The Young Bank Messenger

"What did he reply?"

"Go to the trunk. You will find his letter there. It is in the tray, and addressed to me."

Ernest found it readily.

"May I read it?" he asked.

"Yes, I wish you to do so."

It ran thus:

PETER BRANT.

Sir: I have received your letter making an appeal to me in behalf of Ernest Ray, the son of my cousin. You wish me to educate him. I must decline to do so. His father very much incensed my revered uncle, and it is not right that any of his money should go to him or his heirs. He must reap the reward of his disobedience. So far as I am personally concerned I should not object to doing something for the boy, but I am sure that my dead uncle would not approve it. Besides, I have myself a son to whom I propose to leave the estate intact.

It is my advice that you bring up the boy Ernest to some humble employment, perhaps have him taught some trade by which he can earn an honest living. It is not at all necessary that he should receive a collegiate education. You are living at the West. That is well. He is favorably situated for a poor boy, and will have little difficulty in earning a livelihood. I don't care to have him associate with my boy Clarence. They are cousins, it is true, but their lots in life will be very different.

I do not care to communicate with you again.

STEPHEN RAY.

Ernest read this letter with flushed cheeks.

"I hate that man," he said hotly, "even if he is a relative. Uncle Peter, I am sorry you ever applied to him in my behalf."

"I would not, Ernest, if I had understood what manner of man he was."

"I may meet him some time," said Ernest, thoughtfully.

"Would you claim relationship?"

"Never!" declared Ernest, emphatically. "It was he, you say, who prejudiced my grandfather against my poor father?"

"Yes."

"In order to secure the estate himself?"

"Undoubtedly that was his object."

"Nothing could be meaner. I would rather live poor all my life than get property by such means."

"If you have no more questions to ask, Ernest, I will try to sleep. I feel drowsy."

"Do so, Uncle Peter."

The old man closed his eyes, and soon all was silent. Presently Ernest himself lay down on a small bed near by. When he awoke, hours afterward, he lit a candle and went to Peter's bedside.

The old man lay still–very still. With quick suspicion Ernest placed his hand on his cheek.

It was stone cold.

"He is dead!" cried Ernest, and a feeling of desolation came over him.

"I am all alone now," he murmured.

But he was not wholly alone. There was a face glued against the window-pane a face that he did not see. It was the tramp he had met during the day at the village store.

CHAPTER III.

A SUCCESSFUL ROBBERY

The tramp stood with his face glued to the pane, looking in at the boy. He could not quite understand what had taken place, but gathered that the old man was dead.

"So much the better!" he said. "It will make my task easier."

He had hoped to find both asleep, and decided to wait near the house till the boy went to bed. He had made many inquiries at the store of Joe Marks, and the answers to his questions led him to believe that old Peter had a large amount of money concealed in his cabin.

Now, Tom Burns was a penniless tramp, who had wandered from Chicago on a predatory trip, ready to take any property he could lay his hands on. The chance that presented itself here was unusually tempting to a man of his character.

Earlier in the evening he had reached the cabin, but thought it best to defer his plans until later, for Ernest was awake and stirring about the room.

The tramp withdrew to some distance from the cabin and lay down under a tree, where he was soon fast asleep. Curiously, it was the very oak tree under which Peter's little hoard was concealed, but this, of course, he did not know. Had he been aware that directly beneath him was a box containing a hundred dollars in gold he would have been electrified and full of joy.

Tom Burns in his long and varied career had many times slept in the open air, and he had no difficulty in falling asleep now. But asleep he took no note of time, and when he woke up it was much later than he intended. However, without delay he made his way to the cabin, and arrived just as Ernest discovered the death of the old man whom he had supposed to be his uncle.

What time it was the tramp did not know, for it was years since he had carried a watch; but as he stood with his face glued to the window-pane he heard a clock in the cabin striking the hour of three.

"Three o'clock," he ejaculated. "Well, I did have a nap!"

The boy was awake and he thought it best to wait a while.

"Why didn't I get here a little sooner?" he grumbled. "Then I could have ransacked the cabin without trouble. Probably the old man has been dead some time."

He watched to see what Ernest would do.

"He won't be such a fool as to sit up with the corpse," he muttered, a little apprehensively. "That wouldn't do no good."

Apparently Ernest was of this opinion, for after carefully covering up the inanimate body he lay down again on his own bed.

He did not fall asleep immediately, for the thought that he was in the presence of death naturally affected his imagination. But gradually his eyes closed, and his full, regular breathing gave notice that he was locked in slumber.

He had left the candle burning on the table. By the light which it afforded the tramp could watch him, and at the end of twenty minutes he felt satisfied that he could safely enter.

He lifted the window, and passed into the room noiselessly. He had one eye fixed on the sleeping boy, who might suddenly awake. He had taken off his shoes, and left them on the grass just under the window.

When Tom Burns found himself in the room, he made his way at once to the trunk, which his watchful eye had already discovered.

"That's where the old man keeps his gold, likely," he muttered. "I hope it isn't locked."