have died without enough to bury me if you had not set me the
example of putting something by for a rainy day."

"I am glad if I have done you any good, Luke, for you have been a kind
friend to me."

A. week later Luke came into the store holding a letter in his hand.

"Here is a letter for you, Ernest," he said. "I was passing the
post-office just now when I was hailed by the postmaster, who asked me
if I would take the letter to you. I didn't know that you had any
correspondents."

"Nor I, Luke. I think it is the first letter I ever received. Whom can
it be from?"

"From some one who knows you are here. It is postmarked St. Louis."

"Well, I can easily discover who wrote it," said Ernest, as he cut
open the envelope with his penknife.

He turned at once to the signature, and exclaimed, in great surprise,
"Why, it's from Tom Burns."

"The man who tried to rob the store?"

"Yes."

"He has probably written to ask you for some money."

"No, Luke, you are mistaken. I will read it to you."

The letter started thus:

ERNEST RAY:

You will probably be surprised to hear from me. Let me begin by saying
that I have kept the promise I made to you and Mr. Robbins when you
let me off six months ago. I have turned over a new leaf, and have
been strictly honest ever since, as I promised you I would be.

I won't trouble you with an account of my struggles to get along. I
will only say that I am employed at present as a waiter at the
Planters Hotel, and though I can't save up much money, I am able to
live comfortable. But you will wonder why I am writing to you. It is
because I have seen your name mentioned in an advertisement in one of
the St. Louis daily papers. I inclose the advertisement, and hope it
is something to your advantage. I have taken the liberty to write to
Mr. Bolton, telling him where you were six months since, and now I
write to you so that you may communicate with him also.

Yours respectfully, TOM BURNS.

The advertisement appended ran thus:

INFORMATION WANTED.--Should this meet the eye of Ernest Ray, some time
residing at Oak Forks, Iowa, he is requested to communicate with
Benjamin Bolton, Attorney-at-Law, 182 Nassau Street, New York City.

CHAPTER XXXII.

MR. BOLTON AS A HUSTLER.

When Benjamin Bolton left the house of Stephen Ray with a hundred
dollars in his pocket, it was with the clearly-defined purpose in his
mind to find the boy who had been so grossly wronged, and force t