ceived a letter with the
post-mark "New York." Who was there in New York who could know him? Not
his young engineer. He knew his hand. He was now abroad. As he read the
letter he wondered yet more. It was from Norman Wentworth. He had met an
old friend, he said, who had told him about Gordon and about his
father's misfortunes. He himself, he said, was at college, and he found
himself in a position to be able to help a friend. He did not know to
what extent aid might be of service; but he had some means of his own,
and he asked that Gordon would allow him to make him a loan of whatever
might be necessary to relieve his father and himself.

When Gordon finished reading the letter there were tears in his eyes.

He laid the letter in his father's lap, and the old gentleman read it
through slowly. He sat lost in reflection for a few moments and then
handed the letter back to Gordon.

"Write to him and thank him, my son--thank him warmly for both of us. I
will never forget his kindness. He is a gentleman."

This was all; but he too showed in his face that that far-off shaft of
light had reached his heart and rested there.

The General afterwards meditated deeply as to the wisdom of this action.
Just then, however, Providence seemed to come to his aid.

Old Adam Rawson, hearing that he was hard up, or moved by some kindly
impulse, offered to make him a loan. He "happened to have," he wrote, "a
little pile lying by that he didn't have any particular use for just
then, and it had come to him that, maybe, the General might be able to
use it to advantage. He didn't care anything about security or
interest."

The General was perplexed. He did not need it himself, but he was glad
to borrow enough to send Gordon to college for a year. He sent Gordon up
to old Rawson's with a letter.

The old man read the letter and then looked Gordon over; he read it and
looked him over again, much as if he were appraising a young steer.

"Well, I didn't say I'd lend it to you," he said; "but, maybe, I'll do
it if 'twill help the General. Investin' in a young man is kind of
hazardous; it's like puttin' your money in a harry-dick--you don't know
what he's goin' to be. All you has to go on is the frame and your
jedgment."

Fortunately for Keith, the old cattle-dealer had a good opinion of his
"jedgment." He went on: "But I admit blood counts for somethin', and I'm
half minded to adventure some on your blood."

Gordon laughed. He would be g