ould easily distinguish objects at the distance of a few
rods.

Tom's thoughts reverted to his humble home, more than three thousand
miles away. Probably the fact that he had committed to John Miles a sum
of money to send to his father, had turned his thoughts in that
direction.

"Father will be glad to get the seventy-five dollars," thought Tom, "and
I am sure he will need it. I wish it could get there more quickly, but
it is a long way off."

Tom was not homesick, and was far from wishing himself back, with his
object in coming yet unaccomplished, but it did occur to him, that he
would like to see his father and mother, and brothers and sisters, if
only for a few minutes.

When he came out he had no particular direction in mind in which he
wished to walk, but chance directed his steps toward the tent of his
friend, John Miles.

When he came near it, his attention was arrested by the sight of a
crouching figure which appeared to be entering the tent. His first
thought was, that Miles, like himself, had got up from his couch and was
just returning. He was on the point of calling out "John," when a sudden
doubt and suspicion silenced him.--"Might not it be a robber?"

Tom was determined to find out. He crept nearer, so that he could have a
clearer view of the figure.

"It's Bill Crane!" he said to himself, with sudden recognition. "What's
he up to?"

Tom could guess. He didn't know the man's antecedents, but he had read
his character aright. He was instantly on the alert. Crane evidently was
on a thief's errand, and was likely to steal not only Miles's money but
Tom's. Our hero was alive to the emergency, and resolved to foil him. He
had his revolver with him; for in the unsettled state of society, with
no one to enforce the laws, and indeed no laws to enforce, it was the
custom for all men to go armed.

Tom was not long left in doubt as to Crane's intentions. He saw him
cautiously pulling at something in the tent, and felt sure that it was
the bag of treasure. He decided that the time had come to act.

"Put that back," he exclaimed in boyish, but clear, commanding tone.

Bill Crane turned suddenly, panic-stricken.

He saw Tom standing a few feet from him, with a revolver in his hand.

All was not lost. He might, he thought, intimidate the boy.

"Mind your business, you young cub," he growled.

"What are you about?" demanded Tom.

"I am going to sleep with Miles. He invited me. Does that satisfy you?"