ld do for him," said Luke.

"It is more than I deserve," replied Burns, "but you won't be sorry for
your kindness. If ever you see me again, I shall be a different man."

He passed out of the window, and they saw him no more.

Luke and Ernest said very little of their night's adventure, but the gold
watch and the Mexican dollar were returned to the man from whom they had
been taken.

Six months passed. Oreville had doubled its population, the mines had
yielded a large sum in gold-dust, and the store presided over by Ernest
was considerably enlarged.

His services had been so satisfactory that Horace Ames, whose time was
taken up elsewhere, had raised his share of the profits to one-half.

At the end of six months, besides defraying his expenses, Ernest found
himself possessed of a thousand dollars.

"Luke, I feel rich," said he, when his faithful friend came round for a
chat.

"You've done better than I have," rejoined Luke. "The most I have been
able to scrape together is four hundred dollars."

"I will give you a part of my money, so that we may be even."

"No, you won't, Ernest. What do you take me for?"

"Mr. Ames has been very liberal, and that is why I have got so much. I
don't feel that I ought to have so much more than you."

"Don't bother about me, lad; I feel rich with four hundred dollars. I
never was worth so much before, though I'm almost three times your age.
And I wouldn't have that but for you."

"How do you make that out, Luke?"

"Because I never had any ambition till I met you. I never thought of
saving money; as long as I got enough to eat I cared for nothing else. I
should 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 post-marked 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