n you are guardian to a pauper?"

"In my capacity of overseer of the poor."

"In my capacity as Philip's friend, I refuse to consider you his
guardian. You may call him a pauper, but that doesn't make him one."

"He is an inmate of the Norton Poorhouse."

Frank laughed.

"I don't want to be disrespectful, Squire Pope," he said; "but I can't
help telling you that you undertook a bigger job than you thought for,
when you made up your mind to make a pauper of Philip Gray."

Squire Pope was indignant at the coolness of Frank.

"I shall come to your house to-morrow morning," he said, "and convince
you to the contrary."

"Very well, sir."

Frank Dunbar bowed, and the squire went his way.

"That's a very impudent boy!" he soliloquized. "Just like the Gray boy.
It wouldn't do him any harm to put him under Joe Tucker's care, too."

After the squire had passed on, Philip came out from behind the stone
wall.

"Did you hear what passed between your guardian and myself?" asked
Frank.

"Yes, I heard every word."

"He little thought that the bird had flown, Phil."

"He will make all the trouble he can. That is one more reason why I
think it best to leave town."

"I wouldn't let Squire Pope drive you out of town."

"I would stay and face the music if it suited me, but I want to go
away."

"Suppose we cut across this field. It will be a little nearer."

"All right."

There was a pathway through a pasture-lot, comprising some ten acres,
poor land, covered with puny bushes, and a few gnarled trees, producing
cider-apples. It belonged to an old bachelor farmer, who lived in
solitary fashion, doing his own cooking, and in general taking care
of himself. He was reputed to have money concealed about his premises,
which was quite probable, as he spent little, and was known to have
received, four years before, a considerable legacy from the estate of a
brother who had died, a successful merchant in the city of New York.

The boys had to pass by the small and weather-stained house where he
lived, as the path ran very near it.

When within a few rods of the house, the boys were startled by a sharp
cry of terror, which appeared to proceed from inside the house.

Both simultaneously stood still.

"What's that!" exclaimed both in concert.

"Somebody must be trying to rob Mr. Lovett," suggested Frank.

"Can't we do something!" said Phil quickly.

"We can try."

There were two stout sticks or clubs lying on the gro