"There! I'm all right now," he said, as he stumbled back to Ralph's side.
"What a beastly storm!" he went on.

"It is. What are you going to do about the barge?"

"I don't care what becomes of her," growled the man. "I was only a
passenger on the tug, and went on the barge for fun. Let the captain pick
her up as best he can."

"But you want to find the tug, don't you?" asked Ralph, in some surprise.

"Not if you will put me ashore. Where are you bound?"

"Westville."

"That will suit me first rate. Take me there, and I'll pay you the passage
money instead of the tug captain."

"I'll take you there without pay," said Ralph.

At that moment a steam whistle sounded close at hand, and presently they
beheld the steam tug, with the captain on the forward deck, gazing
anxiously ahead.

"There she is!" cried the man Ralph had picked up.

"We'll call to the captain, and let him know where his hay barge is,"
replied Ralph.

He accordingly hailed those on the steam tug. Soon the craft was close
beside him.

"Your barge is off in that direction," said Ralph, pointing with his hand.

"And I am here, captain, and going to stay here," put in Ralph's passenger.
"No more hay barges for me."

"Don't you want to come on the tug?"

"No."

"All right then, suit yourself."

And the next moment the steam tug shot out of sight, in the direction in
which the hay barge was drifting.

The storm now let up a bit, and Ralph was able to take a good look at the
fellow beside him. He was a tall, strong-looking chap, with sharp black
eyes, and a heavy head of dark hair. He wore a long mustache, and there was
a slight scar directly in the center of his forehead.

"What's your name, youngster?" he asked, presently, as Ralph let out the
mainsail.

Ralph told him.

"Mine is Dock Brady. I am a surveyor from Utica. Do you follow this sort of
thing for a living?"

"No, sir."

"Just out for pleasure, eh?"

"Hardly that; I am returning the boat to Westville for a friend."

"Oh, I see." Dock Brady mused for a moment. "Westville is quite a place, I
believe," he went on.

"Not so very large, sir."

"Larger than Silver Cove, though?"

"Oh, yes--twice as large."

"Quite a few summer boarders, eh?"

"Back of the village, yes. There are no folks stopping in the village
itself."

"No, but that helps to liven up things, of course--buying stuff and mailing
letters."

He paused again.

"Yes, they have to come there for goods, and that makes the stores do very
well. And the post office is a lively enough place at mail times."

"Always is, when there are summer boarders around." The man laughed
lightly. "Can I help you with the boat?" he went on, changing the subject.

"You can hold the tiller while I hoist the jib," said Ralph. "The storm is
over, I guess."

The jib was unfurled and the mainsail let out full, and once again the
little craft went bounding on her way.

Ralph did not take to his passenger's appearance, and said very little
during the remainder of the trip. The man also relapsed into silence, as
if resolving some scheme in his mind.

Before sundown Westville was reached. At the bridge the man got off, and
tossed Ralph a silver dollar. In a moment more he was out of sight.

Little did Ralph imagine under what exciting circumstances he and Dock
Brady were to meet again.




CHAPTER XV.

LOOKING FOR WORK.


Mrs. Nelson was surprised to see Ralph come in almost soaked to the skin
from the rain.

"Why, Ralph, why didn't you go under shelter!" she cried.

"Because I couldn't get under," he laughed, and then he explained that he
had been on the lake instead of over to Eastport.

"And I've earned two dollars by the operation," he added.

"I am thankful you escaped injury by the storm," she shuddered. "It must
have been fearful out on the water."

"It was pretty rough, I admit," he said. "But it is over now, and no harm
done."

"You had better change your clothes before you sit down to eat."

"I will," said Ralph, and went upstairs for that purpose.

When he came down again he found the evening meal on the table, and, being
hungry, he ate his full share.

Mother and son spent a quiet evening at home, and retired early. In the
morning Ralph was up before sunrise, putting things in order around the
house.

By eight o'clock he was on his way to Eastport. As he was crossing the
bridge, Dan Pickley stopped him.

"Ain't you got an extra key to the bridge lock?" he asked. "I want one for
myself and one for Andy Wilson, who is going to help me."

"There is but one key," returned Ralph. "I always left that in a safe place
in the office, and whoever was here used it."

"Then you ain't got a duplicate?"

"No, I tell you."

"Oh, all right," responded Dan Pickley, and he pursed his lips. He was
about to say more, but suddenly changed his mind.

Somewhat perplexed by Pickley's strange manner, the boy continued on his
way, and a few minutes later found himself in the thriving town for which
he had been bound.

Ralph had no definite place in view. But he knew that the best thing to do
was to seek employment systematically. He resolved to walk to the extreme
end of the town and apply at every store and factory that presented itself.

"Then, if there is any vacancy at all, I am bound to locate it," he said to
himself.

His first visit was paid to a large shoe factory, located directly by the
lakeside.

"I am looking for a place," he began to the foreman, when that individual
waved him away and pointed to a sign over the door, which the boy had not
seen, and which read:

  "_No More Hands Wanted._"

"Excuse me, but I did not see the sign," said Ralph, politely, and walked
off.

After this came another shoe factory, at which the boy fared no better;
indeed, he fared worse, for the foreman, a burly Irishman, ordered him out
very rudely.

"They don't believe in being very civil," thought Ralph. "However, one must
expect some hard knocks in this world."

At a planing-mill the boy fell in with a young man whom he knew quite well.
The young man's name was Harry Ford, and he treated Ralph kindly.

"Very sorry, Ralph, but there is no opening," he said. "Only last week we
discharged two young fellows because we could not keep them going. Orders
are rather slack."

"Then there is nothing at all open?"

Harry Ford shook his head.

"I'll ask the boss if he'll take you on, but I am certain it will do no
good."

The owner of the mill came in just then, and he was appealed to. He at once
said he could not possibly take on a new hand.

"If an opening occurs I'll keep you in mind," said Harry Ford, and with
this promise Ralph had to be content.

After leaving the planing-mill, the boy came to several stores. At the
first and second no help of any kind was needed. At the third they wanted a
boy to distribute circulars.

"The job will last for a week," said the storekeeper, "for I want the
circulars distributed in every place in Eastport, Westville, and all the
summer boarding-houses and hotels in the neighborhood."

"And how much are you willing to pay?" asked Ralph.

"I'll give you four dollars for the week if you do the work properly. I
won't have any circulars wasted."

Ralph hesitated. Four dollars was not much, but it was better than nothing.

"I am looking for a steady place," he said. "But if I can't find it, I'll
take the job," he said.

"I want the circulars to go out as soon as possible. They advertise my
summer sporting goods, and the season is now pretty well advanced."

"Will you keep the place open for me until this evening?"

"What is your name?"

"Ralph Nelson. I used to be the bridge tender."

"Oh, yes, I thought I had seen you before. All right, Nelson; I'll wait
until six o'clock to hear from you."

"Thank you, Mr. Dunham. I'll let you know one way or the other by that
time," said Ralph.

When the boy left the store he found it was already noon. He had a lunch
with him, and, strolling down to the water's edge, he sat on a little dock
and ate it.

He had just about finished when a rowboat came into view. There was a
single occupant at the oars. It was Percy Paget.

"Hallo, there! what are you doing here?" cried the young bully, as he ran
up to the dock and leaped ashore.

"Taking it easy," returned Ralph, coolly.

"Indeed!" said Percy, sarcastically. "Plenty of time for that now, I
suppose."

"Yes, I have more time on my hands than I care to have, Percy."

"Don't call me Percy! I am not an intimate of yours, Ralph Nelson!"

"All right; just as you please."

"If you had treated me like a gentleman on the bridge you wouldn't be out
of a job now," went on the fashionable bully.

"We won't talk about that," returned Ralph, sharply.

And then, to see how late it was, he drew out his new watch and consulted
it.

"Where did you get that watch?" questioned Percy, on catching sight of the
golden time-piece.

"It was made a present to me," replied Ralph, and he smiled at the young
aristocrat's evident wonder.

"A present to you?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"A couple of days ago."

"For your faithful work on the bridge, I suppose," sneered the rich youth.

"Partly for that, and partly for something else."

"Who gave it to you?"

"A rich lady and her daughter."

"You are talking in riddles, Ralph Nelson," cried Percy, more than half
angry at Ralph's short replies.

"Well, then, since you are so curious, let me tell you that the watch,
chain, and charm were presented to me by Miss Julia Carrington and her
mother. Now are you satisfied?"

The shot told. Percy colored to the roots of his reddish hair, and drew
down the corners of his mouth.

"Do you mean to tell me that Julia Carrington really gave you that as a
present?" he ejaculated.

"Yes."

"Because you stopped their team for them?"

"Yes. They were very thankful to me for what they called my bravery."

"Humph! Anybody could have done as much. That team wasn't much to stop."

"It's a pity you didn't stop them then. You were in the carriage, I
understand."

"I was thrown out, or there wouldn't have been any trouble," growled Percy.

"They said you sprang out as soon as you imagined there was danger."

"It isn't so. I'll bet you asked them for the watch--or for some reward,"
went on the young aristocrat, maliciously.

"Not by a good deal; it is not my style, Percy Paget."

"Humph! A low upstart like you----"

"Stop right there!" cried Ralph.

"I won't! You are----"

"If you don't stop I'll pitch you into the lake!"

"You can't do it, Ralph Nelson. You are nothing but a miserable beggar, not
fit for decent folks to associate with. If I had my say----"

Percy got no further. With doubled-up fists Ralph advanced upon him. The
rich young bully saw his danger, and, in sudden alarm for his personal
safety, began to retreat.

He did not notice where he was going, and his heel struck upon a board
which stuck up above the rest of the flooring of the dock. He tripped
backward, and went with a splash into the lake.




CHAPTER XVI.

PERCY HEARS SOMETHING.


Ralph was not much alarmed when Percy Paget went over and disappeared
beneath the waters of the lake. He knew the young aristocrat could swim.
Moreover, the end of the rowboat was within easy reach.

Percy let out one yell, and then went under. The yell was not one of fright
over his safety, but over the thought that all of his elegant clothing
would be wet through and through.

He made a great splashing when he came up, and soon grasped the gunwale of
his boat.

"You rascal!" he spluttered. "Just wait till I settle with you!"

"It's your own fault that you went overboard," retorted Ralph. "I sincerely
hope that it cures your fiery temper."

"Don't talk to me!"

"All right, I won't," and without another word Ralph walked off, leaving
Percy to get out of his predicament as best he could.

The young aristocrat was fearfully angry when he at last drew himself out
of the lake. His hat had floated off, and he was compelled to row away from
shore for it. By the time he came back Ralph had disappeared.

"I'll fix him for that!" muttered the young bully, hotly. "I'll fix him,
see if I don't!"

It made Percy doubly angry to think that Ralph had been so richly rewarded
for stopping the runaway team. Percy thought a good deal of Julia
Carrington, and he fondly hoped that the young and beautiful girl regarded
him with equal favor. He would have been disagreeably surprised had he
known the exact truth.

Percy had rowed over to Eastport, intending to call at Mr. Dunham's
sporting goods store for a new fishing-rod with which to go fishing up the
lake. But now he was out of the humor for this, and, instead of landing
again, he turned back toward Westville.

It was a bright, sunshiny day, and by spreading out his coat on the seats,
he soon had it fairly dry. He also pressed the water from his cap and from
his vest and trousers as best he could.

"Yes, sir, I'll get square with him, just as sure as my name is Percy
Paget," he muttered over and over to himself.

Percy was just about to tie up at one of the little wharves some distance
above the bridge, when he espied two young ladies walking along the shore.
They were Julia Carrington and her intimate friend, Carrie Baker.

"Good-morning!" cried Percy, raising his cap with what he imagined was a
decidedly graceful flourish.

"Good-morning, Mr. Paget," returned Carrie Baker, coldly, while Julia
Carrington merely bowed.

"I trust you are quite over the excitement of a couple of mornings ago,"
went on the rich young man, to Julia.

"Oh, yes," she returned, shortly.

"I guess I got the worst of that," went on Percy. "I got pitched out in
double-quick order, didn't I?"

"Indeed! I fancied you jumped out," rejoined Julia, stiffly.

"What! do you suppose I would jump, and leave you and your mother to your
fate?" demanded the young aristocrat, in well-assumed surprise. "Oh, no,
Julia! You ought to know me better than that."

"I know you well enough, Mr. Paget," returned the girl. "Good-morning," and
she touched her companion on the arm to go.

"Hold on, please!" urged Percy. "It's a splendid morning on the lake. Won't
you go out for a row?"

"Thank you, I don't care to."

"Oh, yes, both of you come," urged the young bully.

"No rowing for me," put in Carrie Baker. "You might get a fright and tumble
overboard, and leave us to our fate," she added, mischievously. Her friend
had told her all the particulars of the incident on the road.

Percy could not help but feel the cut, thick-headed as he was. He tried to
frame some fitting reply, but could not, and so rowed away, feeling in a
worse humor than ever.

"It's all the fault of that Ralph Nelson," he said to himself. "He has set
Julia against me. I'll fix him, see if I don't!"

In the meantime Ralph had resumed his search for employment throughout
Eastport. He could not help thinking of the ludicrous picture Percy had
presented while floundering in the water, and he laughed several times
over the recollection.

Ralph visited three stores and two factories without the first signs of a
situation. Then he came to a place where all sorts of novelties relating to
the stationery trade were turned out.

"I can't give you a job in the factory," said the superintendent, "but I
might start you on the road."

"On the road?"

"Yes, to sell to small dealers. You could take several satchels and a
trunk, and go from village to village. There is a good bit of money to be
made in that way. But you would have to leave a deposit on the goods you
took out."

"And supposing I did not sell them?"

"You can return what remains unsold at the end of each trip."

"How much of a deposit would you require?"

"The wholesale price of the goods taken out--say about fifty dollars up."

"And how about the cost of getting around?"

"Well, I allow a dollar a day to experienced agents for expenses. But a
green hand would have to pay his own way. I have to protect myself in that
way, or otherwise some loafers would just start out to get the dollar,
without doing anything for it."

"I suppose that is so," returned Ralph, thoughtfully. "I will think over
the matter, and perhaps I'll come back later on."

"All right. I can lend you an outfit, on security, so if you do not make a
go of the business you will not be out of pocket a great deal."

"Thank you," returned the boy.

It was now half-past four, and the list of factories was about exhausted.
Three more stores remained. Ralph visited them in quick succession, only to
receive the old answer--no new help wanted.

"I'll go back to Mr. Dunham's, and tell him I'll go to work distributing
those circulars in the morning," said Ralph to himself. "And after that job
is done, if nothing more definite turns up, I'll try peddling those goods
to the small stationery and general stores."

He hurried back to the store where sporting goods were sold. As he entered
he saw Dock Brady at the back counter.

Brady was busy buying some powder, and did not at first see him. But on
turning he nodded pleasantly.

"I wonder what he wants with powder?" thought Ralph. "I did not know
surveyors used it."

But then it crossed his mind that perhaps the man used it for firearms when
surveying in wild parts of the country, and he did not give the matter a
second thought. He waited until Dock Brady had paid for his purchase and
left, and then told the storekeeper of his decision.

"All right, Nelson," said Mr. Dunham. "You can go to work at seven o'clock
to-morrow morning. Let me see, you live in Westville, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Some of the circulars are to go there, and also back to Hopeville.
Supposing you take them with you now, and start out distributing them from
your home, instead of coming here? It will save time."

To this Ralph readily agreed, and, after some few instructions concerning
the work to be done, quitted the store with a big package of the circulars
under his arm.

Although he had struck no regular employment, he was not as disappointed as
he might have been. There was a week's work to do, and then the peddling to
try, and that was something.

"I knew it would be difficult to obtain an opening," said Mrs. Nelson, on
hearing his story. "Times are hard, and you can be thankful that you have
even a little."

"I am thankful, mother," replied Ralph.

"In distributing the circulars you may be able to hear of some opening,"
she went on. "Although you must not waste Mr. Dunham's time in hunting it
up."

"If I waste any time I will make it up to him. I believe in working on the
square, no matter what I do," rejoined Ralph, flatly.

"That is right, my son; treat every person with whom you have dealings
honestly, and you are bound to succeed in life."

During the evening Ralph told his mother of Percy Paget's mishap at the
dock. She shook her head sadly.

"He is a headstrong boy, and I am sorry he comes so often in your path,"
she said. "He will be more down on you now than ever."

"I shall watch out for him," returned Ralph. "He shall not cause me more
trouble, if I can help it."




CHAPTER XVII.

A MIDNIGHT CRIME.


On the following morning, bright and early, Ralph started out to distribute
Mr. Dunham's circulars. He carried the bulk of them in a canvas bag over
his shoulder, and took his lunch with him, in case he was not near home
during the noon hour.

After leaving a circular at each of a dozen cottages, he came to the
stores.

"Hallo, in a new business, eh?" remarked Uriah Dicks as he placed one of
the bills on the latter's front counter.

"Yes, sir."

"I guess that don't pay much," sniffed Uriah.

"It pays better than nothing," laughed Ralph.

"You might better have come here to work for me."

"That is a matter of opinion, Mr. Dicks."

"No, it hain't; it's the truth," grumbled the storekeeper. "How long is
that makeshift job goin' to last?"

"A week."

"Exactly! an' then you'll be out again."

"Perhaps something else will turn up in the meantime."

"'Tain't likely. A job in the store would be more respectable than carting
around sech trash, which everybody sticks in the fire soon as they get
'em."

The truth was that Uriah was hard pressed for help, his son having gone
away on a business trip to Chambersburgh and New York. He had tried to get
a boy in vain, all of those in the village knowing his mean ways too well
to undertake to work for him.

"This is honest work, and that's enough for me," said Ralph. "I am not
ashamed of it."

"Well, suit yourself. Only I won't hold my offer to you open long," warned
Uriah.

"Don't hold it open at all, if you can get any one else," said Ralph, and,
fearing he was wasting his employer's time, he hurried off to the next
place.

"Seems he don't care for a steady place, nohow!" growled Uriah, sourly.
"Some boys don't know what's good for them!"

Ralph visited all of the stores, and even left a number of the circulars in
the post office, tying them up on a string where the people coming in for
letters might tear one off. Mr. Dunham had told him to do this and had
given him a special package for that purpose.

While he was at work the clerk in the office, Henry Bott, came out to see
what he was doing.

A little talk ensued regarding the circulars. It appeared that Mr. Hooker
did not approve of circulars about the place.

"But you leave them there," said Henry Bott, "and I won't take them down
unless he especially orders it."

Ralph was about to leave the post office when he brushed against a man who
had just come in. The man was Dock Brady.

The boy was about to say something about meeting once more, but Brady gave
him no chance. As soon as he saw he was recognized he turned on his heel
and walked away again.

"He acts mighty queer," thought the boy. "What can make him wish to avoid
me?"

Ralph wondered if he would meet Percy on the hill among the fashionable
houses. But he saw nothing of the aristocratic bully, although he even left
a circular on the Pagets' front piazza.

By noon the boy had gone through the entire town. Then, after taking lunch,
he started on foot for Hopeville, a mile away.

The road was uphill, leading directly from the lake shore. But soon Ralph
was overtaken by a man in a farm wagon. It was some one he knew fairly well
and the man asked him up on the seat.

"Thank you, Mr. Gillup, I wouldn't mind riding, as it is warm," said Ralph.

"Going to Hopeville with them bills?" asked Mr. Gillup, a farmer.

"Yes."

"Got into a new business since you left the bridge."

"For a time. It won't last long."

"It is a pity they took the bridge job from you. I jest told Ben Hooker,
the postmaster, so."

"They acted as they thought best, I presume."

"I understand Squire Paget was at the bottom of it. He appears to be very
much down on you."

"It's on account of his son Percy. He wouldn't do the right thing, and we
had a row."

"Can't tell me nuthin' about that boy! Didn't I catch him stealin' my
choicest pears last summer? If he comes around my place again, I'll fill
him full of shot, see if I don't!"

"You had better not, Mr. Gillup! The squire will have you arrested. He
won't let any one do the first thing against Percy."

"I ain't afeared of him, Ralph. If he comes around, he'll get the shot,
sure pop. But I ain't calkerlatin' he'll come, because I give him warnin',
and he's too precious scared o' his hide."

"I can't understand how the squire can put up with Percy's ways," said
Ralph, after a pause. "He seems to ride right over his father."

"Squire Paget will rue it one of these days," returned Mr. Gillup, with a
grave shake of his head. "Boys as is allowed their own way like that never
amount to much."

The conversation helped to pass the time, and almost before they knew it,
Hopeville was reached. Ralph thanked the farmer and left the wagon.

After leaving a bill in every store and house in the village, Ralph walked
around to the various summer boarding-places. This took time, and ere he
had finished it was dark.

"There! I imagine that is one fair day's work done," he said, at last, as
he reached his final handful of bills. "I've covered a good many miles
since I left home this morning."

He was fortunate enough to catch a ride back with a man who was carting a
load of garden truck down to the lake for shipment, and he entered the
cottage just as the clock was striking seven.

"Done for the day, and glad of it, mother!" he cried.

"You are not used to tramping around, Ralph," she returned, as she kissed
him.

"That's a fact. I don't believe I would make a very good tramp, anyway," he
went on.

"I trust you will never be reduced to that," she shuddered.

"No, I'm going to be something better than a tramp."

"Where have you been?" asked Mrs. Nelson.

Sitting down, Ralph told the story of his day's work. Like the true mother
she was, Mrs. Nelson was thoroughly interested in all he had to say.

"To-morrow I shall go to Silver Cove and Rickson's Corners," he said. "And
the day after to the hotels up at the head of the lake."

"I shouldn't think it would pay Mr. Dunham to advertise in this way."

"I think it will. Up at Hopeville I met a gentleman who read the circular
eagerly. He said he had been hunting for a store where he might buy some
toys and games for his children, and he is going to visit Mr. Dunham's
place to-morrow. Half-a-dozen good customers would pay for the bills and
for the distributing, too."

"If Mr. Dunham gets such an increase in trade, perhaps he will give you a
place in the store," suggested Mrs. Nelson.

"That's so. I'll speak to him about it."

During the evening meal, Ralph noticed that his mother did not appear to
be very well, and presently he asked her about it.

"I have a pain in my side, Ralph," she said. "But I imagine it will get
better by morning."

The two retired early. Ralph, worn out by his day's travels, soon fell
asleep.

It was nearly two o'clock in the morning when Mrs. Nelson called him.

"It is too bad, Ralph," she said. "But I cannot stand it any longer."

"What is it, mother, the pain in your side?" he asked, springing up.

"Yes. It is growing worse, and I must have something for it."

"Shall I go for Dr. Foley?"

"You may go to his house. Tell him what is the trouble, and ask him to give
you a plaster or some liniment for it."

"I will. You are not afraid to stay alone while I am gone?"

"Oh, no, only hurry as fast as you can."

"I will," replied Ralph, quickly.

In a few minutes he was in his clothes and on the way. Dr. Foley lived on
the other side of the village, and the boy ran in the direction as rapidly
as he could.

Ralph had to pass the building in which the post office was located. He was
within a hundred feet of the place when suddenly a muffled explosion
reached his ears.

"Hallo, what's that?" he cried to himself, and stopped short.

At first no sound followed the explosion. Then came hasty footsteps, and in
the semi-darkness of the early morning he saw two men and a boy run from
the post office building and hurry in the direction of the lake.

It was too dark to distinguish more than the forms of the persons and note
that they each carried a satchel. In a few seconds they were out of sight.

"Something is wrong," thought Ralph. "What had I best do?"

Half a minute later several men rushed out on the street and toward the
post office building. Ralph mingled with the crowd. It was not long before
the truth of the matter was revealed. The post office safe had been blown
open and robbed.




CHAPTER XVIII.

ABOUT A POCKET-KNIFE.


Ralph was as much interested as any one else in the fact that the Westville
post office had been robbed. He mingled with the crowd in his eagerness to
learn the particulars.

But, being a boy, he was pushed aside by the men, and no attention was paid
to the story he had to tell about the two men and the boy he had seen
running away.

Then the thought of his mother suffering at home rushed into Ralph's mind.
What would she think of his long absence?

"Robbery or no robbery, I must go to the doctor's, and get back home as
fast as I can," he said to himself.

And five minutes after the excitement began he was once more on his way to
Dr. Foley's residence.

When he reached the physician's place it was several minutes before he
could arouse the doctor and make him understand what was wanted. Then it
took ten minutes more for the doctor to fix up a plaster and some medicine.

Ralph had lost so much time that, although he wished to learn more of the
robbery, he decided to go home by a short cut across the fields instead of
by the village streets.

He set out on a run through the darkness. He knew the path well, and did
not mind the rough places which had to be crossed or the spots where the
bushes grew thickly.

When he reached the little woods just in front of the house he fancied he
heard a footstep near at hand. He stopped short, wondering what it could
be.

"There can't be any animals about," he thought. "Perhaps it's Luke
Jackson's dog--he comes about here occasionally."

He heard the steps again, coming from toward the cottage. Then, before he
could locate them closely, they ceased altogether.

"Tige! Tige!" he called, for that was the name of the dog to which he had
referred.

No answer came back, nor did any dog put in an appearance. Ralph waited a
few seconds longer, and then made straight for the house.

He found his mother sitting in the kitchen, nursing her pain as best she
could.

"You have been quite long, Ralph," she said. "Or else it is my pain makes
the time seem longer."

"I lost a little time at the post office, mother."

"At the post office! Why, what were you doing there at this time of night?"

"The safe has been blown open and robbed. It happened just as I came
along."

"You don't say! Did you learn the particulars?"

"I did not wait for that. There was a crowd gathering, and everybody was as
excited as could be. But I think I saw the robbers."

"You did?"

"I saw two men and a boy running, and each had a satchel."

"That was certainly suspicious," returned Mrs. Nelson. She was in too much
pain to say more just then, and set about making use of the things Ralph
had brought from the doctor's. Fortunately, these did her much good, and
inside of half an hour she was considerably better.

"I thought I heard you coming a quarter of an hour before you did,"
remarked Mrs. Nelson, presently. "I certainly heard somebody walking in the
dooryard."

Ralph was interested at once.

"I heard footsteps, too," he said. "Somebody must have been prowling about.
Who could it have been?"

"Perhaps the post office robbers," suggested Mrs. Nelson, somewhat
nervously.

"I don't see what they would be doing about here," rejoined Ralph,
seriously.

"Did they come in this direction?"

"They came down the main street, yes."

Mrs. Nelson sighed deeply. She did not like the idea of any one prowling
about her home after dark.

"I am going to take a look around again," said Ralph, noticing her
uneasiness. "Perhaps it was a sneak-thief who has stolen the ax or the saw
from the woodshed."

Ralph walked outside. It was now growing lighter in the east, for it was
after four o'clock in the morning. He looked about the woodshed and the
cottage, but everything appeared to be all right. Certainly nothing had
been stolen.

The boy was about to return to the kitchen, when he heard several men
coming down the road from the village. He halted in the dooryard to see who
they were.

"There is somebody now!" one of the men exclaimed, and Ralph recognized
Uriah Dick's voice.

"It is Ralph Nelson himself," replied Bart Haycock, the blacksmith, who was
one of the party.

"Hallo, there, Nelson!" called out the third man. It was Jack Rodman, the
district constable.

"Hallo, Rodman!" returned the boy, as he ran down to the gate. "Are you
after the post office robbers?"

"I guess we are that," put in Uriah Dicks. "An' we ain't far from one of
'em!"

"Hush!" put in Jack Rodman, hastily. "Wait till I have a talk with the
boy."

"It ain't no use for to talk," insisted Uriah. "There's the evidence plain
enough."

"There may be a mistake," suggested Bart Haycock. "I cannot believe Ralph
would do anything wrong."

"Why, what--what do you mean?" stammered the boy, hardly catching the drift
of their talk.

"Is this your knife, Ralph?" asked the constable, producing a buck-handle
pocketknife.

"Why, yes, it is," returned Ralph, promptly. "Where did you get it?" he
went on, in surprise, for he had thought the blade safe in his own pocket.

"Jess where you dropped it a couple of hours ago," returned Uriah Dicks,
eagerly. "In the post office."

"The post office? I haven't been in the post office since yesterday."

"What are you doing out so early in the morning?" asked the constable.

"My mother is sick, and I have been over to Dr. Foley's for medicine for
her."

"And you weren't near the post office?"

"Oh, yes, I was only a few hundred feet away when the explosion took
place."

"There, didn't I say I saw him in the crowd?" exclaimed Uriah, eagerly.

"What were you doing in the crowd?"

"I wanted to see what was up."

"You didn't stay very long," said the constable, dryly.

"I couldn't. Mother was waiting for me."

"You are quite sure you weren't in the post office just before the
explosion occurred?"

"Why, of course I wasn't in the place! What are you driving at?"

"We found the pocketknife in the building--found it not ten feet from the
wrecked safe. It had been used, evidently, for ripping open some sealed
packages."

"My knife!" ejaculated Ralph.

"Exactly, Ralph," put in Bart Haycock. "But don't think I believe you
guilty, my boy," he went on, feelingly.

"Guilty of what?"

"Robbin' the post office!" cried Uriah Dicks. "He is guilty to my way of
thinkin'!"

"Robbing the post office!" ejaculated Ralph.

"That's it, Ralph," said the constable, seriously. "It has been discovered
that there were two men and a boy, and they think you were the boy."

"Me!" Ralph could hardly believe his ears. "Oh, Rodman, you don't mean it?"

"He does mean it!" said Uriah, sharply. "Wasn't your knife found there?"

"I must have dropped the knife in the office yesterday when I was hanging
up Mr. Dunham's circulars."

"Did you use the knife then?" asked Bart Haycock.

Ralph thought for a moment.

"Yes, I did. The cord was too long, and I remember taking out my knife and
cutting it."

"That wouldn't put the knife inside the postmaster's office," said Uriah.

Ralph looked at the knife again. It was really his--with his name carved on
the handle. There was no disputing that point.

"I can't understand it," he said. "But I can give you my word of honor that
I was not inside the building to-night."

"I guess Benjamin Hooker ain't taking your word for it," grumbled Uriah
Dicks. "He is responsible to the Government, an' he's goin' to find out who
robbed him, that's what he's goin' to do!"

"You had better come with me," said Jack Rodman. "You can tell your story
to Mr. Hooker and to Squire Paget."

"Better make a search around here first," suggested Uriah. "The men that
helped do the robbin' may be hiding here. Bart and I can hold Ralph so he
don't run away."




CHAPTER XIX.

ABOUT THE ROBBERY.


If Ralph had been astonished before, he was doubly so now. He looked from
one to another of the men in amazement.

"Do you really think I am one of the thieves?" he gasped.

"It's mighty suspicious," responded Jack Rodman. "You were seen in the
neighborhood of the post office to-night, and then this knife business is a
clew."

"I don't think Ralph will run away," said Bart Haycock. "I myself think he
is innocent."

"Thank you for those words," said the boy. "I am innocent."

"Then you have no objections to our making a search about here," said the
constable.

"Not any objection whatever," said Ralph, promptly. "Search where you
please."

"I'll help you," said Uriah to the constable.

"Hadn't you better hold me tight?" suggested Ralph, with a sarcasm which
was entirely lost on the miserly storekeeper.

"Well, I dunno," hesitated Uriah.

"I will see to it that he doesn't run away," said the blacksmith. "This
makes me sick, Ralph," he added, in a low tone. "I know you are as
innocent as a babe. That post office was robbed by professionals."

The constable and Uriah knocked on the cottage door and Mrs. Nelson let
them in. She was greatly surprised when Jack Rodman declared his errand.

"Ralph is indeed innocent!" she exclaimed. "You may search the premises all
you please."

The constable and Uriah took a lamp, and the search began. Every nook and
corner of the cottage was gone over, but nothing that looked like what had
been taken--money and registered letters--came to light.

"I hope you are satisfied now," said Mrs. Nelson, in a tone of
half-triumph. "Ralph hasn't a grain of dishonesty in him."

"Let's take a look outside," suggested Uriah. "Maybe he knew better than to
bring it in the house."

So outside he and the constable went. They looked around under the stoops
and around the woodshed.

"Not a thing," murmured Jack Rodman.

Uriah did not reply to this. His sharp eyes had caught sight of a leather
bag, half-concealed under a clump of raspberry bushes. He ran forward and
dragged the bag out.

"Look here!" he cried. "What did I tell you?"

"A leather valise, true enough!" exclaimed the constable. "But it may be
one belonging to the family."

"Would they leave a good valise out under them bushes?" growled Uriah. "Not
much!"

"I shouldn't think they would."

"And, besides, this looks like the one Benjamin Hooker kept in the post
office for his trips to the Chambersburgh Bank."

The constable began to examine the bag. Soon he ran across a tag inside,
upon which was printed in ink:

  Property of Benjamin Hooker,
  Postmaster, Westville.

"That settles it," he said, in a harder tone than he had before employed.

"I guess it looks black enough against Ralph Nelson now," said Uriah.

"So it does."

"I positively know nothing of that bag," cried Ralph, when confronted with
it. "I never saw it before."

"You will have to go with me," returned Jack Rodman.

"Do you place me under arrest?" ejaculated Ralph.

"Hardly that. But you must go with me to the post office. There we will see
what Mr. Hooker has to say. It is his affair--and the Government's."

"Oh, Ralph!" cried Mrs. Nelson, in alarm. "They think you are really one of
the robbers!"

"I know it, mother. But I am not, and I do not see how they can hold me."

"You won't go along?" asked Uriah, quickly.

"Oh, yes, I will. I am not afraid of the consequences."

It was now drawing toward daylight, and after completing his hastily-made
toilet, Ralph accompanied the constable and the others to the Westville
post office.

Here they found all in confusion. The safe doors had been blown open with
gunpowder, and the explosion had damaged the entire office. The plaster
from the ceiling had come down, and this lay over a mass of letters, papers
and wrecked furniture.

In the midst of the mass was the postmaster and his clerk, Henry Bott,
doing what they could to straighten matters out and ascertain the exact
loss sustained.

Squire Paget was also present. He seemed particularly anxious about the
registered letters which had been ready for the morning mail, and groaned
aloud when he heard that all of them had disappeared.

"Not one of them left?" he asked, of Henry Bott. "You don't see anything of
the one I addressed to New York?"

"No, squire; all have disappeared together," replied the clerk.

"Too bad! That letter was worth a small fortune to me."

"What did it contain?" asked the clerk.

The squire did not answer, but walked away in deep perplexity.

There was an additional excitement when Ralph was brought in by Jack
Rodman. Soon it became whispered about that the boy was one of the robbers.

"Who is it?" questioned several.

"Easy to see that. It's Ralph Nelson."

"Say, is he really guilty, do you think?"

"That's what Uriah Dicks says."

"Rather guess Uriah is mistaken."

"And that's what I think. Uriah is down on the boy."

"That's so. Ralph is honest enough."

"Eddy Harmes saw Ralph around the post office."

"Maybe he is mistaken."

"Eddy is willing to swear to it."

"Yes, I saw him," said Eddy Harmes, a teamster.

"Eddy was driving over to the Eastport market for garden truck."

"Randolph Newell saw him, too," put in another in the crowd. "Saw him not
over five minutes after the explosion."

And so the talk ran on, while Ralph was taken inside of the building, there
to be examined by Postmaster Hooker and Squire Paget.

The squire grew pale when he heard what Jack Rodman had to say.

"Didn't you find any--any registered letters?" he asked of the constable.

"Only found the valise, sir."

"But that's enough," put in Uriah Dicks. "That and the knife clew."

"Seems to me you are mighty anxious to have the boy found guilty," cried
Bart Haycock, angrily. "What makes you so down on the boy?"

"He is down on me because we have stopped trading with him, and because I
won't work for him for starvation wages," retorted Ralph. "He is a mean
skinflint, and half the village knows it."

"Wha--what!" spluttered Uriah. "This--to me?"

"Yes, to you," cried Ralph, boldly. "Now, don't say any more or it may be
the worse for you. I don't see why folks shouldn't believe you were one of
the men who robbed the post office."

"Well, I never!" gasped Uriah. "Ain't he thoroughly bad, though? Next thing
he'll be settin' my barn on fire."

"Unless you do it yourself for the insurance," put in a voice in the rear
of the crowd, and then there was a laugh that made Uriah furious.

But he knew that many could tell things to his disadvantage should they
choose to speak, so he sneaked out of sight without making any reply to his
tormentors.

No time was lost by the postmaster and Squire Paget in listening to what
Jack Rodman had to say. Then Mr. Hooker turned to Ralph.

"Nelson, what have you to say in answer to this?"

"Simply that I am innocent, Mr. Hooker. I believe that there was a boy
mixed up in this affair, but that boy was not myself."

Then Ralph was called on to tell his story, which he did in a
straightforward manner. After this he was severely cross-questioned.

"I can't understand about that valise and knife," mused Benjamin Hooker.
"If you left the knife in the outer office, how did it get inside?"

"That I cannot answer, sir. Perhaps somebody saw it outside and carried it
in."

"There was nobody in the office yesterday except Henry Bott and myself."

"Well, I cannot explain it. But, as I said before, I am innocent."




CHAPTER XX.

OUT ON BAIL.


"Did you get a look at the faces of the men and the boy you say you saw?"
asked the postmaster, after a pause.

"No, sir. I saw them, but it was too dark to distinguish faces."

"And you say each carried a handbag?"

"Yes, sir."

"Can you prove that you were not around the post office at the time of the
explosion?"

"I cannot, sir. I was just coming from home to go to Dr. Foley's, for my
mother, who was taken sick during the night."

"And you went to Dr. Foley's afterward?"

"Yes, sir. He will tell you the same thing."

"What of the valise found in your back doorward?"

"I know nothing of it, excepting that both my mother and I fancied we heard
somebody around the house just a short while before the constable and the
others came."

Postmaster Hooker turned to Squire Paget.

"What do you think of this, squire?" he asked.

"Very queer," responded the squire, briefly. "I think you had better have
him held until we can investigate further. Remember, we have not heard from
the other parties who went out yet."

[Illustration: "Here they found all in confusion." See page 122.]

"Yes, we'll have to hold you, Nelson," said Mr. Hooker. "It's too bad, if
you are innocent, but it can't be helped."

"Do you mean to say you will lock me up?" exclaimed Ralph, in horror.

"We'll have to--for a while--unless you can furnish satisfactory bail."

"How much bail do you wish?" asked the boy, faintly.

A consultation was held between the postmaster and Squire Paget, and
finally bail was fixed at three hundred dollars.

"That will hold him tight enough," whispered the squire. "No one will go
bail to that amount for him."

But Squire Paget was mistaken. While Ralph was being taken to the village
lockup, a gentleman stepped up. In him Ralph recognized Mr. Leander
Carrington, Julia Carrington's father.

"I will go that boy's bail," said the rich man.

"You, Carrington!" cried the squire, in some astonishment.

"Yes."

"You are running a mighty big risk," sniffed the squire.

"I reckon I can stand it," laughed Leander Carrington. "I do not believe
the boy is guilty."

"I do."

"Besides, he did my wife and daughter a service that I shall ever
remember," went on Mr. Carrington, warmly. "He stopped my team when your
son let them run away from him."

The squire did not relish this remark, and he turned away with some saying
on his lips to the effect that if a man wanted to make a fool of himself,
why, it was a free country.

"You are very kind, Mr. Carrington," said Ralph to the gentleman. "I did
not expect this."

"It's all right. I don't expect you'll run away."

"You can rest assured that I will not."

"So I won't be anything out of pocket. And let me thank you personally for
what you did for my wife and daughter. I just heard of it, as I have been
away."

The party walked over to Squire Paget's office and here the necessary
papers were made out and signed. The squire wished to put off the question
of bail until more news should come in, but he had once fixed the amount,
and Mr. Carrington would not let him go back on his word.

It was nearly nine o'clock when Ralph returned home and told his mother of
all that had happened. A dozen men were out hunting for the robbers, but no
news concerning them had yet come in.

"It was kind of Mr. Carrington to go your bail," said Mrs. Nelson.

"It was, indeed, mother. Now, I only hope they catch the robbers. Then I
will easily be able to clear myself."

Breakfast was on the table, and the two sat down. While they ate Ralph
revolved the question of the robbers in his mind, and set to thinking of
one who might have accomplished it.

"By Christopher Columbus!" he cried, suddenly, leaping from his chair in
his intense excitement. "He did it, I'll bet a million dollars!"

"Why, Ralph, what's the matter?" exclaimed Mrs. Nelson, half-believing her
son had suddenly gone crazy.

"I know one of the men who robbed the post office, mother--at least, I
think I do," he added, cooling down somewhat.

"And who is it?"

"Dock Brady."

"Dock Brady? I never heard of him before."

"He is the man I rescued from the hay barge during the storm."

"Oh, I remember now. But what makes you think he is one of the men?"

"Because I remember he asked me something about the post office while we
were out sailing. Then I saw him sneaking about the place when I was
putting up circulars there. And that is not all. I saw him buying powder at
Mr. Dunham's store."

"That certainly looks suspicious," returned Mrs. Nelson. "It's a pity you
didn't think to tell Mr. Hooker of this."

"I was too excited to remember it. I'll go off right after breakfast and
let him know."

Ralph was as good as his word. Half an hour later the postmaster was in
possession of all the facts. Then a call was made upon Mr. Dunham, who
stated that he remembered Dock Brady very well.

It was thought by the constable and the postmaster that Ralph was right,
and an extra party was organized to hunt for Dock Brady.

The information was gained before nightfall that Brady and a man named
Gaston had been stopping at a second-rate hotel in Eastport for two days.
They had settled their bills the evening before and left, stating that they
were going to Chambersburgh on the night boat.

On the following morning the captain of the night boat was seen, and he
emphatically denied that he had had any such passengers as Dock Brady and
Gaston. He had had only seven men on board, and all of these had been known
to him.

"I guess Ralph Nelson tells the truth," said Jack Rodman. "Those men did
the job, and now the old Harry only knows where they have gone to."

"But the boy?" said Squire Paget. "Who was the boy that helped them if it
wasn't Ralph Nelson?"

"I give it up, squire," said the constable; and so did many others.

There being nothing else to do, Ralph went back to his work of distributing
circulars for Mr. Dunham. He spent three days at this, and was then called
upon to stand an investigation before the United States postal authorities.

This investigation lasted one whole day, and every one who was interested
in the case was present.

Ralph answered all questions clearly and truthfully, and told all he knew
concerning Dock Brady.

Whether the Government detectives found any more clews at the post office
was not made public, but the next day Ralph was informed that his bail was
withdrawn, and that he was absolutely free.

The reader can well imagine his joy, and also the joy of his mother, who
shed tears when the news was brought to her.

"Thank Heaven for it, Ralph!" she said, as she kissed him. "Oh, what a
relief now it is all over."

"But it is not over," he said, sturdily. "I want to find out the secret of
that valise, and how my pocketknife got into the office, and I shall not
rest until I have found out."

Although the boy and his fond parent did not know it, this remark was
overheard by a detective who had been sent to the Nelson homestead to spy
upon the boy. He at once left the place and informed his superior that the
lad was innocent, and to watch further in that direction would be merely a
waste of time.

But although the majority of the people in Westville and vicinity believed
Ralph innocent, there were some who thought him guilty, and among these was
Squire Paget.

And thinking him guilty, the squire was much worried.

"I'd give a good deal to know if that registered letter fell into his
hands," he said to himself, one night, as he sat in his library. "Perhaps
he got it and is waiting for this affair to blow over before he makes it
public."

And then he groaned aloud, and began to pace up and down nervously. It was
plain to see that he was more put out than he had been for years.