outlaws would be on their guard. Have you any objection to changing your appearance?"
"Not a particle. All I want is to get a lick at them outlaws."
"Then I think we shall have to make you a little less formidable. Have you any objections to becoming a Quaker?"
Luke Robbins laughed.
"What! one of those broad-brimmed fellows?" he said.
"Yes."
"Will I look the character?"
"Dress will accomplish a good deal. I will tell you what put the idea into my head. We used to employ as janitor an old Quaker--a good, honest, reliable man. He was about your build. A year since he died, but we have hanging up in my office the suit he was accustomed to wear. Put it on, and it will make a complete change in your appearance. Your face will hardly correspond to your dress, but those who see the garb won't look any further."
"That's all right, boss. I don't care how you dress me up. But what will I do?"
"I think it will be well for you to keep near the bank, watching carefully all who approach. You never saw the Fox brothers, I presume?"
"I never had that pleasure."
"Most people don't regard it as a pleasure. I will give you some description of them, which may help you to identify them. One is a tall man, very nearly as tall as yourself; the other is at least three inches shorter. Both have dark hair, which they wear long. They have a swaggering walk, and look their real characters."
"I don't think it'll be hard to spot them. They generally ride on horseback, don't they?"
"Generally, but not always. They rode into Lee's Falls and up to the bank entrance on horseback. Perhaps for that reason they may appear in different guise here."
"You haven't any pictures of them, have you?"
The president laughed.
"No one was ever bold enough to invite them into a photographer's to have their pictures taken," he said.
"I see. Well, I think I shall know them."
"Perhaps not. They often adopt disguises."
"They won't come as Quakers?"
"That is hardly likely. I can give you one help. However they may be dressed, their eyes will betray them. They have flashing black ones, and sharp, aquiline noses."
"I'll know them," said Luke confidently.
"I observe that you have a boy with you?
"Yes."
"Is it your son?"
"No; I wish he were. I'd be proud to have such a son as that."
"Perhaps we can use him. The bank messenger--a young man--is sick, and he can take his place temporarily."
"Is there any pay for such work?"
"Yes, but it is small. We will give him ten dollars a week. Of course he must be honest and trustworthy."
"I'll stake my life on that boy, boss," said Luke warmly.
"His appearance is in his favor. Will you call him?"
Ernest was waiting in the doorway. He was anxious to learn the result of Luke's interview with the president of the bank. He had thought it very doubtful whether his proposal would be looked upon favorably, but hoped some good might come of it.
"The boss wants to see you," announced Luke.
"All right; I will follow you. What luck are you meeting with, Luke?"
"Good. I've hired out to the bank as a Quaker detective."
Ernest stared at his companion in astonishment. He thought it was a joke.
When he came into the presence of the president the latter said, "I understand from your friend here that you would like employment?"
"I should," answered Ernest promptly.
"The post of bank messenger is temporarily vacant. Would you like it?"
"Yes, sir, if you think I can fill it."
"You are rather young for the place, but I think you will fill it satisfactorily. We will instruct you in the duties."
"Very well, sir; I accept it with thanks."
"Of course it is necessary that you should be honest and reliable. But upon those points I have no doubt. Your face speaks for you."
"Thank you, sir. When do you wish me to begin my duties?"
"To-morrow. I suppose you are not as yet provided with a boarding-place. You can get settled to-day, and report at the bank to-morrow morning at nine."
"Wait here a minute, Ernest," said Luke. "I will join you at once."
When Luke emerged from the president's room he was attired in the Quaker costume of his predecessor. Ernest stared at him for a moment, then burst into a loud laugh.
"Why does thee laugh?" asked Luke mildly.
This sent Ernest into a second convulsion.
"Do I look like a man of peace?" asked Luke.
"Yes; shall you live up to the character?"
"Until I see the Fox brothers. Then the lamb will become a lion."
Luke Robbins entered at once upon his duties as janitor of the Emmonsville bank. It was rather difficult, however, to supply him with employment enough to account for his being in constant attendance.
He was provided with a broom, and in the morning swept the bank. Sometimes he washed the windows; at other times he sat on a bench in the rear of the bank, ready for any call upon his services. So far as garb went, he resembled a Quaker, but his brown face and sharp eyes hardly harmonized with his assumed character. Still less did the revolver which he carried in an inside pocket.
Several days passed, and though Luke kept a sharp lookout for the Fox brothers, he did not catch a glimpse of anyone who suggested or resembled them.
Then one morning Luke went to the bank as usual and put on his Quaker garb.
About eleven o'clock an elderly man appeared and presented a check for five hundred dollars. The money was paid him, and then he lingered a moment, ill at ease.
"I don't like to have so much money about me," he said, in a tone that betrayed anxiety.
"No doubt you will find plenty who would be willing to relieve you of it," rejoined the paying teller, with a smile.
"That's what I am afraid of. They do say that the Fox brothers have been seen not far away."
"Is it absolutely necessary that you should have the money in your possession? You could leave it in the bank, or most of it."
"I shall want to use some of it to-morrow, and I live ten miles away--in Claremont."
"How are you going back?"
"I have a buggy outside."
"The road to Claremont is rather lonely, I believe."
"Yes."
"Why don't you get some one to go with you?"
"I don't know any one I could get."
"I can find you a companion, but he would want to be paid."
"I'll pay him if he'll see me through all right."
"I have the very man for you. Here, Luke!"
Luke Robbins heard the call and approached.
"The farmer looked at him doubtfully.
"A Quaker?" he said, in a disappointed tone.
"He is no more a Quaker than you are. He is a detective, and very anxious to meet either of the Fox brothers."
The farmer brightened up.
"He's the man I'm after, then."
A bargain was struck between Luke and Ezekiel Mason, whereby the farmer promised to pay him five dollars to accompany him home and remain over night at the farm-house until he had disposed of the money the way he intended.
Luke was glad to accept the proposal. It promised variety, and possibly adventure. The farmer climbed into the buggy, and the Quaker detective, following, took a seat by his side.
After they had driven some time they reached a part of the road where for a clear mile in advance there was not a house or building of any kind to be seen.
"This is the place I was most afraid of," said the farmer.
"Yes, it seems to be lonely. I wish one of the Fox brothers would happen along."
"Why?" asked the farmer, in a tone of alarm.
"Because I would like to tackle him."
"Why are you so anxious to tackle him? I cannot understand."
"Then I'll tell you, my honest friend. There is a reward of a thousand dollars offered for the capture of one of these famous outlaws, dead or alive."
Ezekiel Mason shrugged his shoulders.
"I'd rather earn the money some other way!" he said.
"You are only a peaceful farmer, while I am a fighting Quaker," responded Luke.
As he spoke he looked up the road, and his glance fell upon a short, compactly built man, in a gray suit, who was walking towards them. He seemed a quiet, commonplace person, but there was something about him that attracted Luke's attention.
"Do you know that man?" he asked abruptly.
"No," answered Mason, after a rapid glance.
"Are the Fox brothers tall men?" asked Luke.
"One only."
"The other?"
"Is about the size of the man who is approaching."
Luke did not reply, but examined still more critically the advancing pedestrian.
"If this should be one of the Foxes," he began.
"Do you think it is?" asked the farmer in a terrified tone.
"I can't tell. If it proves to be, do exactly as I tell you."
"Yes," replied the farmer, now thoroughly alarmed.
By this time the new-comer was but twenty feet distant. Though his appearance and dress were commonplace, his eyes, as they could see, were dark and glittering.
He made a halt.
"Friends," he said, "can you oblige me with the time?"
The farmer was about to produce his big, old-fashioned, silver watch, when Luke nudged him sharply.
"Leave him to me," he whispered, in a tone audible only to the farmer.
"Thee has asked the wrong party," he said aloud. "We don't carry watches."
The pedestrian regarded him with contempt. Whoever he might be, he looked upon a Quaker as a mild, inoffensive person, hardly deserving the name of man.
"I didn't speak to you," he said scornfully.