Andy Grant's Pluck. Alger Horatio Jr.

do you do then?"

      "He calls me his private secretary."

      "Do you get as much as three dollars a week?"

      "I am sorry, I can't tell you."

      "Oh, well, if it is such a profound secret. You seem to have got in with him."

      "He treats me very kindly."

      "Is he rich?"

      "I don't know, but I presume he is."

      "I don't see what keeps him in such a dull hole as Arden, when he could live in the city and be in the midst of things."

      "At any rate, it is lucky for me that he chooses to stay here."

      "What on earth does he want of a private secretary?" demanded Conrad.

      "Perhaps you had better ask him."

      "Probably he only hires you out of pity."

      "I won't trouble myself about his motives, as long as he appears to like having me with him."

      Several days passed. The mornings were spent in study, the afternoons on the pond.

      There had been no change in the program, so that Andy was surprised when, one morning, Mr. Gale said:

      "We will omit our lessons this morning; I am going to send you to Benton on an errand."

      "Very well, sir."

      "I have an account with the bank, and will send a check by you to be cashed."

      "All right, sir."

      "I will engage a top buggy for you at the hotel stable. I suppose you are used to driving?"

      "Oh, yes, sir."

      "And I suppose you know the way to Benton?"

      "I have been there a good many times."

      "Then there will be no trouble."

      "When do you want me to start?"

      "At eleven o'clock. That would get you home late to dinner. You may, therefore, stop and dine at the hotel in Benton."

      This would make it a day's excursion. Andy liked driving, and the visit to Benton would be a pleasure to him.

      "I will run home and tell mother I shall not be back to dinner," he said.

      "Very well. Be back here at eleven o'clock."

      "All right, sir."

      When Andy reached the hotel on his return he found the buggy ready.

      Harnessed to it was the best horse in the hotel stable.

      "A pleasant journey to you!" said Walter Gale, smiling at Andy from the piazza.

      "Thank you, sir."

      Andy drove off at good speed. It was a bright, clear morning. The air was invigorating, and his spirits rose.

      He reflected upon his good luck in having found such a friend as Walter Gale. He had been unfortunate, to be sure, in being compelled to leave school, but the hardship was very much mitigated by Mr. Gale's friendship.

      He had gone two-thirds of the way when he overtook a man whose bloated look and shabby clothing proclaimed him to belong to the large class of tramps whose business seems to be to roam through the country in quest of plunder.

      The man looked up as Andy reached him.

      "I say, boy," he called out, "give me a lift, won't you?"

      Andy was kind-hearted, but he was repelled by the unsavory look of the man who asked him this favor. He felt that it would be very unpleasant to have such a man sitting beside him in the buggy.

      "I think you must excuse me," he said.

      "What for?" asked the man, with a scowl. "Are you too proud to take in a poor man?"

      "I don't object to you being poor," answered Andy; "but you look as if you had been drinking."

      The man replied by an oath, and, bending over, he picked up a good-sized stone and flung it at the young driver. Fortunately his condition made his aim unsteady, and the stone flew wide of the mark.

      Andy whipped up the horse, and was soon out of danger.

      CHAPTER VIII.

      A MOMENT OF DANGER

      Andy did not examine the check till he reached the bank in Benton. Then, glancing at it before he presented it to the paying-teller, he found that it was for one hundred and twenty-five dollars.

      "How will you have it?" asked the teller.

      "Twenty-five dollars in small bills; the rest in fives and tens," answered Andy, as instructed by Mr. Gale.

      The bills were counted out and placed in his hands. To Andy they seemed a large sum of money, and, indeed, the roll was big enough to convey that impression.

      As he left the bank he saw the familiar but not welcome face of the tramp who had stopped him glued against the pane. He had attended to some errands before going to the bank, which allowed the fellow time to reach it in season to watch him.

      "I wonder if he saw me putting away the bills?" thought Andy.

      However, in a town like Benton, there was little chance of robbery.

      The tramp looked at him with evil significance as he left the bank.

      "Give me a dollar," he said.

      "I can't," answered Andy.

      "I saw you with a big roll of bills."

      "They are not mine."

      "Give me enough to buy a dinner, then," growled the tramp.

      "Why should I give you anything? You threw a stone at me on the road."

      The tramp turned away muttering, and the glance with which he eyed Andy was far from friendly.

      As directed, Andy went over to the hotel and got dinner. He took the opportunity to dispose of the bills, putting all the large ones in his inside vest pocket. The small bills he distributed among his other pockets.

      Andy started for home at two o'clock. He felt some responsibility, remembering that he had a considerable sum of money with him.

      This made him anxious, and he felt that he should be glad to get home safe and deliver his funds to Mr. Gale. Probably he would not have thought of danger if he had not met the tramp on his way over.

      The road for the most part was clear and open, but there was one portion, perhaps a third of a mile in length, bordered by trees and underbrush. It was so short, however, that it would be soon passed over.

      But about the middle of it a man sprang from the side of the road and seized the horse by the bridle. It did not require a second look to satisfy Andy that it was the tramp.

      The crisis had come! Andy's heart was in his mouth. He was a brave boy, but it might well make even an older person nervous to be stopped by an ill-looking tramp, who was without doubt a criminal.

      "Let go that bridle!" called Andy in a tone which, in spite of his nervousness, was clear and resolute.

      "So I will when I have got what I want," answered the tramp.

      "What do you want?"

      "Look at me and you can tell what I want."

      "I presume you want money, but I have none to give you."

      "You are lying. You have plenty of money about your clothes."

      "I said I had no money to give you."

      "Didn't I see you get a roll of bills at the bank?"

      "Very likely you did, but what about that?"

      "I want some of them. I won't take all, but I am a poor man, and I need them more than the man you are taking them to."

      "Whom do you think I am taking them to?"

      "Squire Carter. He is the only man in Arden that keeps no much money in the bank."

      "You are mistaken; the money