"Yes, you are. Perhaps now you will be sorry for your impertinence to me in the pasture."
"When I am I'll tell you so. At present I am glad, and would do the same thing again."
"How do you expect to live?"
"On victuals and drink, thank you."
"If you have money to buy them," supplemented James, with a malicious smile.
"I've got a little money left," and Mark drew out not only his own but the hermit's money. "You see I don't depend on work in the shoe-shop."
James was both amazed and annoyed.
"Where did you get that money?" he asked abruptly.
"I am afraid I must leave your curiosity ungratified. I'll tell you, as it may interest you, that I should have resigned my place in the shop at the end of the week, even if you hadn't kindly got me discharged."
So saying, Mark walked away.
"Where do you think he got that money, Tom?" said James.
"Blamed if I know!"
The next morning Mark walked to the depot to meet the morning train.
CHAPTER XIII.
THE LITTLE MAN IN BLACK
When the morning train arrived, Mark was on hand. He watched carefully for the man he was sent to meet. As it happened, the business agent was the last man to leave the train. He stepped upon the platform, and began to look about him.
Mark advanced towards him, and raised his hat, politely.
"Is this Mr. Hardy?" he asked.
The small man regarded him sharply.
"Yes," he answered. "Have you a message for me?"
"Yes, sir. I am to conduct you to Mr. Taylor."
"Just so. How is his health?"
"He has had an attack of rheumatism, but is better."
"No wonder he is sick, living in that out-of-the-way place. Do you know him well?"
"Pretty well, sir. I am in his employ."
"Ha! then he is living a little more as he should do. What is your name?"
"Mark Manning."
"M. M. Just so. Sounds like a fancy name. Is it?"
"No, sir; it's all the name I have," said Mark smiling.
"How long have you been in the employ of Mr. Taylor?"
"Only a little over a week."
"Do you know anything about his history?" demanded Mr. Hardy, with a sharp look of inquiry.
"Yes, sir. He has told me something of it."
"Humph! Then he must have confidence in you. Well, let us be starting. Is it far?"
"Nearly two miles, sir. Perhaps you will be tired."
"In which case you will perhaps kindly carry me on your shoulders," suggested Mr. Hardy, quizzically.
"I am afraid I shouldn't be able to do that," returned Mark, with a smile.
"And yet, I don't believe I weigh much more than you. What is your weight?"
"One hundred and twenty-three pounds."
"And I weigh one hundred and twenty-four. I have one pound the advantage of you."
Mark, who was a stout boy, was rather pleased to learn that he weighed within a pound as much as his companion. I suppose most boys are proud of their size.
They had commenced their walk and Mark found that his new acquaintance was a fast walker.
"Does Mr. Taylor ever have any visitors?" asked the lawyer, for such was his profession.
"Not from the village, sir."
"From any other quarter?" asked Hardy.
"He had a call from his nephew, lately."
"Lyman Taylor?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then he has found his uncle's place of concealment. What do you know of the interview?"
Mark gave an account of Lyman's visit, his demand for money, and his threatened violence.