LITMIR.BIZ

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not troubled?”

      “No, father, except about you. I am worried about your health.”

      “It will do no good, my dear boy. I am ready for the summons that is sure to come soon.”

      Meanwhile Bradley Wentworth had left his questionable friend Jake Amsden, and had been walking about on a tour of observation. He was naturally a shrewd man, and had been forming an opinion about the capabilities and prospects of the out-of-the-way locality in which he now found himself.

      “I shouldn’t be surprised,” he reflected, “if at some day – not far distant – a town might spring up on this spot. It is remarkable how soon in this wonderful region the wilderness gives place to flourishing settlements. I suppose land can be bought here for a song.”

      He took a further survey of the neighborhood, and made up his mind that if a town were to spring up, Warren Lane’s land would be in the heart of the future settlement.

      “He has chosen his land well. I didn’t think him so shrewd,” thought Wentworth, “though perhaps it may have been mere chance. He was always a visionary. Still, the fact remains that his land is in the best location hereabouts.”

      Then it occurred to Wentworth that it would be a good speculation to purchase the property. Doubtless Lane was unaware of its value, and would sell for a trifle.

      “I could agree to let him occupy it as long as he lives,” reflected Wentworth. “That won’t be long, and it may be some years before the settlement starts. I think, upon the whole, I can make my visit pay, however the other negotiation comes out.”

      Now that there seemed a prospect of turning a penny, Wentworth began to find his stay in this remote place less tiresome. It was with a quick, brisk step that he walked towards Warren Lane’s humble cabin, revolving the new scheme in his mind.

      “I have been taking a long walk, Lane,” he said, as he re-entered the house.

      “Have you?” said the sick man languidly. “I wish I were in a condition to accompany you. I am afraid you found it lonely and uninteresting.”

      “Oh, no; it is a new country to me, you know. I have never been so far West before. In fifty years from now I shouldn’t wonder if there might be a town located here.”

      “In much less time than that.”

      “Oh, no, I think not. This is ‘the forest primeval,’ as Longfellow calls it. It will be a great many years before a change comes over it. Probably neither you nor I will live to see it.”

      “I shall not.”

      “Pardon me, Warren. I forgot your malady – I am thoughtless.”

      “Don’t apologize, Bradley. I am not disturbed by such references. I understand very well how I am situated – how very near I am to the unseen land. I have thought of it for a long, long time.”

      “And of course you are troubled about your son’s future?”

      “Yes, I admit that, though he tells me he has no anxieties.”

      “He is too young to understand what it is to be thrown on his own resources.”

      “I think not. He is strong and self-reliant.”

      “Strength and self-reliance are good things, but a fair sum of money is better. That emboldens me to mention to you a plan which has occurred to me. You own the land about the cabin, do you not?”

      “Yes; I pre-empted it, and have a government title.”

      “So I supposed. Of course it will be of little value to Gerald. I propose to buy it of you. How many acres are there in your holding?”

      “Eighty.”

      “I will give you two hundred dollars for it.”

      “I do not feel that I have a right to sell it. It belongs to Gerald.”

      “Not yet.”

      “It soon will.”

      “Of course if I buy it I do not wish to interfere with your occupation of it as long as you live.”

      “No, I suppose not. There is no place for me to go. But I think the land will some time be worth a good deal more than at present, and I want Gerald to reap the benefit of it.”

      “I am offering you more than it is worth at present,” said Wentworth impatiently. “Two hundred dollars for eighty acres makes two dollars and a half an acre.”

      “I cannot sell the boy’s little patrimony,” said Mr. Lane firmly.

      “It seems to me he ought to be consulted. As you say, he will soon be the owner.”

      At this moment Gerald entered the cabin.

      “Gerald,” said his father, “Mr. Wentworth has offered me two hundred dollars for our little home, including the cabin and land. He thinks you ought to be consulted in the matter.”

      “I don’t want to sell, father,” said Gerald. “This place is the only home I have, and I don’t want to part with it.”

      “But the money will be very useful to you,” interrupted Wentworth, “and from what your father says, money will be scarce with you.”

      “I suppose it will,” said Gerald with a steady look at the visitor, “though it ought not to be if we had our rights. But, be that as it may, I do not care to have the property sold.”

      Opposition only made Mr. Wentworth more eager. “I will give you two hundred and fifty dollars,” he said.

      “It is of no use, Mr. Wentworth. This humble home is all father has to leave me. For a time, at least, I wish to retain it.”

      Mr. Wentworth bit his lip, and was silent. He saw by the resolute face of Gerald, so much stronger and firmer than his father’s, that it would be of no use to prolong the discussion.

      The evening wore away. It was a question how the guest was to be accommodated for the night. But Gerald settled the question. He had a small single bed in one corner while his father occupied a larger one. He surrendered his bed to the guest, and stretched himself out, fully dressed, on a buffalo robe near the door. They retired early, as Gerald and his father usually did. Mr. Wentworth did not ordinarily keep early hours, but he had been fatigued by his walks during the day, partly because he had traversed considerable ground, but partly on account of the high altitude which made the air rarer, and exertion more difficult.

      All three slept soundly. Though his bed was a hard one, Gerald was no child of luxury and rested peacefully.

      About seven o’clock Mr. Wentworth rose and dressed himself. Gerald was already up, preparing breakfast. All at once he was startled by an exclamation. Looking around he saw Bradley Wentworth examining his pockets in a high state of excitement.

      “What’s the matter?” asked Gerald.

      “Matter enough!” returned the visitor. “I’ve been robbed during the night, and you,” he added fiercely, with a furious glance at Gerald, “you are the thief!”

       CHAPTER VII

      TRACKING THE THIEF

      Gerald blushed with indignation at the unexpected accusation.

      “What do you mean, Mr. Wentworth?” he demanded angrily.

      “I mean just what I say. During the night my wallet, which was full of bank bills, has been stolen. Of course your father couldn’t have taken it. There was no one else in the room except yourself.”

      “You are making a poor return for our hospitality,” said Gerald coldly. “In what pocket did you keep your wallet?”

      “In the inside pocket of my coat.”

      “Look about on the floor. It may have slipped out.”

      Bradley Wentworth deigned to accept this suggestion. Both he and Gerald looked about on the floor, but could discover no trace of the lost article.

      “Just

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