was taken in Minneapolis--about a year ago. It
was one of the few visits that Frank has made with me."

"Are you going to bring him up to your business?"

"Take care, boy," said the outlaw, frowning. "Don't be impertinent."

"I don't mean to be. Do you think the question an improper one?"

"Well, perhaps I have no right to think so. Somehow the business,
though it seems all right for me, I couldn't think of for my boy. No,
I shall soon place him at school where no one will know that he is
related to the celebrated outlaw. I want him brought up to lead an
honest life."

"I am glad you do. I respect you for that."

"My lad, you seem to be one of the right sort. As you will see my son,
I want you to promise me that you won't say a word about the business
I am engaged in."

"I will make that promise. Then the boy doesn't know?"

"No; he has no suspicion. He is too young to think much about that.
Perhaps if he had associated with other boys much he would have found
out."

While this conversation was going on they had entered a wood, and the
road became wilder and rougher. Indeed, it was hardly a road, but
rather a lane, narrow and grass-grown.

Ernest began to wonder in what sort of a home his companion lived. His
evident affection for his son gave Ernest a different feeling towards
him. It was plain that he had a softer side to his nature, bandit
though he was.

Ernest had never read the story of Jekyll and Hyde, but he felt
instinctively that the man beside him had a double nature. On the road
he was an outlaw, with corresponding traits, a rough and unscrupulous
man, but at home, and in the presence of his son, as Ernest judged, he
was a warm-hearted and affectionate father.

In truth, the young bank messenger looked forward with interest to a
meeting with the boy who was so dear to the heart of a man whom the
world generally supposed to be a stranger to the softer emotions.

At length they reached a rocky hillside. Here the outlaw pulled up his
horse and jumped from the buggy. Ernest looked at him in a questioning
way.

"You can get out," he said. "We have arrived."

Ernest alighted and looked about him. He naturally expected to see a
dwelling of some kind, but there was none in sight. If it was at a
distance, why should they not have driven to it?

James Fox looked at him with a smile, enjoying his perplexity.

From his pocket he drew a handkerchief.

"Come here, my boy," he said.

Ernest did no