but he had lost his old zest for
business, now that his fortune was secure. He soon came East again,
and entered upon a plan of systematic study, ending with a collegiate
course. He brought with him Frank Fox, the son of the dead outlaw, who
regarded him with devoted affection. They lived together, and he
placed Frank at a well-known school, justly noted for the success of
its pupils.

Of the many boys with whom Frank was associated not one suspected that
the attractive lad, who was a favorite with all, was a son of the
noted desperado whose deeds had been commemorated in dime novels and
were a matter of common knowledge in the West. Ernest had cautioned
the boy to say as little as possible of his past history.

Years have gone by, and what Bolton predicted has come to pass. Ernest
is a young man, a college graduate, and he will soon be married to a
young lady of high position in the city of New York. He will go abroad
for a year, and on his return will take up his home on his ancestral
estate.

Last week he received a letter from a patient in a New York City
hospital. It was signed John Franklin, a name with which he was not
familiar.

In some wonder he answered the call, and was led to a bed on which lay
a gaunt, spectral man, evidently in the last stage of existence.

"Is this John Franklin?" asked Ernest, doubtfully.

"That is the name I go by now," answered the dying man.

"Do I know you? Have I ever met you?"

"Yes."

"I don't remember you."

"If I tell you my real name, will you keep it secret?"

"Yes."

"Then I am John Fox."

"What! the noted outlaw?"

"I am all that is left of him. You will not betray me?"

"No; certainly not. Can I do anything for you?"

"Yes; you were left the guardian of my brother's child?"

"Yes."

"Is he alive? Is he well?"

"Yes."

"Will you bring him here? Will you let me see him before I die?"

"I will. I cannot refuse the request of a dying man."

So Ernest brought Frank to the bedside of his dying uncle. It was a
sad interview. Frank was moved, but John Fox, seeing him strong,
handsome, robust, felt comforted.

"He at least has profited by the fate that overtook his father and
myself. I shall die content, for I leave him in good hands. Don't let
him think too hardly of us!"

"I will not. And so far as I can compass it, his future life shall be
happy."

The dying outlaw reached out his hand and pressed Ernest's gratefully.
A day later, and he was de