"I don't think he would dare do me any bodily injury," I replied. "He
would know I had told some one where I was going, and that my absence
would be noticed."

"If you go, take me in tow," said my uncle. "I needn't go in with you,
but I can hang around outside, and if anything goes wrong, all you've
got to do is to holler like all creation, and I'll come to the
rescue."

"Oh, if Roger runs any risk, I'd rather he wouldn't go," exclaimed
Kate, in alarm.

"I don't think the risk is very great," I returned. "Besides, I may
find the missing statement. That is worth trying for."

"I shall be in dread until you return," she replied, with a grave
shake of her head.

"When will you start?" asked Uncle Enos.

"About half past eight. It won't take over half an hour to reach his
house."

We continued to discuss Mr. Woodward for some time, and also the
action of the Models and what I should do on their score. My Uncle
Enos was for prosecuting them, but the Widow Canby said that the
future would bring its own punishment, and on this we rested.

"And now about my board," began Uncle Enos, during a dull in the
conversation. "I must find a boarding-house for after to-night."

"Wouldn't you like to stay with the children?" asked Mrs. Canby.

"Yes, ma'am; indeed I would. To tell the truth, it's my intention
sooner or later to offer them a home with me."

"I should hate to have them leave me," returned the widow, quickly.

"I suppose so."

"How would you like to board with me? As I have said, there is lots of
room, and you have just eaten a sample meal. We do not live in style--
but--"

"Plenty good enough style," interrupted Captain Enos, "and better grub
then we had on the Hattie Baker, I'll be bound. I'd like it first rate
here if the terms wasn't too high."

"What do you think fair?"

"I'm sure I don't know, ma'am. I haven't paid a week's board in three
years."

"Would five dollars a week be too much?"

"No, ma'am. Are you sure it's enough? I don't want to crowd your
hospitality."

"I'd be satisfied with five dollars. Of course boarders are out of my
line, but there are exceptions to all cases. Besides, I'll feel safer
with another man about the house. No reflection on you, Roger, but you
won't always be here together."

"No, ma'am," replied my uncle. "I must visit my brother-in-law at the
prison-- that will take several days."

"Will you take me with you?" asked Kate, eagerly.

"Certainly, and you, too, Roger, if you want to go."

"I would like to very much," was my reply. "But I want to ask even a
bigger favor than that, Uncle Enos."

"Yes?"

"Yes, sir. You may think it a good deal, but you've been so kind, and
I haven't any one else to go to."

"Well, what is it, my boy? I'll do it if I can."

"Lend me about fifty dollars."

My Uncle Enos raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Fifty dollars?" he repeated.

"Yes, sir. That is, if you can spare it. I'll promise to pay it back
some day."

"And what do you intend to do with it?"

"I want to go to Chicago, sir."

"To Chicago?"

All three of my listeners repeated the words in chorus; then Captain
Enos continued:--

"And what are you going to do there?"

"I want to hunt up this Holtzmann, and find out what he knows about my
father's affairs. I'm satisfied that he is as deep in it as Mr.
Woodward or John Stumpy, and if I can only by some means get him to
tell what he knows, I may accomplish a good deal."

My Uncle Enos put his hand upon my shoulder; "Well, Roger, you're a
brave boy, and I'll trust you. You shall have fifty dollars, and a
hundred, if you want it, to do as you think best. Only don't get into
trouble."

"Thank you Uncle Enos, thank you!" I cried heartily. "Some day I'll
pay you back."

"I don't want it back, my lad. If you can catch any proofs that will
help clear your father, I shall be more than satisfied."

"And when shall you go?" asked Kate.

"I don't know. It will depend on my interview with Mr. Woodward and
also on what John Stumpy does. Not inside of several days, at least.
Besides, we want to see father first, you know."

"Of course."

"We can go to Trenton tomorrow," said Uncle Enos. At Trenton was
located the State prison. After consulting a time table printed in the
Darbyville Record, we found we could catch a train for that city at
8.25 from Newville the next morning, and this we decided to take.

Having settled this matter, we returned again to the discussion of the
incidents surrounding the robbery, and what would probably be the next
movements of those fighting against me. Uncle Enos grew greatly
interested, and said he knew a lawyer in New York who might secure
some good private detective who could take the case in hand.

Finally it came half past eight, and putting on my hat, I started for
Mr. Woodward's residence.

  CHAPTER XVIII

 IN MR. WOODWARD'S LIBRARY

Though outwardly calm, I was considerably agitated as I walked to
Darbyville. Why the merchant had sent for me I could not surmise. Of
course it was on account of the robbery, but so far as I knew both of
us had taken a separate stand, and neither would turn back. I thought
it barely possible that he wished to intimidate me into receding from
my position. He was as much of a bully in his way as Duncan, and would
not hesitate to use every means in his power to bring me to terms.

Arriving at Mr. Woodward's house, I ascended the steps and rang the
bell.

"Is Mr. Woodward in?" I asked of the girl who answered the summons.

"I'll see, sir," she replied. "Who shall I say it is?"

"Roger Strong."

The girl left me standing in the hall. While waiting for her return I
could not help but remember the old lines:--

  " 'Will you walk into my parlor?'
     Said the spider to the fly."

But if I was walking into the spider's parlor, it would be my own
fault if I got hurt, for I was entering with my eyes open. I
determined to be on my guard, and take nothing for granted.

"Mr. Woodward will be pleased to see you in his library," said the
girl upon her return, and then, having indicated the door, she
vanished down the back hall.

As I put my hand upon the door-knob, I heard steps upon the stairs,
and looking up saw Duncan Woodward descending.

His face was still swollen from the punishment I had inflicted upon
him. Nevertheless, he was faultlessly dressed in full evening costume,
and I rightly conjectured he was going to spend the night in some
fashionable dissipation such as dancing or card-playing.

"Hello! how did you get in here?" he exclaimed.

"Was let in," was my mild reply, not caring to pick a quarrel with
him.

"Was, eh? And what for, I'd like to know?"

"That's your father's business, Duncan."

"Don't Duncan me any more, Roger Strong. What's my father's business?"

"What I came for. He sent for me."

"Oh, he did. Reckon he's going to square accounts with you."

"I don't know what accounts he's going to square," I went on in
curiosity.

"Didn't you as much as try to intimate he was lying-- down in Judge
Penfold's court this afternoon?"

"I only told what I knew to be the truth," I replied calmly.

"The truth. Humph! I believe you took the widow's money yourself."

"Take care what you're saying," I replied angrily. "I don't propose to
stand any such talk from you."

Duncan grew speechless. "Why, you-- you--" he began.

"Hold up now before you say something that you'll be sorry for. This
is your house, but you have no right to insult me in it."

"Quite right, Strong, quite right." The library door had opened, and
Mr. Woodward stood upon the threshold, gazing sharply at his son.
"Strong is here upon my invitation, Duncan; you ought to treat him
with more politeness," he added.

If Duncan was amazed at this speech, so was I. The merchant taking my
part? What did it mean?

"Why, I-- I--" began Duncan, but he could really get no further.

"No explanation is necessary," interrupted his father, coolly.

"Strong, please step in, will you?"

"Yes, sir," and I suited the action to the word.

As I did so Duncan passed on to the front door.

"I'll get even with you yet, you cad!" he muttered under his breath;
but I paid no attention to his words. I had "bigger fish to fry."

Once inside of Mr. Woodward's library, the merchant closed the door
behind me and then invited me to take a seat beside his desk, at the
same time throwing himself back in his easy chair.

"I suppose you thought it rather singular that I should send for you,"
he said by way of an opening.

"Yes, sir, I did," was all I could reply.

"I thought as much. It was only an impulse of mine, sir, only an
impulse. I wished to see if we cannot arrange this-- this little
difficulty without publicity. I would rather lose a good deal, yes,
sir, a good deal, than have my name dragged into court."

"All I ask is for justice," I replied calmly. "I am under arrest for a
crime of which I am innocent. On the other hand, you are trying to
shield a man I know is guilty."

I expected a storm of indignation from Mr. Woodward because of the
last remark. Yet he showed no sign of resentment.

"Don't you think you might be mistaken in your identification of Mr.
Stumpy?" he replied, and I noticed that again he nearly stumbled in
pronouncing the tramp's name.

"No, sir," I replied promptly.

"Remember that you saw him only by lantern light, and then but for a
few minutes."

"I saw him by daylight as well."

"When?"

"In the morning. He came as a beggar."

"A beggar? Impossible!" The merchant held, up his hands in assumed
amazement. "Why, Strong, the idea of Mr. Stumpy begging is
ridiculous."

"Just the same it is true, Mr. Woodward. And what is more, he is the
thief, and you know it."

"That's a strong assertion to make, sir, a very strong assertion."

"Nevertheless, I believe I can prove my words."

Mr. Woodward turned slightly pale.

"You can prove no such thing," he cried.

"Yes, I can. Didn't Stumpy admit he had taken the money?"

"Never, sir."

"He did."

"When?"

"This afternoon while you were at Decker's place."

Had I slapped the merchant in the face he would not have been more
surprised. He sprang to his feet and glared at me.

"You-- you-- Who says he made such an admission?"

"I say so."

"Ah! I see, you were spying on us. You rascal!"

"It strikes me that you are the rascal," I returned. "You try
deliberately to shield a thief."

"What!"

"Yes, it's true."

"Can you prove it?"

Mr. Woodward asked the question sneeringly, but there was much of
curiosity in his tones.

"Perhaps I can."

The merchant pulled his mustache nervously.

"Strong, you are greatly mistaken. But don't let us quarrel any more."

"I don't want to quarrel."

"I feel badly over the whole affair, and Mr. Stumpy is fairly sick. I
suppose you think you are right, but you are mistaken. Now I have a
proposition to make to you." Mr. Woodward leaned forward in his chair.
"Suppose you admit that you are mistaken-- that Mr. Stumpy is not the
man? Do this, and I will not prosecute you for having taken my
papers."

I was surprised and indignant; surprised that Mr. Woodward should
still insist upon my having taken his papers, and indignant because of
his outrageous offer.

"Mr. Woodward," I began firmly, "you can prosecute me or not; Stumpy
is the guilty man, and I shall always stick to it."

"Then you will go to jail, too."

"For the last time let me say I have not seen your papers."

"It is false. You took them from this room last night. At the very
time you pretend you were after the robber at Mrs. Canby's house you
were here ransacking my desk."

"Mr. Woodward--"

"There is no use in denying it. I have abundant proofs. The girl who
cleaned up here this morning found a handkerchief with your name on it
lying on the floor. If you weren't here, how did that come here?"

"My handkerchief?"

"Yes, sir, your handkerchief; and Mary O'Brien can identify it and
tell where she found it."

"Some one else must have had it," I stammered, and then suddenly: "I
know who the party is-- Duncan."

"Duncan!"

"Yes, sir. He took that handkerchief away from me when the Models
waylaid me!"

"My son! Really, Strong, you are mad! But I will take you in hand,
sir; yes, indeed, I will."

"No, you won't, Aaron Woodward!" I cried, for once letting my temper
get the better of me. "You are awfully cunning, but I am not afraid of
you. I am willing to have all these matters sifted to the bottom, and
the sooner the better. What papers have you missed? Were they the ones
that Holtzmann of Chicago is after? How is it that my father is in
prison while you live in style on money you never earned? Who is the
relative that left it to you? Did you ever make a clear statement
concerning the transactions that took away my father's honest name?"

"Stop! Stop!"

"I will not stop! You want an investigation; so do I. Luckily my
uncle, Captain Enos Moss, has just returned from a voyage. He has
quite some money, and I know he will use it to bring the guilty
parties to justice. And then--"

I did not finish. Mr. Woodward had strode over to the door and locked
it, putting the key in his pocket.

"You know too much, Strong," he muttered between his set teeth, as he
caught me by the collar; "too much entirely. We must come to a
settlement before you leave this room."

  CHAPTER XIX

 A CLEVER RUSE

I must confess I was frightened when Mr. Woodward locked the door of
his library and caught me by the collar. Was it possible that he
contemplated doing me physical harm? It looked that way.

I was not accustomed to such rough treatment, and I resented it
instantly. I was not very large for my age, but I was strong, and
ducking my head I wrenched myself free from his grasp and sprang to
the other side of the small table that stood in the centre of the
room.

"What do you mean by treating me in this manner!" I cried. "Unlock
that door at once!"

"Not much, sir," replied Mr. Woodward, vehemently. "You've made some
remarkable statements, young man, and I demand a clear explanation
before you leave."

"Well, you demand too much, Aaron Woodward," I replied firmly. "Unlock
that door."

"Not just yet. I want to know what you know of Holtzmann of Chicago?"

"You won't learn by treating me in this manner," was my determined
reply. "Unlock that door, or, take my word for it, I'll arouse the
whole neighborhood."

"You'll do nothing of the kind, young man," he rejoined.

"I will."

"Make the least disturbance and you shall pay dearly for it.
Understand, sir, I'm not to be trifled with."

"And I'm not to be frightened into submission," I returned with
spirit. "I have a right to leave when I please and I shall do so."

"Not till I am ready," said he, coolly.

I was nonplussed and alarmed-- nonplussed over the question of how to
get away, and alarmed at the thought of what might happen if I was
compelled to remain.

I began to understand Mr. Aaron Woodward's true character. Like
Duncan, he was not only a bully, but also a brute. Words having
failed, he was now evidently going to see what physical force could
accomplish.

"Forewarned is forearmed" is an old saying, and now I applied it to
myself. In other words, I prepared for an encounter. On the centre
table lay a photograph album. It was thick and heavy and capable of
proving quite a formidable article of defence. I picked it up, and
stepping behind a large easy chair, stood on my guard.

Seeing the action, the merchant paused.

"What are going to do with that?" he asked.

"You'll see if you keep on," I replied. "I don't intend to stand this
much longer. You had better open the door."

"You think you're a brainy boy, Strong," he sneered.

"I've got too much brain to let you ride over me."

"You think you have a case against me and Mr. Stumpy, and you intend
to drag it into court and make a great fuss over it," he went on.

"I'm going to get back my father's honest name."

"What you mean is that you intend to drag my name in the mire," he
stormed.

"You can have it so, if you please."

"I shall not allow it. You, a young upstart!"

"Take care, Mr. Woodward!"

"Do you think I will submit to it?" He glared at me and threw a hasty
glance around the room. "Not much!"

Suddenly he stepped to the windows and pulled down the shades. Then he
took out his watch and looked at the time. I wondered what he was up
to now. I was not long in finding out.

"Listen to me," he said in a low, intense tone, "We are alone in this
house-- you and I-- and will be for half an hour or more. You are in
my power. What will you do? Give up all the papers you possess and
promise to keep silent about what you know or take the consequences."

It would be telling an untruth to say I was not thoroughly startled by
the merchant's sudden change of manner. He was about to assault me,
that was plain to see, and he wished me to understand that no one was
near either to assist me or to bear witness against his dark doings.

I must fight my own battles, not only in a war of words, but also in a
war of blows. I was not afraid after the first shock was over. My
cause was a just one, and I would stand by it, no matter what the
consequences might be.

"I don't fear you, Aaron Woodward," I replied, as steadily as I could.
"I am in the right and shall stick up for it, no matter what comes."

"You defy me?" he cried in a rage.

"Yes, I do."

I had hardly uttered the words before he caught up a heavy cane
standing beside his desk and made for me. There was a wicked
determination in his eyes, and I could see that all the evil passions
within him were aroused.

"We'll see who is master here," he went on.

"Stand back!" I cried. "Don't come a step nearer! If you do, you'll be
sorry for it!"

He paid no attention to my warning, but kept on advancing, raising the
cane over his head as he did so.

When he was within three feet of me he aimed a blow at my head. Had he
hit me, I am certain he would have cracked my skull open.

But I was too quick for him, I dodged, and the cane struck the back of
the chair.

Before he could recover from his onslaught I hurled the album at him
with all force. It struck him full in the face, and must have loosened
several of his teeth, for he put his hand up to his mouth as he reeled
over backward.

I was not astonished. I had accomplished just what I had set out to
do. My one thought now was to make my escape. How was it to be done?

The key to the door was in the merchant's pocket, and this I could,
not obtain. The windows were closed, and the blinds drawn down.

I had but an instant to think. Spluttering to himself, my assailant
was endeavoring to rise to his feet.

A hasty glance around the room revealed a door partly hidden by a
curtain next the mantelpiece. Where it led to I did not know, but
concluding that any place would be better than to remain in the
library, I tried the door, found it open, and slipped out.

"Stop, stop!" roared Mr. Woodward. "Stop, this instant!"

But I did not stop. I found myself in the dining room, and at once put
the long table between us.

"Don't you come any nearer," I called out sharply. "If you do, it may
be at the cost of your life."

As I spoke I picked up a fancy silver knife that lay on the table. It
had a rough resemblance to a pocket pistol, and gave me the idea of
palming it off as such.

"Would you shoot me?" cried the merchant, in sudden terror, as he saw
what he supposed was the barrel of a revolver pointed at his head.

"Why shouldn't I?" was the reply. "You have no right to detain me."

"I don't want to detain you. I only want to come to a settlement," he
returned lamely.

"And I want nothing more to do with you. I'll give you one minute to
show me the way to the front door."

"Yes, but, Strong--"

"No more talk, if you please. Do you intend to show me the way out, or
shall I fire?"

Then Mr. Aaron Woodward showed what a coward he really was. He gave a
cry of horror and sank completely out of sight.

"Don't shoot, Strong. I pray you, take care. I'll show you the way
out, indeed I will!"

"Well, hurry about it. I don't intend to stand any more nonsense."

"Here, this way. Please stop pointing that pistol at me; it might go
off, you know."

"Then the sooner you show me the way out, the better for you," I
returned coolly, inwardly amused at his sudden change of manner

"This way, then. I-- I trust you will keep this-- this little meeting
of ours a secret."

"Why should I?"

"Because it-- it would do no good to have it made public."

"I'll see about it," was my reply.

By this time we had reached the front door, and with unwilling hands
the merchant opened it.

"Now stand aside and let me pass," I commanded.

"I will. But, Strong--"

"No more words are needed," I returned. "I have had enough of you, Mr.
Aaron Woodward. The next time you hear from me it will be in quite a
different shape."

"What do you mean?" he cried, in sudden alarm.

"You will find out soon enough. In the meantime let me return your
fancy knife. I have no further use for it."

I tossed the article over. He looked at it and then at me. Clearly he
was mad enough to "chew me up." Bidding him a mocking good night, I
ran down the steps and hurried away.

  CHAPTER XX

 AT THE PRISON

Mr. Woodward's actions had aroused me as I had never been aroused
before. My eyes were wide open at last. I realized that if I ever
expected to gain our family rights I must fight for them-- and fight
unflinchingly to the bitter end.

It was nearly ten o'clock when I reached the Widow Canby's house. I
met my Uncle Enos on the porch. He had grown impatient, and was about
to start for Darbyville in search of me.

In the dining room I told my story. All laughed heartily at the ruse I
had played upon the merchant, but were indignant at the treatment I
had received.

"Wish I'd been with you," remarked my uncle, with a vigorous shake of
his head. "I'd a-smashed in his figurehead, keelhaul me if I
wouldn't!"

"What do you intend to do now?" asked Kate.

"Let's see; to-day is Friday. If you will take us to Trenton
to-morrow, Uncle Enos, I'll start for Chicago on Monday."

"Don't you think you had better have this Woodward arrested first?"
asked Captain Enos.

"No; I would rather let him think that for the present I had dropped
the whole matter. It may throw him off his guard and enable me to pick
up more clews against him."

"That's an idea. Roger, you've got a level head on your shoulders, and
we can't do any better than follow your advice," returned my uncle.

I did but little sleeping that night. For a long time I lay awake
thinking over my future actions. Then when I did fall into a doze my
rest was broken by dreams of the fire at the tool house and Mr.
Woodward's attack.

I was up at five o'clock in the morning, attending to the regular
chores. I did not know who would do them during my absence, and as
soon as the widow appeared I spoke to her on the subject.

"Your uncle mentioned the matter last night," said Mrs. Canby. "He
said he would do all that was required until you came back. He doesn't
want to remain idle all day, and thought the work would just suit
him."

This was kind of Uncle Enos, and I told him so when an hour later he
appeared, dressed in his best, his trunk having arrived the evening
before.

"Yes, Roger, I'd rather do it than sit twirling my thumbs, a-waiting
for you to come back," said he. "I used to do such work years ago,
before I shipped on the Anna Siegel, and to do it again will make me
feel like a boy once more. But come; let's go to mess and then hoist
anchor and away."

A few minutes later we were at breakfast. Then I put on my good
clothes and brought around the horse and carriage, for the Widow Canby
insisted upon driving us down to Newville by way of Darbyville just to
show folks, as she said, that she had not lost confidence in me.

Kate was in a flutter of excitement. She had wished to see my father
every day since he had been taken away. As for myself, I was fully as
impatient. My father was very dear to me, and every time I thought of
him I prayed that God would place it within my power to clear his name
from the stain that now rested upon him.

We reached the station in Newville five minutes before train time. My
uncle procured our tickets and also checked the basket of delicacies
the Widow Canby had prepared.

"Remember me to Mr. Strong," said the widow, as we boarded the train.
"Tell him I don't believe he's guilty, and perhaps other people in
Darbyville won't think so either before long."

A moment later and we were off. Kate and Uncle Enos occupied one seat,
and I sat directly behind them. A ride of an hour followed, and
finally, after crossing a number of other railroads, we rolled into a
brick station, and the conductor sang out:--

"Trenton!"

It was eleven o'clock when we crossed the wooden foot-bridge of the
station and emerged upon the street.

"We'll go to the prison at once," said my uncle. "Perhaps it isn't
'visiting day,' as they call it, but I reckon I can fix it. Sailors on
shore have special privileges," he added with a laugh.

"Which way is it?" asked Kate.

"I don't know. We'll take a carriage and trust to the driver."

He called a coach, and soon we were rolling off.

Finally the coach stopped, and the driver sprang from his box.

"Here you are, sir," he said, as he opened the door.

I looked up at the big stone buildings before us. My father was behind
those walls. I glanced at Kate. The poor girl was in tears.

"You had better stay on board here till I go in and take soundings,"
said Captain Enos. "I won't be gone long."

Jumping to the pavement, he walked up to the big open door and
entered.

"What a dreadful place!" said my sister, as she strained her eyes to
catch sight of some prisoner.

My uncle was gone not over ten minutes, yet the wait seemed an age. He
returned with a brightened face.

"I had hard work to get permission, but we are to have half an hour's
talk with your father under the supervision of a deputy," he
explained.

In another moment we were inside. We walked along a wide corridor and
into an office, and then a short, stout man, Mr. Carr, the deputy,
joined us.

"This way, please," he said, and gave a kindly glance at Kate and
myself. "You will have to leave the basket here. I will see that it
reaches the-- the-- your father."

He led the way. How my heart beat! Why, I cannot tell.

"I'll go in first," said my Uncle Enos.

We entered a room. In a moment the deputy brought in a man dressed in
striped clothing, and with his hair cut close. It was my father.

My uncle and I rushed forward. But we were too late. With a cry Kate
was in his arms. It was a great moment all around.

"My children! My Katie and my Roger!" was all my father could say, but
the words went straight home.

"I am heartily glad that you are back," he said then to my uncle. "You
will look after them, Enos, until I am free."

"Indeed I will," replied Captain Enos, heartily. "But you must listen
to Roger. He has a long story to tell."

"Then tell it. I am dying to hear news from home." We sat down, and I
told my story. Perhaps the deputy ought not to have allowed me to say
all I did, but he pretended not to hear.

My father listened with keen attention to every word, and as I went
on, his eyes grew brighter and brighter.

"Roger, my faithful boy, you almost make me hope for freedom," he
cried. "Oh, how I long to be set right before the world!"

"God make it so," put in my uncle, solemnly. "To suffer unjustly is
terrible."

Then I told of my interview with Mr. Woodward in his library and of
Holtzmann.

"Holtzmann was one of the principal witnesses against me," said my
father. "So was Nicholas Weaver, who managed the Brooklyn business for
Holland & Mack. Who John Stumpy can be I do not know. Perhaps I would
if I saw him face to face. There was another man-- he was quite bald,
with a red blotch on the front of his hand-- who was brought forward
by Woodward to prove that he had nothing to do with the presentation
of the forged checks and notes, but what his name was I have
forgotten."

"This can't be the man, for he has a heavy head of hair," I replied.
"But I am sure Stumpy is not his true name."

"Probably not. Well, Roger, do your best, not only for me but for
Katie's sake and your own."

Then the conversation became general, and all too soon the half hour
was at an end. My father sent his regards to Mrs. Canby, with many
thanks for the basket of delicacies, and then with a kiss for Kate and
a shake of the hand to Uncle Enos and me, we parted.

Little was said on the way back. No one cared to go to a restaurant,
and we took the first train homeward.

It was dark when we reached Newville. The Widow Canby's carriage was
at the depot waiting for us.

"Suppose I get my ticket for Chicago now," said I. "It will save time
Monday, and I can find out all about the train."

"A good idea," returned my uncle. "I'll go with you."

So while Kate joined Mrs. Canby we entered the depot.

The ticket was soon in my possession, and then I asked the ticket
seller a number of questions concerning the route and the time I would
reach my destination.

Suddenly instinct prompted me to turn quickly. I did so and found John
Stumpy at my shoulder.

  CHAPTER XXI

 A MIDNIGHT ADVENTURE

Mr. John Stumpy had evidently been watching my proceedings closely,
for when I turned to him he was quite startled. However, it did not
take him long to recover, and then, bracing up, he hurried away
without a word.

He was now neatly dressed and had had his face shaved. I conjectured
that Mr. Woodward had advised this change in order to more fully carry
out the deception in relation to the tramp's real character.

"There's that Stumpy," I whispered to Captain Enos, as I pointed my
finger at the man. "He has been watching us."

"How do you know?" asked my uncle.

"Because he was just looking over my shoulder," I replied. "Shall I
speak to him? I'd like to know what he intends to do next."

"It won't do any good. It ain't likely he'd tell you anything, and if
he did, it wouldn't be the truth."

"Maybe it might."

"Well, do as you think best, Roger, only don't be too long-- the widow
and Kate are waiting, you know."

Pushing through the crowd, I tapped Stumpy on the shoulder. He looked
around in assumed surprise.

"Hullo!" he exclaimed sharply. "What do you want?"

"Nothing much," I returned. "I just saw you were greatly interested in
what I was doing."

"Why, I didn't see you before."

"You were just looking over my shoulder."

"You're mistaken, young man, just as you are in several other things."

"I'm not mistaken in several other things."

"What do you intend to do?" he asked curiously.

"That's my business."

"Where have you been?"

"That is my business also."

"Strong, you're a fool," he whispered. "Do you think you can hurt men
like Mr. Woodward and myself?"

"I can bring you to justice."

"Bah! I suppose you think you can do wonders by going to Chicago."

"How do you know I am going to Chicago?" I questioned quickly.

Stumpy's face fell, as he realized the slip he had made.

"Never mind. But you won't gain anything," he went on. "Better stay
home and save your money."

And to avoid further talk he pushed his way through the crowd and was
lost to sight.

A moment later I joined the others in the carriage. While driving home
I related the conversation recorded above.

"It's too bad he found out you were going to Chicago," said my uncle.
"He may try to stop you."

"I'll keep my eyes open," I replied.

The remainder of the day was spent in active work around the widow's
place. Not only did I labor all the afternoon, but far into the
evening as well, to show that I did not intend to shirk my duty even
though I was going away. Besides, Mrs. Canby had treated me so well
that I was almost willing to work my fingers to the bone to serve her.

The following day was Sunday. Kate and I were in the habit of
attending church and Sunday-school over in Darbyville, but we shrank
from doing so now. But Uncle Enos and I went to church, and despite
the many curious eyes levelled at me, I managed to give attention to
an excellent sermon. I noticed that the Woodward pew was empty, but
then this was of common occurrence and excited no comment.

On Sunday evening my handbag stood in my room packed, ready for my
departure. Dick Blair came over to see me and brought strange and sad
news.

Duncan Woodward and Pultzer, his intimate crony, had gotten into a row
in a pool room down in Newville and were both under arrest. Mr.
Woodward and Mr. Pultzer had gone off to get their sons out of jail.
Dick did not know how the row had started, but had heard that the
young men had been drinking heavily.

I was much shocked at the news, and so were the others. If affairs
kept on like this, Mr. Aaron Woodward would certainly have his hands
full.

I retired early so as to be on hand the next day. Sleep was out of the
question. I had never been a hundred miles away from Darbyville, and
the prospect of leaving filled me with excitement.

I was up long before it was necessary, but found Kate ahead of me.

"You're going to have a good, hot breakfast before you go," she said.
"Sit right down. It's all ready."

Presently, as I was eating, my uncle and Mrs. Canby joined me. They
were full of advice as to what to do and what to avoid, and I listened
to all they had to say attentively.

But all things must come to an end, and at length breakfast was over.
My Uncle Enos and Kate drove me to Newville, and waited till the train
rolled in.

"Good-by, Roger," said Kate. "Please, please, now do keep out of
trouble."

"I will, Kate," I returned, and kissed her. Then I shook hands with my
uncle.

"Keep a clear weather eye and a strong hand at the wheel, Roger, my
boy," he said, "and you'll make port all safe."

"I'll try, Uncle Enos."

A moment more and I was on the cars. Then with an "All aboard" the
conductor gave the signal, and the train moved off.

I passed into the car and took a vacant seat near the centre. I had
hardly sat down before a well-dressed stranger took the seat beside
me.

"Hot day," said he, after he had arranged his bag on the floor beside
my own.

"Yes, it is," I replied, "and dry, too."

"Meanest part of the country I've struck yet," he went on. "Don't have
any such climate as this out West."

"I should think that would depend on where you come from," I returned,
with a short laugh.

"I hail from Chicago. It's hot there, but we get plenty of breeze from
the lakes."

I looked at the man with some attention. He came from the city I
intended to visit, and perhaps he might give me some information.

He was a burly man of middle age, and, as I have said, well dressed,
though a trifle loud. His hair was black, as was also his mustache,
which he continually kept smoothing down with one hand. I did not like
his looks particularly, nor his tone of voice. They reminded me
strongly of some one, but whom I could not remember.

"You come from Chicago," I said. "I am going there."

"Is that so? Then we can travel together. I like to have some one
going along, don't you?"

I felt like saying that that would depend on who the some one was, but
thinking this would hardly be polite, I returned:--

"I don't know. I've never travelled before."

"No? Well, it's fun at first, but you soon get tired of it. My name is
Allen Price; what is yours?"

"Roger Strong."

"Glad to meet you." He extended his hand. "You're rather young to be
travelling alone-- that is, going a distance. Do you smoke? We'll go
into the smoker and take it easy. I have some prime cigars."

"Thank you, I don't smoke."

"That's too bad. Nothing like a good cigar to quiet a man's nerves
when he's riding. So you're going to Chicago? On a visit?"

"No, sir; on business."

"Yes? Rather young for business-- excuse me for saying so."

"It is a personal business."

"Oh, I see. Going to claim a dead uncle's property or something like
that, I suppose. Ha! ha! well, I wish you luck."

Mr. Allen Price rattled on in this fashion for some time, and at
length I grew interested in the man in spite of myself. I was positive
I had seen him before, but where I could not tell. I asked him if he
had ever been to Darbyville.

"Never heard of the place," he replied. "Only been in Jersey a month,
and that time was spent principally in Jersey City and Camden. I'm in
the pottery business. Our principal office is in Chicago."

"Do you know much about that city?"

"Lived there all my life."

I was on the point of asking him about Holtzmann, but on second
thought decided to remain silent.

On and on sped the train, making but few stops. There was a dining-car
attached but I was travelling on a cheap scale, and made my dinner and
supper from the generous lunch the widow had provided.

Mr. Price went to the dining-car and also the smoker. He returned
about nine o'clock in the evening, just as I was falling into a light
doze.

"Thought I'd get a sleeper," he explained. "But they are all full, so
I'll have to snooze beside you here."

His breath smelt strongly of liquor, but I had no right to object, and
he dropped heavily into the seat.

Presently I went sound asleep. How long I slept I do not know. When I
awoke it was with a sharp, stinging sensation in the head. A pungent
odor filled my nose, the scent coming from a handkerchief some one had
thrown over my face.

With a gasp I pulled the handkerchief aside and sat up. Beside me sat
Mr. Allen Price with my handbag on his lap. He had a number of keys in
his hand and was trying to unlock the bag.

  CHAPTER XXII

 A TELEGRAM

I was startled and indignant when I discovered Mr. Allen Price with my
handbag, trying to open it. It looked very much as if my
fellow-passenger was endeavoring to rob me.

I had suspected from the start that this man was not "straight." There
was that peculiar something about his manner which I did not like. He
had been altogether too familiar from the first; too willing to make
himself agreeable.

What he expected to find in my bag I could not imagine. If his mission
was robbery pure and simple, why had he not selected some one who
looked richer than myself? There was, I am certain, nothing about me
to make him believe I had anything of great value in the bag.

"What are you doing with my valise?" I demanded as I straightened up.

My sudden question made the man almost jump to his feet. The bag
dropped from his lap to the floor, and the keys in his hand jingled
after it.

"I-- I-- didn't think you were awake," he stammered.

"You didn't?" I repeated, puzzled as to what to say.

"No-- I-- I--"

"You were trying to open my bag."

"So I was-- but it's all a mistake, I assure you."

"A mistake?"

"Quite a mistake, Strong." He cleared his throat. "The fact is, I'm
suffering so from the toothache that I'm hardly able to judge of what
I'm doing. I thought your bag was my own."

"They are not much alike," I returned bluntly.

"Well, you see mine is a new one, and I'm not used to it yet. I hope
you don't think I was trying to rob you?" he went on, with a look of
reproach.

I was silent. I did think that that was just what he was trying to do,
but I hardly cared to say so.

"It's awful to have such toothaches as I get," he continued, putting
his hand to his cheek. "They come on me unawares, and drive me
frantic. I wanted to get my teeth attended to in Jersey City when I
was there, but I didn't have time."

"What's this on the handkerchief?" I asked.

"Oh, I guess I spilled some of my toothache cure on it," he replied,
after some hesitation. "I used some and then put the bottle back in
the valise. That's how I came to look for the bottle again. I hope
you're not offended. It was all a mistake."

"It's all right if that's the case," I returned coolly.

Holding my valise on my lap, I settled back in the seat again, but not
to sleep. The little adventure had aroused me thoroughly. Mr. Allen
Price sat beside me for a few moments in silence.

"Guess I'll go into the smoker," he said finally, as he rose. "Maybe a
cigar will help me," and taking up his handbag, he walked down the
aisle.

In a dreamy way I meditated over what had occurred. I could not help
but think that the handkerchief I had found spread over my face had
been saturated with chloroform, and that my fellow-passenger had
endeavored to put me in a sound sleep and then rifle my bag. Of course
I might be mistaken, but still I was positive that Mr. Allen Price
would bear watching.

About four o'clock in the morning the train came to a sudden stop. The
jar was so pronounced that it woke nearly all of the passengers.

Thinking that possibly we had arrived at our destination, I raised the
window and peered out.

Instead of being in the heart of a city, however, I soon discovered we
were in a belt of timber land. Huge trees lined the road on both
sides, and ahead I could hear the flowing of a mountain stream.

The train hands were out with their lanterns, and by their movements
it was plain to see that something was up.

I waited in my seat for ten minutes or more, and then as a number of
passengers left the car, I took up my bag and did the same.

A walk to the front of the train soon made known the cause of the
delay. Over a small mountain stream a strong wooden bridge with iron
frame had been built. Near the bridge grew a number of tall trees, and
one of these had been washed loose by the water and overturned in such
a manner that the largest branch blocked the progress of the
locomotive. The strong headlight had revealed the state of affairs to
the engineer, and he had stopped within five feet of the obstruction.
Had he run on, it is impossible to calculate what amount of damage
might have been done.

"Don't see what we are going to do, except to run back to
Smalleyville," said the engineer, who was in consultation with the
conductor.

"Can't we roll the tree out of the way?" asked the latter official.

The engineer shook his head.

"Too heavy. All the men on the train couldn't budge it."

They stood in silence for a moment.

"If you had a rope, you could make the engine haul it," I suggested to
the fireman, who was a young fellow.

"A good idea," he exclaimed, and reported it to his superior.

"First-class plan; but we haven't got the rope," said the engineer.

"Have you got an axe?"

"Yes."

"Then why not chop it off?"

"That's so! Larry, bring the axes."

"It won't do any good," said one of the brakemen who had just come up.
"The bridge has shifted."

An examination proved his assertion to be correct. As soon as this
became known, a danger light was hung at either end of the structure,
and then we started running backward to Smalleyville.

"How long will this delay us?" I asked of the conductor as he came
through, explaining matters.

"I can't tell. Perhaps only a few hours, perhaps more. It depends on
how soon the wrecking gang arrive on the spot. As soon as they get
there, they will go right to work, and it won't take them long to fix
matters up."

Smalleyville proved to be a small town of not over five hundred
inhabitants. There was quite an excitement around the depot when the
train came in, and despatches were sent in various directions.

Presently a shower came up, and this drove the passengers to the cars
and the station. I got aboard the train at first to listen to what the
train hands might have to say. I found one of the brakemen quite a
friendly fellow, and willing to talk.

"This rain will make matters worse," said he. "That tree was leaning
against the bridge for all it was worth, and if it loosens any more it
will carry the thing away clean."

"Isn't there danger of trains coming from the other way?"

"Not now. We've telegraphed to Chicago, and no train will leave till
everything is in running order."

"When does the next train arrive behind us?"

"At 9.30 this morning."

We chatted for quite a while. Then there was a commotion on the
platform, and we found that part of the wrecking gang had arrived on a
hand-car.

They brought with them a great lot of tools, and soon a flat car with
a hoisting machine was run out of a shed, and they were off.

By this time it was raining in torrents, and the station platform was
deserted. Not caring to get wet, I again took my seat in the car, and
presently fell asleep.

When I awoke I found it was six o'clock. The rain still fell steadily,
without signs of abating.

I was decidedly hungry, and buttoning my coat up tightly about my
neck, I sallied forth in search of a restaurant.

I found one within a block of the depot, and entering, I called for
some coffee and muffins-- first, however, assuring myself that my
train was not likely to leave for fully an hour.

While busy with what the waiter had brought, I saw Mr. Allen Price
enter. Luckily the table I sat at was full, and he was compelled to
take a seat some distance from me.

"Good morning, my young friend," said he, as he stopped for an instant
in front of me.

I was surprised at his pleasant manner. He acted as if nothing had
ever happened to bring up a coolness between us.

"Good morning," I replied briefly.

"Terrible rain, this, isn't it?"

"It is."

"My toothache's much better," he went on, "and I feel like myself once
more. Funny I mistook your valise for mine, last night, wasn't it?"

"I don't know," I replied flatly.

I returned to my breakfast, and, seeing I would not converse further,
the man passed on and sat down. But I felt that his eyes were on me,
and instinctively I made up my mind to be on my guard.

As I was about to leave the place, several more passengers came in,
and by what they said I learned that the train would not start for
Chicago till noon, the bridge being so badly damaged that the road
engineer would not let anything cross until it was propped up.

Not caring to go back to the train, I entered the waiting-room and
took in all there was to be seen. At one end of the place was a news
stand, and I walked up to this to look at the picture papers that were
displayed.

I was deeply interested in a cartoon on the middle pages of an
illustrated paper when I heard Mr. Price's voice asking for some
Chicago daily, and then making inquiries as to where the telegraph
once was located.

He did not see me, and I at once stepped out of sight behind him.

Having received his directions, Mr. Price sat down to write out his
telegram. Evidently what he wrote did not satisfy him, for he tore up
several slips of paper before he managed to prepare one that suited
him.

Then he arose, and throwing the scraps in a wad on the floor, walked
away.

Unobserved, I picked up the wad. Right or wrong, I was bound to see
what it contained. Perhaps it might be of no earthly interest to me;
on the other hand, it might contain much I would desire to know.
Strange things had happened lately, and I was prepared for all sorts
of surprises.

A number of the slips of paper were missing and the remainder were so
crumpled that the pencil marks were nearly illegible.

At length I managed to fit one of the sheets together and then read
these words:--

  C. Hholtzmann>, Chicago:

  Look out for a young man claiming to--

  CHAPTER XXIII

 IN CHICAGO

I had not been mistaken in my opinion of Mr. Allen Price. He was
following me, and doing it with no good intention.

I concluded the man must be employed by Mr. Woodward. Perhaps I had
seen him at some time in Darbyville, and so thought his face familiar.

I was glad that if he was a detective I was aware of the fact. I would
now know how to trust him, and I made up my mind that if he got the
best of me it would be my own fault.

One thing struck me quite forcibly. The merchant and John Stumpy both
considered my proposed visit to Chris Holtzmann of importance. They
would not have put themselves to the trouble and expense of hiring
some one to follow me if this was not so. Though Mr. Aaron Woodward
was rich, he was close, and did not spend an extra dollar except upon
himself.

I was chagrined at the thought that Holtzmann would be prepared to
receive me. I had hoped to come upon him unawares, and get into his
confidence before he could realize what I was after.

I began to wonder when the telegram would reach Chicago. Perhaps
something by good fortune might delay it.

Mr. Allen Price walked over to the telegraph office, and following him
with my eyes I saw him pay for the message and then stroll away.

Hardly had he gone before I too stepped up to the counter.

"How long will it take to send a message to Chicago?" I asked of the
clerk in charge.

"Probably till noon," was the reply. "The storm has crippled us, and
we are having trouble with our lineman."

"It won't go before noon!" I repeated, and my heart gave a bound. "Are
you sure?"

"Yes; perhaps even longer."

"How about the message that gentleman just handed in?"

"I told him I would send it as soon as possible,"

"Did you tell him it wouldn't go before noon?"

"No; he didn't ask," returned the clerk, coolly. He was evidently not
going to let any business slip if he could help it.

"Is there any possible way I can get to Chicago before noon?" I went
on.

The clerk shook his head. "I don't think there is," he replied.

"What is the nearest station on the other side of the bridge?"

"Foley."

"And how far is that from Chicago?"

"Twelve miles."

"Thank you."

I walked away from the counter filled with a sudden resolve. I must
reach Chicago before the telegram or Mr. Allen Price. If I did not, my
trip to the city of the lakes would be a failure.

How was the thing to be accomplished? Walking out on the covered
platform, out of sight of the man who was following me, I tried to
solve the problem.

Smalleyville was a good ten miles from the misplaced bridge, and in a
soaking rain such a distance was too far to walk. Perhaps I might get
a carriage to take me to the spot. I supposed the cost would be
several dollars, but decided not to stand on that amount.

I had about made up my mind to hunt up a livery stable, when some
workingmen rolled up to the station on a hand-car.

"Where are you going?" I inquired of one of them.

"Down to the Foley bridge," was the reply,

"Will you take a passenger?" I went on quickly.