LITMIR.BIZ

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could have done it?" he asked himself.

      He could not think of any one. He was acquainted with every one in the little village, and he knew none that would be capable of theft. He never thought of the ill-looking tramp whom he had met in Joe Marks' store.

      Ten dollars was a considerable loss to him, for he had estimated that it would defray the expenses of old Peter's interment. It was not so bad as it might have been, however, for the hundred dollars of which Peter had told him were still safe.

      "When I get that I must be careful," he said to himself.

      Though his rest had been disturbed, he felt ready to get up. There was work for him to do. He must arrange for the burial of the old man with whom he had lived so long, the only friend he felt he could claim.

      Ernest rose, and after dressing himself, made a frugal breakfast. He looked sadly at Peter. Death was to him something new and strange, for he did not remember ever having seen a dead man before. He must get help, and with that object in view he went to the village, and sought the store of Joe Marks.

      "What brings you out so early, my lad?" asked Joe.

      "Matter enough, Joe. My uncle is dead."

      He still called him uncle, though he knew now that Peter was no kin to him.

      "Old Peter dead!" ejaculated Marks. "When did he die?"

      "Some time during the night. I wish you'd help me, for I don't know what to do."

      "So I will, boy. We'll stand by you, won't we, Luke?"

      This was said as Luke Robbins entered the store.

      "To be sure we will, Ernest. We all like you."

      "Oh, I forgot to say," continued Ernest, "the cabin was entered last night, and some money taken."

      CHAPTER IV.

      ALONE IN THE WORLD

      Joe Marks and Luke Robbins looked at each other in amazement.

      "Your cabin entered!" exclaimed Joe. "What do you say to that, Luke?"

      "I did not know there were any thieves around here," answered Luke. "What was taken?"

      "An old trunk was opened–I carelessly left it unlocked–and two five-dollar gold pieces were stolen out of it. At any rate I couldn't find them this morning."

      "Two five-dollar gold pieces?" said Joe quickly. "Then I know who took them."

      "What do you mean, Joe?" said Luke. "Out with it!"

      "You know that tramp who was here yesterday, Luke?"

      "Yes."

      "He came round an hour ago, just after I had opened, and called for a glass of whisky. 'Where is your money?' I asked. 'I've got plenty. You needn't be afraid,' he said. Then I called upon him to show it, and he pulled out a five-dollar gold piece. Of course I was surprised. 'Where did you get it?' I asked, suspiciously. 'Yesterday you said you had no money.' 'I had that,' he answered, 'but I didn't want to spend it. You see it was a gift from my dyin' mother, and I wanted to keep it for her sake.' With that he rolled up his eyes and looked sanctimonious. Then I asked him how it happened that he was ready to spend it now."

      "What did he say?"

      "He said that he was so parched with thirst that he felt obliged to do it."

      "Did you take his money?"

      "No. I was short of change. You see I changed a gold piece for the boy yesterday. Besides, I wasn't sure the piece was good, seeing who offered it. I thought it might be bogus."

      "Then he didn't get his whisky?"

      "No. He went away disappointed. I don't doubt, Ernest, that the gold piece was one of yours. How did the fellow get in?"

      "Through the window. I found it open when I woke up."

      "You must have slept sound?"

      "I did. I slept an hour later than I generally do."

      "Was anything else taken?"

      "Not that I could discover."

      "Do you mean to say that your uncle had but ten dollars?" asked Joe incredulously.

      "It was all he had in the trunk."

      "I always thought him a rich man."

      "He was not," said Ernest quietly.

      "Was that all the money he had? He had the reputation of being a miser, with hoards of gold hidden in or near the cabin."

      "I know of one sum of money he had concealed, but it was not a large amount. He told me about it before he died."

      "I'm glad you won't be left penniless, lad; did he own the cabin?"

      "Nobody owned it," said Joe Marks. "It was built years ago by a man who suddenly left it and went away, nobody knew where. It wasn't worth much, and no one ever took the trouble to claim it. When your uncle came here he found it empty and took possession of it, and there he has lived ever since. So you'll have some money, Ernest?"

      "Only a hundred dollars."

      "What will you do? What are your plans?"

      "I don't know. I haven't had time to think."

      "I might find a place for you in the store. We wouldn't like to have you go away."

      "Thank you, Joe. You are very kind. But there's no chance for me around here. I'll take the money, and go somewhere. But first I must see Uncle Peter buried. Will you help me?"

      "To be sure we will. Was he your only relation?"

      "He was not my relation at all."

      "Why, you have always called him uncle."

      "I supposed him to be my uncle, but yesterday he told me that he was only a servant in my father's family, and that on my father's death he was placed in charge of me."

      "I reckon that's so. You didn't favor the old man at all. You look as if you came from better stock."

      "All the same I shall miss him," said Ernest sadly. "He was a good friend to me, Peter was."

      "Did he tell you whether you had any kin?"

      "Yes; I have a cousin of my father's living in New York State. He is a rich man. He inherited the property that ought to have gone to my father."

      "How did that happen?"

      "He prejudiced my grandfather against my father, and so the estate was willed to him."

      "The mean scoundrel!" exclaimed Luke indignantly. "I'd like to have him in my hands for a few minutes; I'd give him a lesson."

      "I should pity him if ever you got hold of him, Luke," said Joe Marks. "But we must consider what we can do for the boy."

      "I wish we could get hold of that thief of a tramp!"

      "Probably we shall. He'll find his way back here sooner or later."

      But the burial of Peter Brant was the first consideration. No undertaker was called, for in that small settlement one would not have been supported. The ceremonies of death were few and simple. A rude wooden box was put together, and Peter was placed in it, dressed as he was at the time of his death. There was an itinerant minister who preached in the village once in four weeks, but he was away now, and so there could be no religious ceremony beyond reading a chapter from the New Testament. Joe Marks, who had received a decent education, officiated as reader. Then the interment took place. In the forenoon of the second day Peter's body was laid away, and Ernest was left practically alone in the world.

      Meanwhile some account must be given of Tom Burns, the tramp.

      When he found it impossible to obtain whisky with the gold he had stolen, he felt very despondent. His throat was parched, and his craving became intolerable. He felt that he had been decidedly ill-used. What was the use of money unless it could be converted into what his soul desired? But there was no way of changing the coin except at the store of Joe Marks. To ask any of the villagers would only have excited surprise and suspicion. Besides, the tramp felt sure that

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