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GIFT OF 
 Mr. James S. Porter 
 
KATY O GRADY S VICTORY. 
 
FRANK HUNTER S PERIL 
 
 BY 
 
 HORATIO ALGER, JR. 
 
 AUTHOR OF u RAGGED DICK SERIES," " LUCK AJfD PLUCK 
 
 PHILADELPHIA 
 HENRY T, COATES & CO. 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1896, 
 
 BY 
 HENRY T. COATES & CO. 
 
A3 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. FRANK AND BEN, 5 
 
 II. MR. CRAVEN S COURTSHIP, .... 15 
 
 III. UNWELCOME NEWS, 21 
 
 IV. MR. CRAVEN S FOUR-LEGGED ENEMY, . . 30 
 V. MR. CRAVEN S RETURN, 40 
 
 VI. THE DIFFICULTY OF KILLING A DOG, . . 50 
 
 VII. Miss O GRADY S VICTORY, .... 59 
 
 VIII. FRANK is OBSTINATE, 69 
 
 IX. A STRANGER APPEARS ON THE SCENE, . . 79 
 
 X. A CONSPIRACY AGAINST FRANK, ... 84 
 
 XL TRAPPED, 96 
 
 XII. Two BOY FRIENDS, 105 
 
 XIII. JONATHAN TARBOX, OF SQUASHBORO , . . 114 
 
 XIV. THE LONDON CLERK, 123 
 
 XV. MR. TARBOX is OBSTINATE, . . . .133 
 
 XVI. AN ADVENTURE IN LONDON, . . . .142 
 
 XVII. COLONEL SHARPLEY S RUSE, .... 152 
 
 XVIII. MR. TARBOX AT THE PARIS EXPOSITION, . 162 
 
 XIX. FRANK ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS, .... 172 
 
 (iii) 
 
IV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XX. FRANK LEAVES PARIS, .... 182 
 
 XXL THE HOTEL DU GLACIER, .... . . .192 
 
 XXII. OVER THE BRINK, 202 
 
 XXIII. GIVING THE ALARM, 208 
 
 XXIV. SHARPLEY DISSEMBLES, . . . .212 
 XXV. A USELESS SEARCH, 217 
 
 XXVI. MR. TARBOX ON THE TRAIL, . . .222 
 
 XXVII. TARBOX TO THE EESCUE 232 
 
 XXVIII. SAVED AS BY A MIRACLE, .... 237 
 
 XXIX. FRANK S PEDESTRIAN TOUR, . . . 242 
 
 XXX. NEW FRIENDS, 
 
 2J2 
 
 XXXI. How THE NEWS WENT HOME, . . . 261 
 
 XXXII. BEN BRINGS GOOD NEWS, . . . .269 
 
 XXXIII. ALPINE EXPLORATIONS OF MR. TARBOX, . 279 
 
 XXXIV. THE PLOW is A SUCCESS, . . . .287 
 XXXV. MR. CRAVEN MEETS WITH UNEXPECTED 
 
 DIFFICULTIES, 296 
 
 XXXVI. SHARPLEY s KETURN, . . . .306 
 
 XXXVII. MRS. CRAVEN S FIXED IDEA, . . .315 
 
 XXXVIII. KETRIBUTION, .... 325 
 
FRANK HUNTER S PERIL 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 FRANK AND BEN. 
 
 TS your mother at home, Frank?" asked 
 
 _!_ a soft voice. 
 
 Frank Hunter was stretched on the lawn 
 in a careless posture, but looked up quickly 
 as the question fell upon his ear. A man of 
 middle height and middle age was looking at 
 him from the other side of the gate. 
 
 Frank rose from his grassy couch and an 
 swered coldly : 
 
 " Yes, sir ; I believe so. I will go in and 
 
 see." 
 
 " Oh, don t trouble yourself, my young 
 friend," said Mr. Craven, opening the gate 
 and advancing toward the door with a brisk 
 step. " I will ring the bell ; I want to see 
 your mother on a little business." 
 
 (5) 
 
6 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Seems to me he has a good deal of busi 
 ness with mother," Frank said to himself. 
 "There s something about the man I don t 
 like, though he always treats me well enough. 
 Perhaps it s his looks." 
 
 " How are you, Frank ?" 
 
 Frank looked around, and saw his partic 
 ular friend, Ben Cameron, just entering the 
 gate. 
 
 "Tip-top, Ben," he answered, cordially. 
 " I m glad you ve come." 
 
 " I m glad to hear it ; I thought you might 
 be engaged." 
 
 "Engaged? What do you mean, Ben?" 
 asked Frank, with a puzzled expression. 
 
 " Engaged in entertaining your future step 
 father," said Ben, laughing. 
 
 " My future step-father !" returned Frank, 
 quickly ; " you are speaking in riddles, Ben." 
 
 " Oh ! well, if I must speak out, I saw Mr. 
 Craven ahead of me." 
 
 " Mr. Craven ! Well, what if you did ?" 
 
 " Why, Frank, you must know the cause 
 of his attentions to your mother." 
 
 " Ben," said Frank, his face flushing with 
 
FRANK AND BEN. 
 
 anger, " you are my friend, but I don t want 
 even you to hint at such a thing as that." 
 
 " Have I displeased you, Frank ?" 
 
 " No, no ; I won t think of it any more." 
 
 " I am afraid, Frank, you will have to think 
 of it more," said his companion, gravely. 
 
 "You surely don t mean, Ben, that you 
 have the least idea that my mother would 
 marry such a man as that?" exclaimed 
 Frank, pronouncing the last words contemp 
 tuously. 
 
 " It s what all the village is talking about," 
 said Ben, significantly. 
 
 " Then I wish all the village would mind 
 its own business," said Frank, hotly. 
 
 " I hope they are wrong, I am sure. Cra 
 ven s a mean, sneaking sort of man, in my 
 opinion. I should be sorry to have him your 
 step-father." 
 
 " It s a hateful idea that such a man should 
 take the place of my dear, noble father," ex 
 claimed Frank, with excitement. " My mother 
 wouldn t think of it," 
 
 But even as he spoke, there was a fear in 
 his heart that there might be something in 
 
8 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 the rumor after all. He could not be blind 
 to the frequent visits which Mr. Craven had 
 made at the house of late. He knew that his 
 mother had come to depend on him greatly 
 in matters of business. He had heard her 
 even consult him about her plans for him 
 self, and this had annoyed him. Once he 
 had intimated his dislike of Mr. Craven, but 
 his mother had reproved him, saying that she 
 considered him a true friend, and did not 
 know how to do without him. But he stifled 
 this apprehension, and assured Ben, in the 
 most positive terms, that there was nothing 
 whatever in the report. Whether there was 
 or not, we shall be able to judge better by en 
 tering the house and being present at the in 
 terview. 
 
 Mrs. Hunter was sitting in a rocking-chair, 
 with a piece of needle-work in her hand. 
 She was a small, delicate-looking woman, still 
 pretty, though nearer forty than thirty, and 
 with the look of one who would never depend 
 on herself, if she could find some one to lean 
 upon for counsel and guidance. Frank, who 
 was strong and resolute, had inherited these 
 
FRANK AND BEN. 9 
 
 characteristics not from her but from his 
 father, who had died two years previous, his 
 strong and vigorous constitution succumbing 
 to a sudden fever, which in his sturdy frame 
 found plenty to prey upon. 
 
 And who was Mr. Craven ? 
 
 He was, or professed to be, a lawyer, who 
 six months before had come to the town of 
 Shelby. He had learned that Mrs. Hunter 
 was possessed of a handsome competence, and 
 had managed an early introduction. He suc 
 ceeded in getting her to employ him in some 
 business matters, and under cover of this had 
 called very often at her house. From the first 
 he meant to marry her if he could, as his 
 professional income was next to nothing, and 
 with the money of the late Mr. Hunter he 
 knew that he would be comfortably provided 
 for for life. This very afternoon he had 
 selected to make his proposal, and he knew 
 so well the character and the weakness of the 
 lady that he felt a tolerable assurance of suc 
 cess. He knew very well that Frank did not 
 like him, and he in turn liked our young 
 hero no better, but he always treated him 
 
10 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 with the utmost graciousness and suavity from 
 motives of policy. 
 
 The room in which they were seated was 
 very neatly and tastefully furnished. He 
 looked, to employ a common phrase, " as if 
 butter wouldn t melt in his mouth," and his 
 voice was soft and full of suavity. 
 
 They had evidently heen talking on busi 
 ness, for he is saying, " Now that our business 
 interview is over, there is another subject, my 
 dear Mrs. Hunter, on which 1 wish to speak 
 to you." 
 
 She looked up, not suspecting what was 
 coming, and said, "What is it, Mr. Craven?" 
 
 " It s a very delicate matter. I hardly 
 know how to introduce it." 
 
 Something in his look led her to suspect 
 now, and she said, a little nervously, " Go 
 on, Mr. Craven." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Hunter, the frequent visits 
 I have made here have given me such a view 
 of your many amiable qualities, that almost 
 without knowing it, I have come to love you." 
 
 Mrs. Hunter dropped her work nervously, 
 and seemed agitated. 
 
FKANK AND BEN. 11 
 
 " I esteem you, Mr. Craven," she said, in a 
 low voice, " but I have never thought of mar 
 rying again." 
 
 " Then think of it now, I entreat you. 
 My happiness depends upon it think of 
 that. When I first discovered that I loved 
 you, I tried hard to bury the secret in my 
 own breast, but but it became too strong 
 for me, and now I place my fate in your 
 hands." 
 
 By this time he had edged round to her 
 side, and lifted her hand gently in his, and 
 pressed it to his lips. 
 
 " Do not drive me to despair," he mur 
 mured softly. 
 
 U I I never thought you loved me so 
 much, Mr. Craven," said Mrs. Hunter, in 
 agitation. 
 
 " Because I tried to hide it." 
 
 " Can you riot still be my friend and give 
 up such thoughts ?" 
 
 " Never, never !" he answered, shaking his 
 head. " If you deny my suit, I shall at once 
 leave this village, and bury my sorrow and 
 desolation of heart in some wild prairie 
 
12 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 scene, far from the haunts of men, where I 
 shall linger out the remnant of my wretched 
 life." 
 
 " Don t pray don t, Mr. Craven," she said, 
 in a tone of distress. 
 
 But, feeling that surrender was at hand, he 
 determined to carry the fortress at once. 
 He sank down on his knees, and, lifting his 
 eyes, said : 
 
 " Say yes, I entreat you, dear Mrs. Hunter, 
 or I shall be miserable for life." 
 
 " Pray get up, Mr. Craven." 
 
 " Never, till I hear the sweet word, * yes. 
 
 " Yes, then," she answered, hastily, scarcely 
 knowing what she said. 
 
 At this moment, while Mr. Craven was yet 
 on his knees, the door opened suddenly, and 
 Katy, the Irish maid -of- all- work, entered : 
 
 "Holy St. Pathrick!" she exclaimed, as 
 she witnessed the tableau. 
 
 Mrs. Hunter blushed crimson, but Mr. 
 Craven was master of the situation. Cleverly 
 taking advantage of it to fix the hasty con 
 sent he had obtained, he turned to Katy with 
 his habitual smirk. 
 
FRANK AND BEN. 13 
 
 " Katy, my good girl," he said, u you must 
 not be too much startled. Shall I explain 
 to her, dear Mrs. Hunter?" 
 
 The widow, with scarlet face, was about to 
 utter a feeble remonstrance, but he did not 
 wait for it. 
 
 " Your mistress and I are engaged, Katy," 
 he said, briskly. " You shall be the first to 
 congratulate us." 
 
 " Indade, sir !" exclaimed Katy. " Is it 
 goin to be married, ye are?" 
 " Yes, Katy." 
 
 " I congratulate you, sir," she said, signifi 
 cantly. 
 
 " Plague take her !" thought Mr. Craven ; 
 " so she has the impudence to object, has she? 
 I ll soon set her packing when I come into 
 possession." 
 
 But he only said, with his usual suavity : 
 
 " You are quite right, Katy. I feel that I 
 am indeed fortunate." 
 
 "Indade, mum, I didn t think you wud 
 marry ag in," said Katy, bluntly. 
 
 " I I didn t intend to, Katy, but" 
 
 " I couldn t be happy without her," said 
 
14 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 Mr. Craven, playfully. " But, Katy, you had 
 something to say to Mrs. Hunter." 
 
 " What will I get for supper, mum ?" 
 
 " Anything you like, Katy," said Mrs. 
 Hunter, who felt too much flustered to give 
 orders. " Will you stay to supper, Mr. 
 Craven ?" 
 
 " Not to-night, dear Mrs. Hunter. I am 
 sure you will want to think over the new plans 
 of happiness we have formed. 1 will stay a 
 few minutes yet, and then bid you farewell till 
 to-morrow." 
 
 "That s the worst news Katy O Grady s 
 heard yet," said Katy, as she left the room 
 and returned to her own department. " How 
 can my mistress, that s a rale lady, if ever 
 there was one, tike up wid such a mane apol 
 ogy for a man. Shure I wouldn t take him 
 meself, not if he d go down on forty knees to 
 me no, I wouldn t," and Katy tossed her 
 head. 
 
MB. CEA YEN S COURTSHIP. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 MR. CRAVEN S COURTSHIP. 
 
 WHEN Katy left the room, Mr. Craven 
 still kept his place at the side of the 
 widow. 
 
 "I hope," he said softly, "you were not 
 very much annoyed at Katy s sudden en 
 trance ?" 
 
 " It was awkward," said Mrs. Hunter. 
 
 " True, but, after all, is there anything to 
 be ashamed of in our love ?" 
 
 " I am afraid, Mr. Craven, I do not love 
 you." 
 
 " Not yet, but you will. I am sure you will 
 when you see how completely I am devoted 
 to you." 
 
 " It seems so sudden," faltered Mrs. Hun 
 ter. 
 
 " But, setting aside my affection, think how 
 much it will relieve you of care. Dear Mrs. 
 
16 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 Hunter, the care of your property and the re 
 sponsibility of educating and training your 
 son is too much for a woman." 
 
 " Frank never gives me any trouble," said 
 Mrs. Hunter. " He is a good boy." 
 
 " He is a disagreeable young scamp, in mv 
 opinion," thought Mr. Craven, but lie said, 
 unwittingly speaking the truth : 
 
 " He is indeed a noble boy, with excellent 
 qualities, but you will soon be called upon to 
 form plans for his future, and here you will 
 need the assistance of a man." 
 
 " I don t know but what you are right, Mr. 
 Craven. I should have consulted you." 
 
 " Only one who fills a father s place, dear 
 Mrs. Hunter, can do him justice." 
 
 " I am afraid Frank won t like the idea of 
 my marrying again," said Mrs. Hunter, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " He may not like it at first, but he will be 
 amenable to reason. Tell him that it is for 
 your happiness." 
 
 " But I don t know. I can t feel sure that 
 
 it is.". 
 
 I am having more trouble than 
 
MR. CRAVEN S COURTSHIP. 17 
 
 pected," thought Mr. Craven. " I must hurry 
 up the marriage or I may lose her, and, what 
 is of more importance, the money she repre 
 sents. By the way, I had better speak on that 
 subject." 
 
 "There are some who will tell you that I 
 have only sought you because you are rich in 
 this world s goods that I am a base and mer 
 cenary man, who desires to improve his cir 
 cumstances by marriage, but you, I hope, dear 
 Mrs. Hunter may I say, dear Mary will 
 never do me that injustice." 
 
 " I do not suspect you of it," said Mrs. 
 Hunter, who was never ready to suspect the 
 motives of others, though in this case Mr. 
 Craven had truly represented his object in 
 seeking her. 
 
 " I knew you would not, but others may try 
 to misrepresent me, and therefore I feel it 
 necessary to explain to you that my wealth, 
 though not equal to your own, is still consid 
 erable." 
 
 " I have never thought whether you were 
 rich or poor," said Mrs. Hunter. " It would 
 not influence my decision." 
 
18 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 While she spoke, however, it did excite in 
 her a momentary surprise to learn that since 
 Mr. Craven was rich, he should settle down in 
 so small and unimportant a place as Shelby, 
 where he could expect little business of a pro 
 fessional nature. 
 
 " I know your generous, disinterested char 
 acter," he said ; " but still I wish to explain 
 to you frankly my position, to prove to you 
 that I am no fortune-hunter. I have twenty 
 thousand dollars invested in Lake Superior 
 mining stocks, and I own a small house in 
 New York City, worth about fifteen thousand 
 dollars. It is not much/ he added, modestly, 
 " but is enough to support me comfortably, 
 and will make it clear that I need not marry 
 from mercenary motives. I shall ask the 
 privilege of assisting to carry out your 
 plans for Frank, in whom I feel a warm in 
 terest." 
 
 " You are very generous and kind, Mr. 
 Craven," said Mrs. Hunter, " but his father 
 amply provided for him. Two-thirds of his 
 property was left to Frank, and will go to him 
 on his twenty-first birth-day." 
 
MR. CRAVEN S COURTSHIP. 19 
 
 " Drat the boy," thought Mr. Craven, " he 
 stands between me and a fortune." 
 
 But this thought was not suffered to appear 
 in his face. 
 
 " I am almost sorry," he said, with con 
 summate hypocrisy, " that he is so well pro 
 vided for, since now he does not stand in need 
 of my help, that is, in a pecuniary way. But 
 my experience of the world can at least be of 
 service to him, and I will do my best to make 
 up to him for the loss of his dear father." 
 
 These last words were feelingly spoken. She 
 realized how much she was wanting in the 
 ability to guide and direct a boy of Frank s 
 age. Mr. Craven was a lawyer, and a man 
 of the world. He would be able, as he said, 
 to relieve her from all care about his future, 
 and it was for Frank that she now lived. Her 
 feelings were not enlisted in this marriage 
 with Mr. Craven. Indeed, on some accounts 
 it would be a sacrifice. 
 
 The result was, that twenty minutes later, 
 when he started homeward, Mrs. Hunter had 
 ratified her promise, and consented to an early 
 marriage. Mr. Craven felt that he had, in- 
 
20 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 deed, achieved a victory, and left the house 
 with a heart exulting in his coming pros 
 perity. 
 
 Frank Hunter and Ben Cameron were on 
 the lawn, conversing, when the lawyer passed 
 them. 
 
 " Good afternoon, Frank," he said with 
 suavity. 
 
 " Good afternoon, sir," answered Frank, 
 gravely. 
 
 " The old fellow is very familiar," said 
 Ben, when Mr. Craven had passed out of the 
 gate. 
 
 " He is more familiar than I like," answered 
 Frank. " I don t know why it is, Ben, but I 
 can t help disliking him." 
 
 He had reason to dislike Mr. Craven, and 
 he was destined to have still further cause, 
 though he did not know it at the time. 
 
UNWELCOME NEWS. 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 UNWELCOME NEWS. 
 
 SHORTLY after Mr. Craven s departure, 
 Ben announced that lie must be going. 
 Left alone, Frank went into the house. He 
 felt rather sober, for though he did not be 
 lieve that his mother was in any danger of 
 marrying again least of all, Mr. Craven 
 the mere possibility disturbed him. 
 
 " Is mother up stairs, Katy ?" he asked. 
 
 " Yes," said Katy, looking very knowing. 
 " She went up as soon as Mr. Craven went 
 
 away." 
 
 " He staid a long time. He seems to come 
 here pretty often." 
 
 " May be he ll come oftener and stay longer, 
 soon," said Katy, nodding her head vigor 
 ously. 
 
 " What do you mean, Katy ? What makes 
 you say such things? 
 
22 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " What do I mane ? Why do I say such 
 things? You ll know pretty soon, I m think- 
 ing." 
 
 " I wish you d tell me at once what you 
 mean ?" said Frank, impatiently. 
 
 " Mr. Craven doesn t come here for no 
 thing, bad cess to him," said Katy, oracularly. 
 
 " You don t mean, Katy " exclaimed 
 Frank, in excitement. 
 
 " I mean that you re goin to have a step 
 father, Master Frank, and a mighty mane one, 
 too ; but if your mother s satisfied, it ain t for 
 Katy O Grady to say a word, though he isn t 
 fit for her to wipe her shoes on him." 
 
 " Who told you such a ridiculous story ?" 
 demanded Frank, angrily. 
 
 " He told me himself shure," said Katy. 
 " Didn t I pop in when he was on his knees 
 at your mother s feet, and didn t he ask me 
 to congratulate him, and your mother said 
 never a word ? AVhat do you say to that Mas 
 ter Frank, now ?" 
 
 " I think there must be some mistake, 
 Katy," said Frank, turning pale. " I will go 
 and ask my mother." 
 
UNWELCOME NEWS. 23 
 
 " No wonder the child can t abide havin 
 such a mane step-father as that," solilo 
 quized Katy. " He looks like a sneakin 
 hyppercrite, that he does, and I d like to tell 
 him so." 
 
 Mrs. Hunter was an amiable woman, but 
 rather weak of will, and easily controlled by 
 a stronger spirit. She had yielded to Mr. 
 Craven s persuasions because she had not the 
 power to resist for any length of time. That 
 she did not feel a spark of affection for him, 
 it is hardly necessary to say, but she had 
 already begun to feel a little reconciled to an 
 arrangement which would relieve her from so 
 large a share of care and responsibility. She 
 was placidly thinking it all over when Frank 
 entered the room hastily. 
 
 " Have you wiped your feet, Frank ?" she 
 asked, for she had a passion for neatness. 
 " I am afraid you will track dirt into the 
 
 room." 
 
 " Yes no I don t know," answered 
 Frank, whose thoughts were on another sub 
 ject. "Has Mr. Craven been here?" 
 
 " Yes," replied his mother, blushing a little. 
 
24 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " He seemed to stay pretty long." 
 
 " He was here about an hour." 
 
 " He comes pretty often, too." 
 
 " I consult him about my business affairs, 
 Frank." 
 
 u Look here, mother, what do you think 
 Ben Cameron told me to-day?" 
 
 " I don t know, I am sure, Frank." 
 
 " He said it was all over the village that you 
 were going to marry him." 
 
 " I I didn t think it had got round so 
 soon," said the widow, nervously. 
 
 " So soon ! Why, you don t mean to say 
 there s anything in it, mother ?" said Frank, 
 impetuously. 
 
 " I hope it won t displease you very much, 
 Frank," said Mrs. Hunter, in embarrassment. 
 
 "Is it true? Are you really going to 
 marry that man ?" 
 
 " He didn t ask me till this afternoon, and, 
 of course, it took me by surprise, and I said 
 so, but he urged me so much that I finally 
 consented." 
 
 " You don t love him, mother ? I am sure 
 you can t love such a man as that." 
 
UNWELCOME NEWS. 25 
 
 "I never shall love any one again in that 
 way, Frank never any one like your poor 
 father." 
 
 " Then why do you marry him ?" 
 
 " He doesn t ask me to love him. But he 
 can relieve me of a great many cares and look 
 after you." 
 
 " I don t \va,nt anybody to look after me, 
 mother that is, anybody but you. I hate 
 Mr. Craven !" 
 
 " Now that is wrong, Frank. He speaks 
 very kindly of you very kindly indeed. He 
 says he takes a great interest in you." 
 
 " I am sorry I cannot return the interest he 
 professes. I dislike him, and I always have. 
 I hope you won t be angry, mother, if I tell 
 you just what I think of him. I think he s 
 after your property, and that is what made 
 him offer himself. He is poor as poverty, 
 though I don t care half so much for that as 
 I do for other things." 
 
 " No, Frank ; you are mistaken there," said 
 credulous Mrs. Hunter, eagerly. " He is not 
 poor." 
 
 " How do you know ?" 
 
26 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL, 
 
 " He told me that lie bad twenty thousand 
 dollars worth of mining stock out West some 
 where, besides owning a bouse in New York/ 
 
 Frank looked astonished. 
 
 " If he has as much property as that," he 
 said, " I don t see what makes him come here. 
 I don t believe his business brings him in 
 three hundred dollars a year." 
 
 " That s the very reason, Frank. He has 
 money enough, and doesn t mind if business 
 is dull. He generously offered to pay or was 
 it help pay ? the expenses of your education ; 
 but I told him that you didn t need it." 
 
 "If I did, I wouldn t take it from him. 
 But what you tell me surprises me, mother. 
 He doesn t look as if he was worth five hun 
 dred dollars in the world. What made him 
 tell you all this?" 
 
 " He said that some people would accuse 
 him of being a fortune-hunter, and he wanted 
 to convince me that he was not one." 
 
 " It may be a true story, and it may not," 
 said Frank. 
 
 " You are really very unjust, Frank," 
 said his mother. " I don t pretend to love 
 
UNWELCOME NEWS. 27 
 
 Mr. Craven, and he doesn t expect it, but I 
 am sure he has been very kind, and he takes 
 a great deal of interest in you, and you will 
 learn to know him better." 
 
 " When you are married to him ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Mother," exclaimed Frank, impetuously, 
 " don t marry this man ! Let us live alone, 
 as we have done. We don t want any third 
 person to come in, no matter who he is. I ll 
 take care of you." 
 
 " You are only a boy, Frank." 
 
 " But I am already fifteen. I shall soon be 
 a man at any rate, and I am sure we can get 
 along as well as we have done." 
 
 o 
 
 Mrs. Hunter was not a strong or a resolute 
 woman, but even women of her type can be 
 obstinate at times. She had convinced herself, 
 chiefly through Mr. Craven s suggestion, that 
 the step she was about to take was for Frank s 
 interest, and the thought pleased her that she 
 was sacrificing herself for him. The fact that 
 she didn t fancy Mr. Craven, of course 
 heightened the sacrifice, and so Frank found 
 her far more difficult of persuasion than he 
 
28 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 anticipated. She considered that he was but 
 a boy and did not understand his own inter 
 ests, but would realize in future the wisdom 
 of her conduct. 
 
 " I have given my promise, Frank/ she 
 said. 
 
 " But you can recall it." 
 
 "It would not be right. My dear Frank, 
 why can you not see this matter as I do ? I 
 marry for your sake." 
 
 "Then, mother, I have the right to ask 
 you not to do it. It will make me un 
 happy." 
 
 " Frank, you do not know what is best. 
 You are too young." 
 
 " Then you are quite determined, mother?" 
 asked Frank, sadly. 
 
 " I cannot draw back now, Frank. I I 
 hope you won t make me unhappy by op 
 posing it." 
 
 " I won t say another word, mother, since 
 you have made up your mind," said Frank, 
 slowly. " When is it going to be ?" 
 
 " I do not know yet. Mr. Craven wants it 
 to be soon." 
 
UNWELCOME NEWS. 29 
 
 " You will let me know when it is decided, 
 mother ?" 
 
 " Certainly, Frank." 
 
 He left the room sad at heart. He felt that 
 for him home would soon lose its charms, and 
 that he would never get over the repugnance 
 which he felt against his future step-father. 
 
30 FRANK HUNTER S PESIL. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 MB. CRAVEN S FOUR-LEGGED ENEMY. 
 
 MR. CRAVEN sought his office in a self- 
 complacent mood. 
 
 " By Jove !" he said to himself, " I m in 
 luck. It s lucky I thought to tell her that 
 I was rich. I wish somebody would come 
 along and buy that Lake Superior mining 
 stock at five cents on a dollar," he solilo 
 quized, laughing softly ; " and if he d be 
 good enough to let me know whereabouts that 
 house in New York is, I should feel very 
 much obliged. However, she believes it, and 
 that s enough. No, on the whole, it isn t 
 quite enough, for I must have some ready 
 money to buy a wedding suit, as well as to 
 pay for my wedding tour. I can t very well 
 call upon Mrs. Craven that is to be for that. 
 Once married, I m all right." 
 
 The result of these cogitations was that 
 
MR. CRAVEN S FOUR-LEGGED ENEMY. 31 
 
 having first secured Mrs. Hunter s consent to 
 a marriage at the end of two months, he went 
 to New York to see how he could solve the 
 financial problem, 
 
 He went straightway to a dingy room in 
 Nassau Street, occupied by an old man as 
 shabby as the apartment he occupied. Yet 
 this old man was a capitalist, who had for 
 thirty years lent money at usurious interest, 
 taking advantage of a tight money market 
 and the needs of embarrassed men, and there 
 are always plenty of the latter class in a great 
 city like New York. In this way he had ac 
 cumulated a large fortune, without altering 
 his style of living. He slept in a small room 
 connected with his office, and took his meals 
 at some one of the cheap restaurants in the 
 neighborhood. He was an old man, of nearly 
 seventy, with bent form, long white beard, 
 face seamed with wrinkles, and thick, bushy 
 eyebrows, beneath which peered a pair of 
 sharp, keen eyes. Such was Job Green, the 
 money-lender. 
 
 " Good morning," said Mr. Craven, enter 
 ing his office. 
 
32 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Craven," answered 
 the old man. He had not met his visitor for 
 a long time, but he seldom forgot a face. " I 
 haven t seen you for years." 
 
 " No, I m living in the country now." 
 
 " In the country ?" 
 
 " Yes, in the town of Shelby, fifty miles 
 from the city." 
 
 " Aha ! you have retired on a fortune ?" in 
 quired the old man, waggishly. 
 
 " Not yet, but I shall soon, I hope." 
 
 " Indeed !" returned Job, lifting his eye 
 brows as he emphasized the word. " Then you 
 find business better in the country than in the 
 city?" 
 
 " Business doesn t amount to much." 
 
 " Then how will you retire on the for 
 tune, Mr. Craven? I really should like to 
 know. Perhaps I might move out there 
 myself." 
 
 " I don t think, Mr. Green," said Craven, 
 with his soft smile, " you would take the same 
 course to step into a fortune." 
 
 "And why not?" inquired the old man, 
 innocently. 
 
MR. CRAVEN S FOUR-LEGGED ENEMY. 33 
 
 " Because I am to marry a rich widow," said 
 Mr. Craven. 
 
 " Aha! that is very good," said Job, laugh 
 ing. " Marrying isn t exactly in my line, to be 
 sure. Who is the lucky woman ?" 
 
 " I will tell you, Mr. Green, for I want you 
 to help me in the matter." 
 
 u How can I help you ? You don t want 
 money if you are going to marry a for 
 tune," said Job, beginning to be suspicious 
 that this was a story trumped up to deceive 
 him. 
 
 " Yes, I do, and I will tell you why. She 
 thinks I am rich." 
 
 " And marries you for your money ? Aha ! 
 that is very good," and the man laughed. 
 
 " I told her I owned twenty thousand dol 
 lars worth of stock in a Lake Superior 
 
 mine." 
 
 " Very good." 
 
 " And a fifteen-thousand-dollar house in 
 this city." 
 
 " Oh, you droll dog ! You ll kill me with 
 laughing, Mr. Craven ; I shall certainly 
 choke," and old Job, struck with the drollness 
 
34 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 of regarding the man before him as a capi 
 talist, laughed till he was seized with a cough 
 ing spell. 
 
 " Well, well, Craven, you re a genius," 
 said Job, recovering himself. " You wouldn t 
 ha ! ha ! like to have me advance you a 
 few thousand on the mines, would you now, 
 or take a mortgage on the house ?" 
 
 " Yes, I would." 
 
 "I ll give you a check on the bank of Pat 
 agonia, shall I ?" 
 
 " I see you will have your joke, Mr. Green. 
 But I do want some money, and I ll tell you 
 why. You see I am to be married in two 
 months, and I must have a new suit of clothes, 
 and go on a wedding tour. That ll cost me 
 two or three hundred dollars." 
 " Ask Mrs. Craven for the money." 
 
 " I would, if she were Mrs. Craven, but it 
 won t do to undeceive her too soon." 
 
 " You don t expect me to furnish the 
 money, Craven, do you ?" 
 
 " Yes, I do." 
 
 " What security have you to offer ?" 
 
 " The security of my marriage." 
 
MR. CRAVEN S FOUR-LEGGED ENEMY. 35 
 
 " Are you sure there is to be a marriage ?" 
 demanded Job, keenly. " Tell me, now, is the 
 rich widow a humbug to swindle me out of my 
 money ? Aha! Craven, I have you." 
 
 " No, you haven t, Mr. Green," said Craven, 
 earnestly. "It s a real thing ; it s a Mrs. Hun 
 ter of Shelby ; her husband died two years 
 
 ago." 
 
 " How much money has she got ?" 
 
 " Sixty thousand dollars." 
 
 " What, in her own right ?" 
 
 " Why, there s a son a boy of fifteen," said 
 Mr. Craven, reluctantly. 
 
 " Aha ! Well how much has he got of this 
 money?" 
 
 "I ll tell you the plain truth, Mr. Green, 
 He is to have two-thirds when he comes of 
 age. His mother has the balance, arid enjoys 
 the income of the whole, of course providing 
 for him till that time." 
 
 " That s good," said Job, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Of course, what she has I shall have," 
 added Craven. " To tell the truth," he con 
 tinued, smiling softly, "I shan t spoil the 
 young gentleman by indulgence when he is 
 
36 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 my step-son. I shan t waste much of his in 
 come on him." 
 
 " Perhaps the mother will raise a fuss," 
 suggested Job. 
 
 " No, she won t. She s a weak, yielding 
 woman. I can turn her round my finger." 
 
 " Well, what do you want then ?" 
 
 " I want three hundred and fifty dollars for 
 ninety days." 
 
 " And suppose I let you have it ?" 
 
 "I will pay you five hundred. That will 
 allow fifty dollars a month for the loan." 
 
 " But you see, Craven, she might give you 
 the slip. There s a risk about it," 
 
 " Come to Shelby yourself, and make all the 
 inquiries you see fit. Then you will see that 
 I have spoken the truth, and there is no risk 
 at all." 
 
 " Well, well, perhaps I will. If all is right, 
 I may let you have the money." 
 
 Two days afterward the old man came to 
 Shelby, stipulating that his traveling expenses 
 should be paid by Craven. He inquired 
 around cautiously, and was convinced that 
 the story was correct. Finally he agreed to 
 
ME. CRAVEN S FOUR-LEGGED ENEMY. 37 
 
 lend the money, but drove a harder bargain 
 than first proposed exacting six hundred 
 dollars in return for his loan of three hun 
 dred and fifty. It was outrageous, of course, 
 but he knew how important it was to Mr. 
 Craven, and that he must consent. 
 
 Frank, according to his determination, said 
 not a word further to his mother about the 
 marriage. He avoided mentioning Mr. Cra 
 ven s name even. But an incident about this 
 time, though Frank was quite innocent in the 
 matter, served to increase Mr. Craven s dis 
 like for him. 
 
 He had spent the evening with Mrs. Hun 
 ter, and was about to leave the house when a 
 watch-dog, which Frank had just purchased, 
 sprang upon him, and, seizing him by the 
 coat-biils, shook him fiercely. 
 
 Mr. Craven disliked dogs, and was thor 
 oughly frightened. He gave a loud shriek, 
 and tried to escape, but the dog held on grimly. 
 
 "Help, help!" he shrieked, at the top of 
 his voice. 
 
 Frank heard the cry from the house, and 
 ran out. 
 
38 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 At this juncture he managed to break away 
 from the dog, and made a rush for the garden 
 wall. 
 
 " Down, Pompey ! Ain t you ashamed of 
 yourself?" said Frank, sternly, seizing the 
 dog by the collar. 
 
 " I am very sorry, Mr. Craven," he added. 
 
 Mr. Craven turned wild with rage, and his 
 soft voice trembled as he said : 
 
 " Really, Frank, it is hardly fair to your 
 visitors to keep such a fierce animal about." 
 
 " He didn t know you, sir. To-morrow I 
 will make you acquainted, and then there will 
 be no danger of this occurring again/ 
 
 " I really hope not," said Craven, laughing 
 rather discordantly. 
 
 " I hope he hasn t bitten you, sir." 
 
 " No, but he has torn my coat badly. How 
 ever, it s of no consequence. Accidents will 
 happen." 
 
 " He takes it very well," thought Frank, 
 as Mr. Craven said good-night. But it was 
 by a strong effort that his future step-father 
 had done so. 
 
 " Curse the dog !" he said to himself, with 
 
MR. CRAVEN S FOUR-LEGGED ENEMY. 39 
 
 suppressed passion. " After I am married and 
 fairly settled down, I will shoot him. Thus 
 I will spite the boy and revenge myself on the 
 brute at the same time." 
 
40 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL, 
 
 CHAPTEK V. 
 MR. CRAVEN S RETURN. 
 
 MR CRAVEN called the next day, as 
 usual. Frank apologized again for 
 Pompey s rude treatment of the evening pre 
 vious, and, as far as he could, established 
 friendly relations between the parties. Pom- 
 pey, who had nothing vicious about him, and 
 was only anxious to do his duty, looked meek 
 and contrite, and Mr. Craven, to all appear 
 ance, had quite forgiven him. 
 
 "Good dog!" he exclaimed, patting Pom- 
 pey s head. " Say no more about it, Frank," 
 he said, in his usual soft voice ; " it was only 
 an accident. I foresee that Pompey and I 
 will be excellent friends in future." 
 
 " I hope your coat isn t much torn, sir." 
 
 " It can easily be repaired. It isn t worth 
 mentioning. Is your mother at home." 
 
 " Yes, sir. Walk in." 
 
MR. CRAVEN S RETURN. 41 
 
 " He behaves very well about it," thought 
 Frank. " He may be a better man than I 
 thought. I wish I could like him, as he is to 
 be my step-father; but I think there are some 
 persons it is impossible to like." 
 
 So the time passed, and the wedding-day 
 drew near. Frank did not consider it honor 
 able to make any further objection to the 
 marriage, though he often sighed as he thought 
 of the stranger who was about to be intro 
 duced into their small circle. 
 
 " Mother will seem different to me when she 
 is that man s wife," he said to himself. " I 
 shall love her as much, but she won t seem to 
 belong to me as much as she did." 
 
 In due time the wedding was celebrated. 
 Mrs. Hunter wished it to be quiet, and Mr. 
 Craven interposed no objection. Quiet or 
 not, he felt that the substantial advantages of 
 the union would be his all the same. Mrs. 
 Hunter looked a little nervous during the 
 ceremony, but Mr. Craven was smiling and 
 suave as ever. When he kissed his wife, sa 
 luting her as Mrs. Craven, she shuddered a 
 little, and with difficulty restrained her tears, 
 
42 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 for it reminded her of her first marriage, so 
 different from this, in which she wedded a 
 man to whom she was devoted in heart and 
 soul. 
 
 The ceremony took place at eleven o clock, 
 and the newly-wedded pair started on a tour 
 as previously arranged. So for two weeks 
 Frank and Katy O Grady were left alone in 
 the house. Katy was a privileged character, 
 having been in the family ever since Frank 
 was a baby, and she had no hesitation in de 
 claring her opinion of Mr. Craven. 
 
 "What possessed the mistress to marry 
 such a mane specimen of a man, I can t tell," 
 she said. 
 
 "I don t like him myself," said Frank; 
 "but we must remember that he s my moth 
 er s husband now, and make the best of 
 him." 
 
 "And a mighty poor best it will be," said 
 Katy. 
 
 " There you go again, Katy !" 
 
 " I can t help it, shure. It vexes me intirely 
 that my dear mistress should throw herself 
 away on such a man." 
 
MR. CE A YEN S RETURN. 43 
 
 " What can t be cured must be endured, 
 you know. You mustn t talk that way after 
 Mr. Craven comes back." 
 
 " And what for will I not. Do you think 
 I m afraid of him ?" asked Katy, defiantly. 
 " If he is a man, I could bate him in a 
 square fight," 
 
 "I don t know but you could, Katy," 
 said Frank, glancing at the muscular arms 
 and powerful frame of the handmaiden ; " but 
 I really hope you won t get into a fight," he 
 added, smiling. " It wouldn t look well, you 
 know." 
 
 " Then he d better not interfare wid me," 
 said Katy, shaking her head. 
 
 "You must remember that he will be 
 master of the house, Katy." 
 
 " But he sha n t be master of Katy 
 O Grady," said that lady, in a very decided 
 tone. 
 
 " I don t suppose you ll have much to do 
 with him," said Frank. 
 
 He sympathized with Katy more than he 
 was willing to acknowledge, and wondered 
 how far Mr. Craven would see fit to exercise 
 
44 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 the authority of a step-father. He meant to 
 treat him with the respect due to his mother s 
 husband, but to regard him as a father was 
 very repugnant to him. But he must be 
 guided by circumstances, and he earnestly 
 hoped that he would be able to live peacefully 
 and harmoniously with Mr. Craven. 
 
 Days passed, and at length Frank received 
 a dispatch, announcing the return home. 
 
 " They will be home to-night, Katy," he 
 said. 
 
 " I ll be glad to see your mother, shure," 
 said Katy, " but I wish that man wasn t 
 comin wid her." 
 
 " But we know he is, and we must treat 
 him with respect." 
 
 " I don t feel no respect for him." 
 
 " You must not show your feelings, then, 
 for my mother s sake." 
 
 At five o clock the stage deposited Mr. and 
 Mrs. Craven at the gate. 
 
 Frank ran to his mother, and was folded 
 in her embrace. Then he turned to Mr. 
 Craven, who was standing by, with his usual 
 smile, showing his white teeth. 
 
MR. CRAVEN S RETURN. 45 
 
 " I hope you have had a pleasant journey, 
 sir," he said. 
 
 " Thank you, Frank, it has been very 
 pleasant, but we are glad to get home, are we 
 not, my dear ?" 
 
 " I am very glad," said Mrs. Craven, thank 
 fully, and she spoke the truth ; for though 
 Mr. Craven had been all attention (he had 
 not yet thought it prudent to show himself in 
 his true colors), there being no tie of affec 
 tion between them, she had grown inexpres 
 sibly weary of the soft voice and artificial 
 smile of her new husband, and had yearned 
 for the companionship of Frank, and even 
 her faithful handmaiden, Katy O Grady, who 
 was standing on the lawn to welcome her, 
 and only waiting till Frank had finished his 
 welcome. 
 
 " How do you do, Katy," said her mistress. 
 
 " I m well, mum, thankin you for askin , 
 and I m mighty glad to see you back." 
 
 " I hope you are glad to see me also, Ka 
 ty," said Mr. Craven, but his soft voice and 
 insinuating smile didn t melt the hostility of 
 Miss O Grady. 
 
46 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 "I m glad you ve brought the mistress 
 home safe," she said, with a low bow ; " we ve 
 missed her from morning till night, sure ; 
 haven t we, Master Frank ?" 
 
 " I see she isn t my friend," thought Mr. 
 Craven. " She d better change her tune, or 
 she won t stay long in my house." 
 
 He had already begun to think of himself 
 as the sole proprietor of the establishment, and 
 his wife as an unimportant appendage. 
 
 " I hope you have some supper for us, 
 Katy," said he, not choosing at present to be 
 tray his feelings, " for I am quite sure Mrs. 
 Craven and myself have a good appetite." 
 
 " Mrs. Craven !" repeated Katy, in pre 
 tended ignorance. " Oh, you mean the mistress, 
 
 sure." 
 
 " Of course I do," said Mr. Craven, with a 
 frown, for once betraying himself. 
 
 "Supper is all ready, ma am," said Katy, 
 turning to Mrs. Craven. " It ll be ready as 
 soon as you ve took off your things." 
 
 When they sat down to the table, Frank 
 made a little mistake. He had always been 
 accustomed to sit at the head of the table, op- 
 
ME. CRAVEN S RETURN. 47 
 
 posite his mother, and on the frequent occa 
 sions of Mr. Craven s taking a meal there 
 during the engagement, the latter had taken 
 the visitor s place at the side. 
 
 So to-night, without thinking of the latter s 
 new relations to him, Frank took his old 
 place. Mr. Craven noticed it, and soft and 
 compliant as he was, he determined to assert 
 his position at once. " I believe that is my 
 place," he said, with an unpleasant smile. 
 
 " Oh, I beg pardon," said Frank, his face 
 flushing. 
 
 " You forgot, I suppose," said Mr. Craven, 
 still smiling. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " You ll soon get used to the change," said 
 his step-father, as he seated himself in the 
 chair Frank had relinquished. 
 
 Mrs. Craven looked a little uncomfortable. 
 She began to realize that she had introduced 
 a stranger into the family, and that this would 
 interfere to a considerable extent with their 
 old pleasant way of living. 
 
 No one seemed inclined to talk except Mr. 
 Craven. He seemed disposed to be sociable, 
 
48 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 and passed from one subject to another, re 
 gardless of the brief answers he received. 
 
 " Well, Frank, and how have you got along 
 since we were away ?" he asked. 
 
 " Very well, sir." 
 
 " And you haven t missed us then ?" 
 
 " I have missed my mother, and should 
 have missed you," he added politely, " if you 
 had been accustomed to live here." 
 
 " And how isPompey?" asked Mr. Craven, 
 again showing his teeth. 
 
 * The same as usual. I wonder he was not 
 out on the lawn to receive you and my 
 mother." 
 
 " I hope he wouldn t receive me in the same 
 way as he did once," said Mr. Craven, again 
 displaying his teeth. 
 
 "No danger, sir. He didn t know you then." 
 
 " That s true, but I will take care that he 
 knows me now," said Mr. Craven, softly. 
 
 " I think he will remember you, sir ; he is 
 a good dog, and very peaceable unless he 
 thinks there are improper persons about." 
 
 " I hope he didn t think me an improper 
 person," said Mr. Craven. 
 
MR. CRAVEN S RETURN. 49 
 
 " No fear, sir." 
 
 Frank wondered why Mr. Craven should 
 devote so much time to Pompey, but he was 
 destined to be enlightened very soon. 
 
50 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE DIFFICULTY OF KILLING A DOG. 
 
 IF Frank supposed that Mr. Craven had 
 forgotten or forgiven Pompey s attack 
 upon him, he was mistaken. Within a week 
 after Mr. Craven had been established as a 
 permanent member of the household, Katy, 
 looking out of the kitchen window, saw him 
 advancing stealthily to a corner of the back 
 yard with a piece of raw meat in his hand. 
 He dropped it on the ground, and then, with 
 a stealthy look around, he withdrew hastily. 
 
 "What is he doin , sure?" said the aston 
 ished Katy to herself; then, with a flash of 
 intelligence, she exclaimed, " I know what he 
 manes, the dirty villain ! The meat is p isoned, 
 and it s put there to kill the dog. But he 
 shan t do it, not if Katy O Grady can prevint 
 him." 
 
 The resolute handmaid rushed to the pan- 
 
THE DIFFICULTY OF KILLING A DOG. 51 
 
 try, cut off a piece of the meat meant for the 
 morrow s breakfast, and carrying it out into the 
 yard, was able, unobserved by Mr. Craven, to 
 substitute it for the piece he had dropped. 
 This she brought into the kitchen, and lifting 
 it to her nose, smelled it. It might have been 
 Katy s imagination, but she thought she de 
 tected an uncanny smell. 
 
 "It s p isoned, sure!" she said. " I smell 
 it plain ; but it shan t harm poor Pomp ! I ll 
 put it where it ll never do any harm." 
 
 She wrapped it in a paper, and carrying it 
 out into the garden, dug a hole in which she 
 deposited it. 
 
 " Won t the ould villain be surprised when 
 he sees the dog alive and well to morrow 
 morning?" she said to herself, with exulta 
 tion. 
 
 Fifteen minutes later, Mr. Craven, from an 
 upper window, had the satisfaction of seeing 
 the dog greedily eating what he supposed 
 would be his last meal on earth. 
 
 " That ll fix him!" he muttered, smiling 
 viciously. " He won t attack me again very 
 soon. Young impudence will never know 
 
52 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 what hurt the brute. That s the way I mean 
 to dispose of ray enemies." 
 
 Probably Mr. Craven did not mean exactly 
 what might be inferred from his remarks, but 
 he certainly intended to revenge himself 
 on all who were unwise enough to oppose 
 him. 
 
 Mr. Craven watched Pompey till he had 
 consumed the last morsel of the meat, and 
 then retired from the window, little guessing 
 that his scheme had been detected and baffled. 
 
 The next morning he got up earlier than 
 usual, on purpose to enjoy the satisfaction of 
 seeing his four-footed enemy stretched out 
 stiff and stark. What was his astonishment 
 to see the dog jumping over a stick at the 
 command of his young master. Had he sud 
 denly seen Pompey s ghost (supposing dogs 
 to have ghosts), he could scarcely have been 
 more astonished or dismayed. 
 
 " Goodness gracious ! that dog must have 
 a cast-iron constitution !" he said to him 
 self. " There was enough strychnine on that 
 meat to kill ten men. I don t understand it 
 at all." 
 
THE DIFFICULTY OF KILLING A DOG. 53 
 
 " He looks as if his grandmother had died 
 and left him nothin at all in her will," said 
 Katy to herself, slyly watching him out of the 
 window. "The ould villain s disappinted sure, 
 and it s Katy O Grady he s got to thank for 
 it, if he only knew it." 
 
 " Good morning, sir," said Frank, for the 
 first time noticing the presence of Mr. 
 Craven. 
 
 " Good morning, Frank," replied his step 
 father, opening his mouth with his customary 
 smile. " Pompey seems lively this morning." 
 
 " Yes, sir. I am teaching him to jump 
 over this stick." 
 
 " Good dog !" said Mr. Craven, patting him 
 softly. 
 
 " Oh. the ould hypocrite !" ejaculated Katy, 
 who had slyly opened the window a trifle and 
 heard what he said. " He tries to p ison the 
 poor creeter, and thin calls him good dog." 
 
 Mr. Craven meanwhile was surveying 
 Pompey curiously. 
 
 " I certainly saw him eat the meat," he said 
 to himself, " and I am sure it was tainted 
 with a deadly poison. Yet here the dog is 
 
54 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 alive and well, after devouring every morsel 
 of it. It is certainly the most curious case I 
 ever heard of." 
 
 Mr. Craven went into the house, and turned 
 to the article on strychnine in an encyclopaB- 
 dia, but the statements he there found cor 
 roborated his previously formed opinion as 
 to the deadly character and great strength of 
 the poison. Pompey must certainly be an 
 extraordinary dog. Mr. Craven was puz 
 zled. 
 
 Meanwhile Katy said to herself: 
 
 "Shall I tell Master Frank what Mr. 
 Craven tried to do ? Not yit. I ll wait a bit, 
 and while I m waitin I ll watch. He don t 
 suspect that Katy O Grady s eyes are on him, 
 the villain !" 
 
 It may not be considered suitable generally 
 for a maid-of-all-work to speak of her em 
 ployer as a villain ; but then Katy had some 
 grounds for her use of this term, and being a 
 lady very decided in her language, it is not 
 singular that such should have been her 
 practice. 
 
 Notwithstanding the apparent superiority 
 
THE DIFFICULTY OF KILLING A DOG. 55 
 
 of Pompey s constitution to the deadliest 
 poison, Mr. Craven s murderous intent was 
 by no means laid aside. He concluded to try 
 another method of getting him out of the 
 way. He had a pistol in his trunk, and he 
 resolved to see if Pompey was bullet-proof as 
 well as poison-proof. 
 
 Three days later, therefore, when Frank 
 was at school, and Mrs. Craven was in attend 
 ance at the house of a neighbor, at a meeting 
 of the village sewing-circle, Mr. Craven 
 slipped the pistol into his pocket and repaired 
 to the back yard, where Pornpey, as he antici 
 pated, was stretched out in the sun, having a 
 comfortable nap. 
 
 " Pompey/ said Mr. Craven, in a low tone, 
 " come here. Good dog." 
 
 Pompey walked up, and, grateful for atten 
 tion, began to fawn upon the man who sought 
 to lure him to death. 
 
 " Good dog ! Fine fellow !" repeated Mr. 
 Craven, stroking him. 
 
 Pompey seemed to be gratefully apprecia 
 tive of the kindness. 
 
 Low and soft as were his tones for he did 
 
56 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 not wish to attract any attention Mr. Craven 
 was overheard. Katy O Grady s ears were 
 sharp, and at the first sound she drew near 
 to the window, where, herself unobserved, she 
 was an eye and ear witness of Mr. Craven s 
 blandishments. 
 
 " What is the ould villain doin now ?" she 
 said to herself. " Is he going to thry p isonin 
 him again ?" 
 
 But no piece of meat was produced. Mr. 
 Craven had other intentions. 
 
 " Come here, Pompey," said he, soothingly ; 
 " follow me, sir." 
 
 So saying, he rose and beckoned the dog to 
 follow him. 
 
 Pompey rose, stretching his limbs, and 
 obediently trotted after his deadly foe. 
 
 " Where s he takin him to ?" thought Katy. 
 " He manes mischief, I ll be bound. The mis- 
 thress is gone, and Master Frank s gone, and 
 he thinks there ain t nobody to interfere. 
 Katy O Grady, you must go after him and 
 see what he s up to." 
 
 Katy was in the midst of her work, but she 
 didn t stop for that. She had in her hand a 
 
THE DIFFICULTY OF KILLING A DOG. 57 
 
 glass tumbler, which she had been in the act 
 of wiping, but she didn t think to put it down. 
 Throwing her apron over her head, she fol 
 lowed Mr. Craven at a little distance. He 
 made his way into a field in the rear of the 
 house. She went in the same direction, but on 
 the other side of a stone wall which divided it 
 from a neighboring field. From time to time 
 she could catch glimpses, through the loosely 
 laid rocks, of her employer, and she could 
 distinctly hear what he was saying. 
 
 " My friend Pompey," he said, with a smile 
 full of deadly meaning, " you are going to your 
 death, though you don t know it. That was 
 a bad job for you when you attacked me, my 
 four-footed friend. You won t be likely to 
 trouble me much longer." 
 
 " What s he going to do to him? " thought 
 Katy ; " it s not p ison, for he hasn t got any 
 meat, May be it s shoot-in him he manes." 
 
 Mr. Craven went on. 
 
 " Poison doesn t seem to do you any harm, 
 but I fancy you can t stand powder and ball 
 quite so well." 
 
 " Yes, he s goin to shoot him. What will 
 
58 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 I do?" thought Katy. "I m afraid I can t 
 save the poor creetur s life." 
 
 By this time Mr. Craven had got so far that 
 he considered it very unlikely that the report 
 of the pistol would he heard at the house. He 
 stopped short, and, with a look of triumphant 
 malice, drew the pistol from his pocket. 
 Pompey stood still, and looked up in his face. 
 
 " How can he shoot the poor creetur , and 
 him lookin up at him so innocent ?" thought 
 Katy. " What will I do ? Oh, I know I ll 
 astonish him a little." 
 
 Mr. Craven was just pointing the pistol at 
 Pompey, when Katy flung the tumbler with 
 force against his hat, which rolled off. In his 
 fright at the unexpected attack, the pistol 
 went off, hut its contents were lodged in a tree 
 near by, and Pompey was unhurt. 
 
 Mr. Craven looked around him with startled 
 eyes, but he could not see Katy crouching be 
 hind the wall, nor did he understand from 
 what direction the missile had come. 
 
MISS O GEADY S VICTORY. 59 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MISS O GRADY S VICTORY. 
 
 ROUGHING behind the stone wall, Katy 
 \J enjoyed the effect of what she had done. 
 She particularly enjoyed the bewildered look 
 of Mr. Craven, who, bare-headed, looked on 
 this side and oil that, unable to conjecture who 
 had thrown the missile. 
 
 Pompey, unconscious of the danger he had 
 escaped, walked up to the tumbler and smelt 
 of it. This attracted the attention of Mr. 
 Craven, who stooped and picked it up. His 
 bewilderment increased. If it had been a 
 stone, he would have understood better, but 
 how a tumbler should have found its way here 
 as a missile was incomprehensible. 
 
 It slowly dawned upon him that the person 
 who threw it must be somewhere near. Then 
 again, on examining it further, he began 
 to suspect that it was one of his wife s turn- 
 
60 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 biers, and he jumped to the conclusion that it 
 was Frank who threw it. 
 
 " If it is he, I ll wring his neck !" he 
 murmured, revengefully. " I mean to find 
 out/ 
 
 " Pompey," he said, calling the dog, " do 
 you see this tumbler?" 
 
 Pompey wagged his tail. 
 
 " Who threw it ?" 
 
 Pompey looked up, as if for instructions. 
 
 " Go find him !" said Mr. Craven, in a tone 
 of command. 
 
 The dog seemed to understand, for he put 
 his nose to the ground and began to run along, 
 as if in search. 
 
 "Oh, murther! What if he finds me?" 
 thought Katy, crouching a little lower. " Won t 
 he be mad, jist?" 
 
 Katy might have crawled away unobserved, 
 very possibly, if she had started as soon as 
 the missile was thrown. Now, that dog and 
 man were both on the lookout, escape was cut 
 off. 
 
 "Will he find me?" Katy asked herself, 
 with some anxiety. 
 
MISS O GRADY S VICTORY. 61 
 
 The question was soon answered. 
 
 Pompey jumped over the wall, and a joyous 
 bark announced his discovery. He knew 
 Katy, and seemed to fancy that she had con 
 cealed herself in joke. He jumped upon her, 
 and wagged his tail intelligently, as if to say : 
 
 " You see, I ve found you out, after all." 
 
 Mr. Craven hurried to the wall, eagerly ex 
 pecting to detect Frank in the person con 
 cealed. He started back in astonishment as 
 Katy O Grady rose and faced him. Then he 
 became wrathful, as he realized that his own 
 hired servant had had the audacity to fling a 
 tumbler at his hat. 
 
 " What brings you out here, Katy ?" he de 
 manded, with a frown. 
 
 " Shure, sir," said Katy, nonchalantly, " I 
 was tired wid stayin in the hot kitchen, 
 and I thought I d come out and take the air 
 jist." 
 
 " And so you neglected the work." 
 
 " The worruk will be done; niver you mind 
 about that." 
 
 " Did you fling this tumbler at my head ?" 
 demanded Mr. Craven, sternly. 
 
62 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Let me look at it, sir." 
 
 Katy looked at it scrutinizingly, and made 
 answer : 
 
 " Very likely, sir." 
 
 " Don t you know?" 
 
 " I wouldn t swear it was the same one, 
 sir, but it looks like it." 
 
 " Then you admit throwing a tumbler at 
 my head, do you ?" 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " Didn t you say you did just now ?" 
 
 " I threw it at your hat." 
 
 " It is the same thing. How came you to 
 have the cursed impudence to do such a 
 thing?" asked her master, wrathfully. 
 
 " Because you was goin to shoot the dog," 
 said Katy, coolly. 
 
 "Suppose I was, is it any business of yours ?" 
 
 " The dog doesn t belong to you, Mr. Cra 
 ven. It belongs to Master Frank." 
 
 " I don t think it expedient for him to keep 
 such an ill-natured brute around." 
 
 " He calls you a brute, Pomp," said Katy, 
 caressing Pompey " you that s such a good 
 dog. It s a shame !" 
 
MISS O GEADY S VICTORY. 63 
 
 " Catherine/ 7 said Mr. Craven, with out 
 raged dignity, " your conduct is very im 
 proper. You have insulted me." 
 
 " By the powers, how did I do it ?" asked 
 Katy, with an affectation of innocent wonder. 
 
 " It was an insult to throw that tumbler at 
 my head. I might order the constable to 
 arrest you." 
 
 "I d like to see him thry it!" said Katy, 
 putting her arms akimbo in such a resolute 
 fashion that Mr. Craven involuntarily stepped 
 back slightly. 
 
 " Are you aware that I am your master ?" 
 continued Mr. Craven, severely. 
 
 " No, I m not," answered Katy, promptly. 
 
 " You are a servant in my house." 
 
 " No, I m not. The house don t belong to 
 you at all, sir. It belongs to my mistress and 
 Master Frank." 
 
 " That s the same thing. According to the 
 law, I am in control of their property," said 
 Mr. Craven, resolved upon a master-stroke 
 which, he felt confident, would overwhelm 
 his adversary. " After the great impro 
 priety of which you have been guilty this 
 
64 FKANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 afternoon, I discharge you from my employ 
 ment." 
 
 " You discharge me !" exclaimed Katy, 
 with incredulous scorn. 
 
 " I discharge you, and I desire you to leave 
 the house to-morrow." 
 
 " You discharge me !" repeated Katy, with 
 a ringing laugh. " That s a good one." 
 
 Mr. Craven s cadaverous face colored with 
 anger. 
 
 " If you don t go quietly, I ll help you out," 
 he added, incautiously. 
 
 " Come on, then," said Katy, assuming 
 a warlike attitude. " Come on, then, and 
 we ll see whether you can put out Katy 
 O Grady." 
 
 " Your impudence will not avail you. I 
 am determined to get rid of you." 
 
 " And do ye think I m goin to lave the 
 house, and my ould misthress, and Master 
 Frank, at the orders of such an interloper as 
 you, Mr. Craven ?" she cried, angrily. 
 
 " I don t propose to multiply words about 
 it," said Mr. Craven, with an assumption 
 of dignity. "If you had behaved well, 
 
MISS O GRADY S VICTORY. 65 
 
 you might have stayed. Now you must 
 go." 
 
 " Must I ?" sniffed Katy, indignantly. 
 "MustI, indade?" 
 
 " Yes, you must, and the less fuss you make 
 about it the better." 
 
 Mr. Craven supposed that he had the de 
 cided advantage, and that Katy, angry as she 
 was, would eventually succumb to his au 
 thority. But he did not know the indepen 
 dent spirit of Catherine O Grady, whose will 
 was quite as resolute as his own. 
 
 "And ye think I m goin* at your word I 
 that s been in the family since Master Frank 
 was a baby ?" 
 
 "I am sorry for you, Katy," said Mr. Cra 
 ven, in triumphant magnanimity. " But I 
 cannot permit a servant to remain in my 
 house who is guilty of the gross impropriety 
 of insulting me." 
 
 "I know why you want to get rid of me," 
 said Katy, nodding her head vigorously. 
 
 " Why ?" asked Craven, with some curi 
 osity. 
 
 " You want to p ison the dog." 
 
 5 
 
66 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 Mr. Craven started. How had his secret 
 leaked out? 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " Mane ! I mane that I saw you lavin the 
 p isoned mate for the dog three days agone, 
 and if it hadn t been for me he d have eaten 
 it, and the poor creetur would be stiff in 
 death." 
 
 " He did eat it. I saw him," said Mr. Cra 
 ven, hastily. 
 
 " No, he didn t. It wasn t the same mate !" 
 said Katy, triumphantly. 
 
 " What was it, then ?" 
 
 " It was a piece I cut off and carried out to 
 him," said Katy. "The other I wrapped up 
 in a piece of paper, and buried it in the field." 
 
 Mr. Craven s eyes were opened. Pompey s 
 cast-iron constitution was explained. After 
 all, he was not that natural phenomenon 
 which Mr. Craven had supposed him to be. 
 But he was angry at Katy s interference no 
 less. 
 
 "Say no more," he said. "You must go. 
 You have no right to interfere with my 
 plans." 
 
MISS O GKADY S VICTORY. 67 
 
 "Say no more? Won t I be tellin the 
 raisthress and Master Frank how you tried to 
 kill the poor dog, first with p ison, and nixt 
 wid a pistol ?" 
 
 There was something in this speech that 
 made Mr. Craven hesitate and reflect. 
 
 He knew that Katy s revelation would pro 
 voke Frank, and make him an enemy, and he 
 feared the boy s influence on his mother, par 
 ticularly as he was concocting plans for in 
 ducing his wife to place some of her money 
 in his hand under pretext of a new invest 
 ment. He must be careful not to court hos 
 tile influences, and after all, he resolved to 
 bear with Katy, much as he disliked her. 
 
 "On the whole, Katy," he said, after a 
 pause, " I will accept your apology, and you 
 may stay." 
 
 " My apology !" said Katy, in astonish 
 ment, 
 
 " Yes, your explanation. I see your mo 
 tives were good, and I will think no more 
 about it. You had better not mention this 
 matter to Mrs. Craven or Frank, as it might 
 disturb them." 
 
68 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " And won t you try to kill Pomp agin ?" 
 asked Katy. 
 
 " No ; I dislike dogs, especially as they 
 are apt to run mad, but as Frank is attached 
 to Pompey, I won t interfere. You had 
 better take this tumbler and wash it, as it is 
 uninjured." 
 
 "All right, sir," said Katy, who felt that 
 she had gained a victory, although Mr. Craven 
 assumed that it was his. 
 
 " I am very glad you are so devoted to your 
 mistress," said Mr. Craven, who had assumed 
 his old suavity. " I shall propose to her to 
 increase your wages." 
 
 " He s a mighty quare man !" thought the 
 bewildered Katy, as she hurried back to her 
 work, followed by Pompey. 
 
FRANK IS OBSTINATE. 69 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FRANK IS OBSTINATE. 
 
 MR. CRAVEN had as yet gained nothing 
 from his marriage. He was itching to 
 get possession of his wife s property. Then 
 his next step would be Frank s more consid 
 erable property. He was beginning to be 
 low in pocket, and in the course of a month 
 or so Mr. Green s note for six hundred dollars 
 would fall due. He knew enough of that 
 estimable gentleman to decide that it must be 
 met, and, of course, out of his wife s money. 
 
 "My dear," he said one day, after break 
 fast, Frank being on his way to school, " I 
 believe I told you before our marriage that I 
 had twenty thousand dollars invested in Lake 
 Superior mines." 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Craven, I remember it." 
 
 " It is a very profitable investment," con- 
 
70 FEANK HUXTER S PERIL. 
 
 tinued her husband. " What per cent, do you 
 think it pays me ?" 
 
 " Ten per cent.," guessed Mrs. Craven. 
 
 " More than that. During the last year it 
 has paid me twenty per cent." 
 
 "That is a great deal," said his wife, in 
 surprise. 
 
 " To be sure it is, but not at all uncom 
 mon. You, I suppose, have not got more 
 than seven or eight per cent, for your 
 money ?" 
 
 " Only six per cent." 
 
 Mr. Craven laughed softly, as if to say, 
 " What a simpleton you must be !" 
 
 " I didn t know about these investments," 
 said his wife. " I don t know much about 
 business." 
 
 " No, no. I suppose not. Few women do. 
 Well, my dear, the best thing you can do is 
 to empower me to invest your money for you 
 in future." 
 
 " If you think it best," said Mrs. Craven. 
 
 " Certainly ; it is my business to invest 
 money. And, by the way, the income of 
 Frank s property is paid to you, I believe." 
 
FRANK IS OBSTINATE. 71 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He does not come into possession till 
 twenty-one." 
 
 " That was his father s direction." 
 
 " And a very proper one. He intended that 
 you should have the benefit of the income, 
 which is, of course, a good deal more than 
 Frank needs till he comes of age." 
 
 " I thought perhaps I ought to save up the 
 surplus for Frank," said Mrs. Craven, hesi 
 tating. 
 
 "That is not necessary. Frank is amply 
 provided for. He might be spoiled by too 
 much money." 
 
 " I don t think so. Frank is an excellent 
 boy," said his mother, warmly. 
 
 " So he is," said Mr. Craven. " He has a 
 noble, generous disposition, and for that very 
 reason is more liable to be led astray." 
 
 " I hope he won t be led astray. I should 
 feel wretched if I thought anything would 
 befall him," said his mother, shuddering. 
 
 " We will look after him ; we will see that 
 he goes straight," said Mr. Craven, cheerfully. 
 " But I wanted to suggest, my dear, that it 
 
72 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 would be proper that I should be appointed 
 joint guardian with you/ 
 
 "I am not sure whether Frank will like 
 it," said his mother, who was aware that 
 Frank, though scrupulously polite to his step 
 father, had no cordial liking or respect for 
 him. 
 
 " As to that, my dear, I count upon you ex 
 erting your influence in the matter. If you 
 recommend it he will yield." 
 
 " Don t you think it just as well as it is?" 
 said Mrs. Craven, hesitatingly. " Of course, 
 we shall go to you for counsel and advice in 
 anything important." 
 
 " You don t seem to have confidence in 
 me," said Mr. Craven, with an injured air. 
 
 " I hope you won t think that, Mr. Craven," 
 said his wife, hastily. 
 
 "How can I help it? You know my in 
 terest in Frank, yet you are unwilling to have 
 me associated in the guardianship." 
 
 "I didn t say I objected. I said Frank 
 might." 
 
 " You are not willing to urge him to favor 
 the measure." 
 
FRANK IS OBSTINATE. 73 
 
 "You misunderstand me. Yes, I will," 
 said yielding Mrs. Craven. 
 
 " Thank you, my dear," said Mr. Craven, 
 with one of his most unctuous smiles. "I was 
 quite sure you would do me justice in the end. 
 By the way, what disposition is made of 
 Frank s property if he does not live to come 
 of age?" 
 
 " You you don t think he is likely to 
 be taken away ?" said Mrs. Craven, in dis 
 tress. 
 
 " You are a goose," said her husband, 
 laughing softly. " Of course not. But then 
 we are all mortal. Frank is strong, and will, 
 I hope, live to smooth our dying pillows. But, 
 of course, however improbable, the contin 
 gency is to be thought of." 
 
 " I believe the property comes to me in 
 that case, but I am sure I should not live to 
 enjoy it." 
 
 "My dear, don t make yourself miserable 
 about nothing. Our boy is strong, and has 
 every prospect of reaching old age. But it 
 is best to understand clearly how matters 
 stand. By the way, you need not say any- 
 
74 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 thing about the guardianship to him till I tell 
 you." 
 
 Mrs. Craven not only complied with this 
 request, but she surrendered to Mr. Craven 
 the entire control of her money within an 
 hour. She raised one or two timid objec 
 tions, but these were overruled by her hus 
 band, and in the end she yielded. Mr. 
 Craven was now in funds to pay the note 
 held by Job Green, and this afforded him no 
 little relief. 
 
 A few evenings later, Frank was about to 
 take his cap and go out, when Mr. Craven 
 stopped him. 
 
 " Frank," he said, " if you have no impor 
 tant engagement, your mother and I desire 
 to speak to you on a matter of some conse 
 quence." 
 
 " I was only going to call on one of my 
 friends," said Frank. " I will defer that and 
 hear what you have to say." 
 
 " Thank you," said Mr. Craven, smiling 
 sweetly. " I wished to speak to you on the 
 subject of your property." 
 
 " Very well, sir." 
 
FEANK IS OBSTINATE. 75 
 
 "Your mother is your guardian, she tells 
 me." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " The responsibilities of a guardian are 
 very great," proceeded Mr. Craven, leaning 
 back upon his chair. " Naturally there are 
 some of them to which a woman cannot at 
 tend as well as a man." 
 
 Frank began to understand what was 
 corning, and, as it was not to his taste, he de 
 termined to declare himself at once. 
 
 " I couldn t have a better guardian than my 
 mother," he said. 
 
 " Of course not. (I am afraid I shall find 
 trouble with him, thought Mr. Craven.) Of 
 course not, You couldn t possibly find any 
 one as much interested in your welfare as 
 your mother." 
 
 " Certainly not, sir." 
 
 " As your step-father, I naturally feel a 
 strong interest in you, but I do not pretend 
 to have the same interest as your mother." 
 
 " I never expected you would, sir," said 
 Frank, " and I don t want you to," he added, 
 to himself. 
 
76 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " But your mother is not used to business, 
 and, as I said, the responsibilities of a guar 
 dian are great." 
 
 " What do you propose, sir ?" asked Frank, 
 gazing at his step-father steadily. " Do you 
 recommend me to change guardians to give 
 up my mother ?" 
 
 " No, by no means. It is best that your 
 mother should retain the guardianship." 
 
 " Then, sir, I don t quite understand what 
 you mean." 
 
 " I mean to suggest that it would be well 
 for another to be associated in the guardian 
 ship, who might relieve your mother of a part 
 of her cares and responsibilities." 
 
 " I suppose you mean yourself, sir," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " Yes ahem !" answered Mr. Craven, 
 coughing softly, "as your step-father, it would 
 naturally occur to your mind that I am the 
 most suitable person. Your mother thinks as 
 I do." 
 
 " Do you want Mr. Craven to be guardian 
 with you, mother?" asked Frank, turning to 
 his mother. 
 
FRANK IS OBSTINATE. 77 
 
 " Mr. Craven thinks it best," said his mother, 
 in a little embarrassment. "He knows more 
 about business matters than I do, and I have 
 no doubt he is right." 
 
 Frank understood that it was entirely Mr. 
 Craven s idea, and something made it very 
 repugnant to him. He did not want to be 
 under the control of that man. Though be 
 knew nothing to his disadvantage, lie dis 
 trusted him. He had never ceased to regret 
 that his mother married him, and he meant 
 to have as little to do with him as politeness 
 would permit. 
 
 He answered, therefore : 
 
 " I hope, Mr. Craven, that you won t be 
 offended if I say that I don t wish any change 
 in the guardianship. If another were to be 
 added, I suppose it would be proper that you 
 should be the one, but I am content with my 
 mother as guardian, and wish no other." 
 
 " I am afraid," said Mr. Craven, with a soft 
 ness of tone which by no means accorded with 
 his inward rage, "that you are unmindful of 
 the care the sole guardianship will impose on 
 your mother." 
 
78 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Has it been much care for you, mother ?" 
 asked Frank. 
 
 " Not yet," said Mrs. Craven, hesitating, 
 " but perhaps it may." 
 
 " I suppose Mr. Craven will always be ready 
 to give you advice if you need it," said Frank, 
 though the suggestion was not altogether to 
 his taste, " but I would rather have you only 
 as my guardian." 
 
 "Well, let us drop the subject," said Mr. 
 Craven, gayly. " As you say, I shall always 
 be ready to advise, if called upon. Now, my 
 dear Frank, go to your engagement, I won t 
 detain you any longer." 
 
 But when Mr. Craven was alone, his coun 
 tenance underwent a change. 
 
 " That boy is a thorn in my side," he mut 
 tered, with compressed lips. " Sooner or later, 
 he must be in my power, and his fortune un 
 der iny control. Patience, Richard Craven ! 
 A dull-witted boy cannot defeat your plans !" 
 
A STRANGER APPEARS ON THE SCENE. 79 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A STRANGER APPEARS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 TTOW do you like your step-father^ 
 JLL Frank," asked Ben Cameron as the 
 two boys were walking home from school to 
 gether. 
 
 " You mean Mr. Craven ?" 
 
 " Of course. He is your step-father, isn t 
 he?" 
 
 " I suppose he is, but I don t like to think 
 of him in that way." 
 
 " Is he disagreeable, then ?" 
 
 " He treats me well enough," said Frank, 
 slowly ; u but, for all that, I dislike him. His 
 appearance, his manners, his soft voice and 
 stealthy ways are all disagreeable to me. As 
 he is my mother s husband, I wish I could 
 like him, but I can t." 
 
 " I don t wonder at it, Frank. I don t fancy 
 him myself." 
 
80 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Somehow, everything seems changed since 
 he came. He seems to separate my mother 
 from me." 
 
 " Well, Frank, I suppose you must make 
 the best of it. If he doesn t interfere with 
 you, that is one good thing. Some step-fathers 
 would, you know." 
 
 " He hasn t, so far ; but sometimes I fear 
 that he will in the future." 
 
 " Have you any reason for thinking so?" 
 
 "A day or two since he called me, just as 
 I was leaving the house to come and see 
 you, and asked if I were willing to have him 
 join with my mother as my guardian." 
 
 " What did you say ?" 
 
 " That I didn t want any change. He said 
 the responsibility was too great for a woman." 
 
 " What answer did you make?" 
 
 " That my mother could get as much help 
 and advice as she needed, even if she were 
 sole guardian." 
 
 " Did he seem angry ?" 
 
 " Not at all. He turned it off very pleas 
 antly, and said he would not detain me any 
 longer." 
 
A STEANGER APPEARS ON THE SCENE. 81 
 
 " Then why should you feel uneasy ?" 
 
 " I think there s something underhand 
 about him. He seems to me like a cat that 
 purrs and rubs herself against you, but has 
 claws concealed, and is open to scratch when 
 she gets ready." 
 
 Ben laughed. 
 
 " The comparison does you credit, Frank," 
 said he. " There s something in it, too. Mr. 
 Craven is like a cat that is, in his ways ; but 
 I hope he won t show his claws." 
 
 " When he does I shall be ready for him," 
 said Frank, stoutly. " I am not afraid of 
 him, but I don t like the idea of having such 
 a person in the family." 
 
 They had arrived at this point in the con 
 versation when they were met by a tall man, 
 of dark complexion, who was evidently a 
 stranger in the village. In a small town of 
 two thousand inhabitants,] where every person 
 is known to every other, a strange face at 
 tracts attention, and the boys regarded this 
 man with curiosity. He paused as they 
 neared him, and, looking from one to the 
 other, inquired : 
 
82 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Can you direct me to Mr. Craven s 
 office? 7 
 
 The two boys exchanged glances. 
 
 Frank answered : 
 
 " It is that small building on the left-hand 
 side of the street, but I am not sure whether 
 he is there yet." 
 
 Curious to know how the boy came to 
 know so much of Mr. Craven s movements, 
 the stranger said : 
 
 " Do you know him ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir ; he is my step-father." 
 
 It was the first time he had ever made the 
 statement, and, true as he knew it to be, he 
 made it with rising color and a strange re 
 luctance. 
 
 " Oh, indeed !" returned the stranger, look 
 ing very much surprised. " He is your step 
 father ?" 
 
 " Yes ; he married my mother," said Frank, 
 hurriedly. 
 
 "Then you think he may not have come 
 to the office yet ?" 
 
 "There he is, just opening the door," said 
 Ben, pointing to Mr. Craven, who, unaware 
 
A STRANGER APPEARS ON THE SCENE. 83 
 
 of the interest his appearance excited, was 
 just opening the door of the office, in which 
 he was really beginning to do a little business. 
 His marriage to a woman of property, and 
 the reports which had leaked out that he had 
 a competence of his own, had inspired a de 
 gree of confidence in him which before had 
 not existed. 
 
 " Thank you," said the stranger. " As he 
 is in, I will call upon him." 
 
84 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 A CONSPIRACY AGAINST FRANK. 
 
 S 1 
 
 * * he s married again, the sly villain !" 
 
 muttered the stranger, as, after leav 
 ing the boys, he proceeded on his way to Mr. 
 Craven s office. " That will he good news for 
 my sister, won t it ? And so thai s his step 
 son ? A nice-looking, well-dressed hoy. 
 Likely Craven has feathered his nest, and 
 married a fortune. If so, all the better. I 
 may get a few feathers for my own nest, if I 
 work my cards right." 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Craven had seated himself 
 at an office table, and was looking over a 
 paper of instructions, having been commis 
 sioned to write a will for one of the town s 
 people. He had drawn out a printed form, 
 and had just dipped his pen in the ink, when 
 a knock was heard at the outer door that 
 opened upon the street. 
 
A CONSPIRACY AGAINST FRANK. 85 
 
 " I suppose it s Mr. Negley, come for the 
 will. He ll have to wait," thought Craven, 
 and as the thought passed through his mind, 
 he said, "Come in !" 
 
 The door opened. 
 
 He mechanically raised his eyes, and his 
 glance rested upon the man whom we have 
 introduced in the last chapter. 
 
 A remarkable change came over Mr. Cra 
 ven s face. First surprise, then palpable dis 
 may, drove the color from his cheeks, and he 
 stood up in silent consternation. 
 
 The other appeared to enjoy the sensation 
 caused by his arrival, and laughed. 
 
 " Why, man, you look as if I were a ghost. 
 No such thing. I m alive and well, and de 
 lighted to see you again," he added, signifi 
 cantly. " By Jove, I ve had hard work finding 
 you, but here I am, you see." 
 
 " How did you find me?" asked Cra 
 ven, huskily. 
 
 " How did I find you ? Well, I got upon 
 your tracks in New York. Never mind how, 
 as long as I have found you. Well, have you 
 no welcome for me ?" 
 
86 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 "What do you want of me?" asked Mr. 
 Craven, sullenly. 
 
 " What do I want of you ?" echoed the 
 other, with a laugh. " Why, considering the 
 relationship between us " 
 
 Mr. Craven s pallor increased, and he 
 shifted his position uneasily. 
 
 " Considering the relationship between us, 
 it is only natural that I should want to see 
 you." 
 
 He paused, but Mr. Craven did not offer 
 any reply. 
 
 " By the way, your wife is very uneasy 
 at your long absence," continued the new 
 comer, fixing his eyes steadily upon the shrink 
 ing Craven. 
 
 " For Heaven s sake stop, or speak lower !" 
 exclaimed Craven, exhibiting the greatest 
 alarm. 
 
 " Come, now, Craven, is any allusion to 
 your wife so disagreeable ? Considering 
 that she is my sister, it strikes me that I 
 shall have something to say on that sub- 
 ject." 
 
 " Don t allude to her, Sharpley," said the 
 
A CONSPIRACY AGAINST FRANK. 87 
 
 other, doggedly. " I shall never see her 
 again. We we didn t live happily, and are 
 better apart. 7 
 
 " You may think so, but do you think I am 
 going to have my sister treated in this way 
 deserted and scorned ?" 
 
 " I can t help it," was the dogged reply. 
 
 " You can t? Why not?" 
 
 And the man addressed as Sharpley fixed 
 his eyes upon his brother-in-law. 
 
 " Why do you come here to torment me ?" 
 said Craven, fiercely, brought to bay. " Why 
 can t you leave me alone? Your sister is 
 better off without me. I never was a model 
 husband." 
 
 " That is where you are right, Craven ; 
 but, hark you !" he added, bending forward, 
 " do you think we are going to stand by and 
 do nothing while you are in the enjoyment of 
 wealth and the good things of life?" 
 
 "Wealth? What do you mean?" stam 
 mered Craven. 
 
 The other laughed slightly. 
 
 " Do you take me for a mole? Did you 
 suppose I wouldn t discover that you are mar- 
 
88 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 ried again, and that your marriage has 
 brought you money ?" 
 
 " So you have found it out?" said Mr. Cra 
 ven, whose worst apprehensions were now 
 confirmed. 
 
 " I met your step-son a few minutes ago, 
 and he directed me here." 
 
 "Did you tell him?" asked Craven, in 
 dismay. 
 
 " Tell him ? No, not yet. I wanted to see 
 you first." 
 
 " I m glad you didn t. He doesn t like iuc. 
 It would be all up with me if you had." 
 
 " Don t be frightened, Craven. It may 
 not be so bad as you think. We may be 
 able to make some friendly arrangement. 
 Tell me about it, and then we ll consult to 
 gether. Only don t leave anything untold. 
 Situated as we are, I demand your entire con 
 fidence." 
 
 Here the door opened, and Mr. Negley ap 
 peared. 
 
 " Have you finished that ere dokkyment, 
 Mr. Craven ?" asked the old-fashioned farmer, 
 to whom the name belonged. 
 
A CONSPIRACY AGAINST FRANK. 89 
 
 " No, Mr. Negley," said Mr. Craven, with 
 his customary suavity, " not yet, I am sorry 
 to say. I ve had a great deal to do, and I 
 am even now consulting with a client on an 
 important matter. Could you wait till to- 
 
 " Sartain, Mr. Craven. I ain t in no hurry. 
 Only, as I was passing, I thought I d just in 
 quire. Good mornin , squire." 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Negley." 
 
 " So you are in the lawyer s line again, 
 Craven?" said Sharpley. "You are turning 
 to good account that eight months you spent 
 in a law office in the old country?" 
 
 " Yes, I do a little in that line." 
 
 " Now, tell me all about this affair of yours. 
 I don t want to ruin you. May he we can 
 make an arrangement that will be mutually 
 satisfactory." 
 
 Thus adjured, and incited from time to 
 time by questions from his visitor, Mr. Craven 
 unfolded the particulars of his situation. 
 
 " Well, the upshot of it is, Craven, that 
 you ve feathered your nest, and made yourself 
 comfortable. That s all very well ; but it seems 
 
90 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 to me, that your English wife has some rights 
 in the matter." 
 
 " You need not tell her," said Craven, has 
 tily. " What good will it do ?" 
 
 " It won t do you any good, but it may ben 
 efit her and me." 
 
 " How can it benefit her and me? How 
 can it benefit either of you, if I am found 
 out, and obliged to flee from this place into 
 penury ?" 
 
 " Why, not exactly in that way. In fact, 
 I may feel disposed to let you alone, if you ll 
 come down handsomely. The fact is, Craven, 
 my circumstances are not over prosperous, and 
 of course I don t forget that I have a rich 
 brother-in-law." 
 
 " You call me rich. You are mistaken. I 
 get a living, but the money is my wife s." 
 
 " If it is hers, you can easily get possession 
 of it." 
 
 "Only one-third of it belongs to her. Two- 
 thirds belong to that boy you met my step 
 
 son." 
 
 Suppose he dies ?" 
 It goes to my wife," 
 
A CONSPIEACY AGAINST FRANK. 91 
 
 "Then you have some chance of it." 
 
 " Not much ; he is a stout, healthy boy." 
 
 " Look here, Craven, you must make up 
 your mind to do something for me. Give me 
 a thousand dollars down." 
 
 " I couldn t without my wife finding out. 
 Besides you would be coming back for more." 
 
 " Well, perhaps I might," said the other, 
 coolly. 
 
 " You would ruin me," exclaimed Craven, 
 sullenly. " Do you think I am made of 
 money ?" 
 
 " I know this that it will be better for you 
 to share your prosperity with me, and so in 
 sure not being disturbed. Half a loaf is better 
 than no bread." 
 
 Mr. Craven fixed his eyes upon the table, 
 seriously disturbed. 
 
 " How much is the boy worth ?" asked 
 Sharpley, after a pause. 
 
 " Forty thousand dollars." 
 
 "Forty thousand dollars!" exclaimed 
 Sharpley, his eyes sparkling with greed. 
 " That s splendid." 
 
 " For him, yes. It doesn t do me any good." 
 
92 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Didn t you say, that in the event of his 
 death the money would go to your wife ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " He may die." 
 
 " So may we. That s more likely. He s a 
 stout boy, as you must have observed, since 
 you have met him." 
 
 " Life is uncertain. Suppose he should have 
 a fever, or meet with an accident." 
 
 " Suppose he shouldn t." 
 
 " My dear Craven," said Sharpley, drawing 
 his chair nearer that of his brother-in-law, 
 " it strikes me that you are slightly obtuse, 
 and you a lawyer, too. Fie upon you ! My 
 meaning is plain enough, it strikes me." 
 
 "What do you mean?" inquired Craven, 
 coloring, and shifting uneasily in his chair. 
 " You wouldn t have me murder him, would 
 you?" 
 
 "Don t name such a thing. I only mean, 
 that if we got a good opportunity to expose 
 him to some sickness, and he happened to die 
 of it, it would be money in our pockets." 
 
 Craven looked startled, and his sallow face 
 betrayed by its pallor his inward disturbance. 
 
A CONSPIRACY AGAINST FRANK. 93 
 
 "That is absurd," he said. "There is no 
 chance of that here. If the boy should die 
 I shouldn t mourn much, but he may live to 
 eighty. There s not much chance of any pes 
 tilence reaching this town." 
 
 " Perhaps so," said the other, shrugging 
 his shoulders, " but then this little village isn t 
 the whole world." 
 
 " You seem to have some plan to propose," 
 said Mr. Craven, eagerly. "What is it?" 
 
 " I propose," said Sharpley, " that you send 
 the boy to Europe with me." 
 
 " To Europe ?" 
 
 " Yes ; on a traveling tour, for his educa 
 tion, improvement, anything. Only send him 
 under my paternal care, and possibly he 
 might never come back." 
 
 Mr. Craven was not a scrupulous man, and 
 this proposal didn t shock him as it should 
 have done, but he was a timid man, and he 
 could not suppress a tremor of alarm. 
 
 " But isn t there danger in it ?" he faltered. 
 
 " Not if it is rightly managed," said 
 Sharpley. 
 
 "And how do you mean to manage it?" 
 
94 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Can t tell yet," answered the other, care 
 lessly. "The thought has just occurred to 
 me, and I have had no time to think it over. 
 But that needn t trouble you. You can safely 
 leave all that to me." 
 
 Mr. Cm ven leaned his head on his hand 
 and reflected. Here was a way out of two 
 embarrassments. This plan offered him 
 present safety and a continuance of his good 
 fortune, with the chance of soon obtaining 
 control of Frank s fortune. 
 
 "Well, what do you say?" asked Sharp- 
 ley. 
 
 "I should like it well enough, but I 
 don t know what my wife and the boy will 
 say." 
 
 " Has Mrs. Craven the second a will of 
 her own ?" 
 
 " No, she is very yielding." 
 
 " Doesn t trouble you, eh ? By the way, 
 what did she see in you, Craven, or my sister 
 either, for that matter, to attract her ? There s 
 no accounting for tastes, surely." 
 
 " That is not to the point," said Craven, 
 impatiently. 
 
A CONSPIRACY AGAINST FEANK. 05 
 
 " You are right. That is not to the point. 
 Suppose we come to the point, then. If your 
 wife is not strong-minded she can be brought 
 over, and the boy, if he is like most boys, 
 will be eager to embrace the chance of visiting 
 Europe, say for three months. It will be 
 best, I suppose, that the offer should come 
 from me. I ll tell you what you must do. 
 Invite me to supper to-night and offer me 
 a bed, and I ll lay the train. Shall it be 
 so?" 
 
 " Agreed," said Craven, and thus the 
 iniquitous compact was made. 
 
 "Frank," said Mr. Craven, "this is my 
 friend, Colonel Sharpley. I believe you have 
 already made his acquaintance. ? 
 
96 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 TKAPPED. 
 
 "MRS. CRAVEN, I have pleasure in 
 JA_L introducing to you one of my oldest 
 friends, Colonel Sharpley." 
 
 As this was the first friend of her husband 
 who had come in her way, his wife regarded 
 the stranger with some curiosity, which, how 
 ever, was veiled by her quiet manner. 
 
 " I am glad to meet a friend of yours, Mr. 
 Craven/ she said, offering her hand. 
 
 " I have invited the colonel to supper, and 
 pass the night with us, Mary." 
 
 " I am glad you did so. I will see that a 
 chamber is got ready." 
 
 After she had left the room, Sharpley 
 
 no accounting for tastes, surely." 
 
 " That is not to the point," said Craven, 
 mpatiently. 
 
TRAPPED. 97 
 
 " It is the best in the village," said Craven, 
 complacently. 
 
 " Evidently, your predecessor had taste as 
 well as money. It is a pity that there is a 
 little legal impediment in the way of your 
 permanent enjoyment of all this luxury." 
 
 "Hush, hush, Sharpley !" said Mr. Craven, 
 nervously. u You might be heard." 
 
 "So I might, and as that would interfere 
 with my plans as well as yours, I will be care 
 ful. By the way, that s a good idea making 
 me a colonel. It sounds well Colonel Sharp- 
 ley, eh ? Let me see. I ll call myself an 
 officer in the English service served for a 
 while in the East Indies, and for a short 
 period in Canada." 
 
 " Whatever you like. But here s my step 
 son coming in." 
 
 " The young man I m to take charge of. 
 I must ingratiate myself with him." 
 
 Here Frank entered the room. He paused 
 when he saw the stranger. 
 
 "Frank," said Mr. Craven, "this is my 
 friend, Colonel Sharpley. I believe you have 
 already made his acquaintance/ 7 
 
98 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Yes, sir, I saw him this morning." 
 
 " I didn t suspect when I first spoke to you 
 that you were related to my old friend, Cra 
 ven," said Sharpley, smiling. 
 
 Mr. Sharpley was a man not overburdened 
 in fact, not burdened at all with principle, 
 but he could make himself personally more 
 agreeable than Mr. Craven, nor did Frank 
 feel for him the instinctive aversion which he 
 entertained for his step-father. The stranger 
 had drifted about the world, and, being natu 
 rally intelligent and observing, he had accu 
 mulated a fund of information which enabled 
 him to make himself agreeable to those who 
 were unacquainted with his real character. 
 He laid himself out now to entertain Frank. 
 
 " Ah, my young friend," he said, " how I 
 envy you your youth and hope. I am an old, 
 battered man of the world, who has been 
 everywhere, seen a great deal, and yet, in all 
 the wide world, I am without a home." 
 
 " Have you traveled much, sir," asked 
 Frank. 
 
 "I have been in Europe, Asia, Africa, 
 America and Australia," answered Sharpley. 
 
TRAPPED. 99 
 
 " Yes, Botany Bay," thought Craven, but 
 it was not his cue to insinuate suspicions of 
 his friend. 
 
 " How much you must have seen !" said 
 Frank, interested. 
 
 " You re right ; I ve seen a great deal." 
 
 "Have you ever been in Switzerland?" 
 
 " Yes, I ve clambered about among the 
 Alps. I tried to ascend Mont Blanc, but had 
 not endurance enough." 
 
 Frank was interested. He had read books 
 of travels, and he had dreamed of visiting 
 foreign lands. He had thought more than 
 once how much he should enjoy roaming 
 about in countries beyond the sea, but 
 he had never, in his quiet country home, 
 even met one who had made this journey, 
 and he eagerly listened to what Colonel 
 Sharpley had to tell him about these distant 
 lands. 
 
 Here supper was announced, and the four 
 sat down. 
 
 Do you take your tea strong, Colonel 
 Sharpley?" asked Mrs. Craven. 
 
 " As strong as you can make it. Tea is a 
 
100 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL, 
 
 favorite drink of mine. I have drunk it in 
 its native land in fact, everywhere." 
 
 "Have you been in China, Colonel Sharp- 
 ley?" 
 
 " Yes, madam. I spent three months 
 there learned to talk broken China a little," 
 he added, with a laugh. " Yes, Mrs. Craven, 
 I have been a rover." 
 
 " He has been telling me about Switzer 
 land, mother," said Frank, eagerly. "How 
 splendid it must be to travel there." 
 
 " I am going back to Europe in three or 
 four weeks," said Sharpley, ready now to 
 spring his trap. "Were you ever there, Mrs. 
 Craven ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; I am timid about traveling." 
 
 " I was going to ask why you and my friend 
 Craven didn t pull up stakes and go abroad 
 for a time ?" 
 
 " I am afraid I am getting too old to travel, 
 Colonel Sharpley." 
 
 " Old ! my dear madam ? Why you re in 
 the prime of life. If you are getting old, 
 what shall I say about myself?" 
 
 " I suppose I am not quite venerable," said 
 
TRAPPED. 101 
 
 Mrs. Craven, smiling, " but I should shrink 
 from the voyage." 
 
 "I may persuade her to go some time," 
 said Mr. Craven, with a glance at his wife. 
 "Just now it would be a little inconvenient 
 for me to leave my business." 
 
 " I fancy this young man would like to 
 go," said Sharpley, turning to Frank. 
 
 " Indeed I should," said Frank, eagerly. 
 " There is nothing in the world I should like 
 better." 
 
 "Come, I have an idea to propose," said 
 Sharpley, as if it had struck him ; "if you ll 
 let him go with me, I will look after him, and 
 at the end of three months, or any other 
 period you may name, I will put him on 
 board a steamer bound for New York. It will 
 do him an immense deal of good." 
 
 Mrs. Craven was startled by the sudden 
 ness of the proposal. 
 
 " How could he come home alone?" she said. 
 
 " He couldn t leave the steamer till it 
 reached New York, and I am sure he could 
 find his way home from there, or you could 
 meet him at the steamer." 
 
102 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Ob, mother, let me go ! said Frank, all 
 on fire with the idea. 
 
 " It would seem lonely without you, Frank." 
 
 " I would write twice three times a week, 
 and I should have ever so much to tell you 
 after I got home." 
 
 "What do you think, Mr. Craven?" asked 
 his wife, hesitatingly. 
 
 " I think it a very good plan, Mary, hut, as 
 you know, I don t wish to interfere with your 
 management of Frank. If you say yes, I 
 have no sort of objection." 
 
 Just at that moment Frank felt more kindly 
 toward Mr. Craven than he had ever done 
 before. He could not, of course, penetrate 
 the treachery which he meditated. 
 
 " I hardly know what to say. Do you 
 think there would be any danger ?" 
 
 " I have great confidence in my friend, 
 Colonel Sharpley. He is an experienced trav 
 eler has been everywhere, as he has told you. 
 I really wish I could go myself in the party." 
 
 This Frank did not wish, though he would 
 prefer to go with Mr. Craven rather than 
 stay at home. 
 
TRAPPED. 103 
 
 " Would it not interrupt his studies?" 
 asked his mother, as a final objection. 
 
 " Summer is near at hand, and he would 
 have a vacation at any rate. He will proba 
 bly study all the better after he returns." 
 
 " That I will," said Frank. 
 
 "Then, if you really think it best, I will 
 consent," said Mrs. Craven. 
 
 Frank was so overjoyed that he jumped 
 from his chair and threw his arms around his 
 mother s neck. A flush of pleasure came to 
 her cheek, and she felt repaid for the sacri 
 fice she must make of Frank s society. She 
 knew beforehand that her husband s com 
 pany would not go far toward compensating 
 that. 
 
 " I congratulate you, my young friend," 
 said Colonel Sharpley (for we may as well 
 address him by his stolen title), "upon the 
 pleasure before you." 
 
 " I am very much obliged to you, sir, for 
 being willing to take so much trouble on my 
 account." 
 
 "No need of thanks on that score. The 
 fact is, I shall enjoy the trip all the more 
 
104 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 in watching your enjoyment. I am rather 
 blase myself, but it will be a treat to me to 
 see what impressions foreign scenes make on 
 you." 
 
 "How soon do you go, sir?" asked Frank, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Let me see ; this is the fifth. I will en 
 gage passage for the nineteenth that is, if 
 you can get ready at such short notice." 
 
 " No fear of that," said Frank, confidently. 
 
 " He ll be on hand promptly, you may be 
 sure," said Mr. Craven, smiling. " Really, 
 Frank, we shall miss you very much." 
 
 " Thank you, sir," said Frank, feeling al 
 most cordial to his step-father ; " but it won t 
 be long, and I shall write home regularly." 
 
 During the evening Frank kept Sharpley 
 busy telling him about foreign parts. Mr. 
 Craven listened, with a crafty smile, watching 
 him as a spider does an entangled fly. 
 
 " He s trapped !" he said to himself 
 
 Poor Frank ! How little could he read of 
 the future ! 
 
TWO BOY FRIENDS. 105 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 TWO BOY FRIENDS. 
 
 * fc r\ OING to Europe, Frank !" repeated 
 \JT his friend, Ben Cameron, in un 
 bounded astonishment. " I can hardly be 
 lieve it." 
 
 "I can hardly believe it myself; but it s 
 true." 
 
 " How did it come about?" 
 
 " Colonel Sharpley, Mr. Craven s friend, is 
 going, and offered to take me." 
 
 "Didn t Mr. Craven object? 
 
 " No ; why should he ? He thought it was 
 a good plan." 
 
 " And your mother ?" 
 
 " She was a little afraid at first that some 
 thing might happen to me; but, as Colonel 
 Sharpley and Mr. Craven were in favor of it, 
 she yielded." 
 
106 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Well, Frank, all I can say is, that I wish 
 I were in your shoes." 
 
 " I wish you were going with me, Ben. 
 Wouldn t it be jolly?" 
 
 " Unfortunately, Frank, I wasn t born with 
 a silver spoon in my mouth, like you. You 
 are the son of rich parents, while my father is 
 a poor carpenter, working by the day." 
 
 " I like you as much as if you were worth 
 half a million, Ben." 
 
 " I know you do, Frank ; but that doesn t 
 give me the half-million. I must postpone 
 going to Europe till I have earned money 
 enough with my own hands." 
 
 " Don t be too sure of that, Ben." 
 
 " What do you mean, Frank ?" 
 
 " I mean this, that when I am twenty-one 
 I come into possession of about forty thousand 
 dollars. Now, the interest on that is two 
 thousand four hundred. I ll invite you to go 
 abroad with me, and spend a year there. If 
 the interest isn t enough to pay our expenses, 
 I will take a few hundred dollars of the prin 
 cipal." 
 
 " That s a generous offer, Frank," said Ben ; 
 
TWO BOY FRIENDS. 107 
 
 "but you don t consider that at that time I 
 shall be a journeyman carpenter, very likely, 
 while you will be a young gentleman, just grad 
 uated from college. You may not want such 
 company then." 
 
 " My dear Ben," said Frank, laying his 
 hand affectionately on the other s shoulder, 
 " if you think I m a snob or likely to become 
 one, say so at once; but I hope you think 
 better of me than to believe that I will ever 
 be ashamed of my dearest friend, even if he 
 is a journeyman carpenter. I should despise 
 myself if I thought such a thing possible." 
 
 " Then I won t think so, Frank." 
 
 "That s right, Ben. We ll be friends for 
 life, or, if we are not, it shall be your fault, 
 not mine. But there s one favor I am going 
 to ask of you." 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 "That while I am gone you will call round 
 often and see mother. She will miss me a 
 great deal, for I have always been with her ? 
 and it will be a pleasure to her to see you, 
 whom she knows to be my dearest friend, 
 and talk with you about me. Will you go ?" 
 
108 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Certainly I will, Frank, if you think she 
 would like to have me." 
 
 " I know she would. You see, Ben, though 
 Mr. Craven and my mother get along well 
 enough, I am sure she doesn t love him. He 
 may be a fair sort of man, and I am bound to 
 say that I have no fault to find with him, but 
 I don t think she finds a great deal of pleasure 
 in his society. Of course, Ben, you won t 
 repeat this ?" 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " And you will call often ?" 
 
 " Yes, Frank." 
 
 "I will tell mother so. Then I shall leave 
 home with a light heart. Just think of it, 
 Ben it s now the sixth of the month, and on 
 the nineteenth I sail. I wish it were to 
 
 morrow." 
 
 " It will soon be here, Frank." 
 
 " Yes, I know it. I am afraid I can t fix my 
 mind on my studies much for the next week or 
 so. I shall be thinking of Europe all the time." 
 
 Meanwhile, Mr. Craven and Colonel Sharp- 
 ley, in the office of the former, were discussing 
 the same subject. 
 
TWO BOY FRIENDS. 109 
 
 " So we have succeeded, Craven," said 
 Sharpley, taking out a cigar and beginning to 
 smoke. 
 
 " Yes, you managed it quite cleverly." 
 
 " Neither Mrs. Craven nor the boy will 
 suspect that you are particularly interested in 
 getting him out of the country." 
 
 " No," said Craven, complacently ; "I be 
 lieve I scored a point in my favor with the 
 boy by favoring the project. Had I opposed 
 it, his mother would not have consented, and 
 he knows it." 
 
 " Yes, that is well. It will avert sus 
 picion hereafter. Now there is an impor 
 tant point to be considered. What funds 
 are you going to place in my hands to start 
 with ?" 
 
 "How much shall you need?" 
 
 (i Well, you must supply me with money at 
 once to pay for tickets say two hundred and 
 fifty dollars, and a bill of exchange for a 
 thousand dollars, to begin with. More can be 
 sent afterward." 
 
 " I hope you won t be too extravagant, 
 Sharpley," said Mr. Craven, a little uneasily. 
 
110 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 Extravagant! Why, zounds, man, two 
 persons can t travel for nothing. Besides, the 
 money doesn t come out of your purse ; it 
 comes out of the boy s fortune." 
 
 "If I draw too much, his mother, who is 
 his guardian, will be startled." 
 
 " Then draw part from her funds. You 
 have the control of those." 
 
 " I don t know as I have a right to." 
 
 " Pooh, man, get over your ridiculous scru 
 ples. I know your real reason. You look 
 upon her money as yours, and don t like to 
 part with any of it. But just consider, if 
 things turn out as we expect, you will shortly 
 get possession of the boy s forty thousand 
 dollars, and can then pay yourself. Don t 
 you see it ?" 
 
 " Perhaps the boy may return in safety," 
 suggested Craven. " In that case our plans 
 are all dished." 
 
 " Don t be afraid of that," said Sharpley, 
 with wicked significance. " I will take care 
 of that." 
 
 " It shall be as you say, then," said Craven. 
 " You shall have two hundred dollars for the 
 
TWO BOY FRIENDS. Ill 
 
 purchase of tickets and a bill of exchange for 
 a thousand." 
 
 " You may as well say three hundred, Cra 
 ven, as there will be some extra preliminary 
 expenses, and you had better give me the 
 money now, as I am going up to the city this 
 morning to procure tickets. * 
 
 " Very well, three hundred let it be." 
 
 " And there s another point to be settled, 
 a very important one, and we may as well 
 settle it now." 
 
 " What is it ?" 
 
 " How much am I to receive in case our 
 plans work well ?" 
 
 "How much?" repeated Craven, hesitatingly. 
 
 " Yes, how much ?" 
 
 " Well, say two thousand dollars." 
 
 " Two thousand devils !" exclaimed Sharp- 
 ley, indignantly. "Why, Craven, you must 
 take me for a fool." 
 
 Mr. Craven hastily disclaimed this imputa 
 tion. 
 
 " You expect me to do your dirty work for 
 any such paltry sum as that ! No ! I don t 
 sell myself so cheap." 
 
112 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Two thousand dollars is a good deal of 
 money." 
 
 " Not for such services as that, especially 
 as it leaves you nineteen times as much. 
 Craven, it won t do !" 
 
 " Say five thousand dollars, then !" said 
 Craven, reluctantly. 
 
 "That s a little more like the figure, but it 
 isn t enough." 
 
 "What will satisfy you, then ?" 
 
 " Ten thousand." 
 
 " Ten thousand !" repeated Craven, in dis 
 may. 
 
 " Yes, ten thousand," said Sharpley, firmly. 
 " Not a cent less." 
 
 Mr. Craven expostulated, but his expostu 
 lations were all in vain. His companion felt 
 that he had him in his power, and was not 
 disposed to abate his demands. Finally the 
 agreement was made. 
 
 "Shall it be in writing, Craven?" asked 
 Sharpley, jocosely. 
 
 "No, no." 
 
 " I didn t know but you might want to bind 
 me. When does the train leave for New York?" 
 
TWO BOY FRIENDS. 113 
 
 " In an hour." 
 
 " Then I ll trouble you to look up three 
 hundred dollars for me, and I ll take it." 
 
 By the ten o clock train Colonel Sharpley 
 was a passenger. Mr. Craven saw him off, 
 and then returned thoughtfully to his office. 
 
 "It s a bold plan," thus he soliloquized; 
 " but I think it will succeed. If it does, I 
 shall no longer be dependent upon the will 
 or caprice of my wife. I shall be my own 
 master, and possessed of an abundant for 
 tune. 
 
 " If only Sharpley and the boy could die 
 together, it would be a great relief. While 
 that man lives I shall not feel wholly safe. 
 However, one at a time. Let the boy be got 
 out of the way, and I will see what can be 
 done for the other. The cards are in my 
 favor, and if I play a crafty game, I shall win 
 in the end." 
 
114 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 JONATHAN TARBOX, OF SQUASHBORO . 
 
 A GREAT steamer was plowing its way 
 through the Atlantic waves. Fifteen 
 hundred miles were traversed, and nearly the 
 same remained to be crossed. The sea had 
 been rough in consequence of a storm, and 
 even now there was considerable motion. A 
 few passengers were on deck, among them our 
 young hero, who felt better in the open air 
 than in the closer atmosphere below ; besides, 
 he admired the grandeur of the sea, spreading 
 out on all sides of him, farther than his eyes 
 could reach. He had got over his first sad 
 ness at parting with his mother, and he was 
 now looking forward with the most eager 
 anticipation to setting foot upon European 
 soil. 
 
 He shared a state-room with Sharpley, but 
 the latter spent little time in the boy s com 
 pany. He had discovered some congenial 
 
JONATHAN TARBOX, OF SQUASHBORO . 115 
 
 company among the other passengers, and 
 spent most of the time smoking with them 
 or playing cards below. Frank did not miss 
 him much, as he found plenty to engage his 
 attention on board. 
 
 As he stood looking out on the wild waste 
 of waters, trying to see if anywhere he could 
 discover another vessel, he was aroused by 
 the salutation : 
 
 " I say, you boy !" 
 
 Looking around, he saw a tall, thin man, 
 dressed in a blue swallow-tail coat with brass 
 buttons, a high standing dickey, and pants 
 three or four inches too short in the legs. He 
 was an admirable specimen of the Yankee 
 as he is represented on the stage an excep 
 tional specimen, though some of our foreign 
 friends may regard him as the rule. It was 
 not the first time Frank had seen him. Two 
 or three times he had appeared at the table; 
 but he had been stricken with seasickness, 
 and for the greater part of the voyage thus 
 far had remained in his state-room. 
 
 "Good morning, sir," said Frank, politely. 
 " You have been seasick, haven t you ?" 
 
116 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 "Seasick I I guess I have," returned the 
 other, energetically. " I thought I was goin 
 to kick the bucket more n once." 
 
 " It is not a very agreeable feeling," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " I guess not, If I d known what kind of 
 a time I was a-goin to have, I wouldn t have 
 left Squashboro , you bet !" 
 
 " Are you from Squashboro ?" asked Frank, 
 amused. 
 
 " Yes, I m from Squashboro , State of 
 Maine, and I wish I was there just now, I 
 tell you." 
 
 " You won t feel so when you get on the 
 other side," said Frank, consolingly. 
 
 "Well, may be not; but I tell you, boy, it 
 feels kinder risky bein out here on the mill- 
 pond with nothin but a plank between you 
 and drownin . I guess I wouldn t make a 
 very good sailor." 
 
 " Are you going to travel much ?" asked 
 Frank. 
 
 " Wai, you see, I go mostly on business. 
 My name s Jonathan Tarbox. My father s 
 name is Elnathan Tarbox. He s got a nice 
 
JONATHAN TARBOX, OF SQUASHBORO . 117 
 
 farm in Squashboro , next to old Deacon 
 Perkins . Was you ever in Squashboro ?" 
 
 " No ; I think not." 
 
 " It s a thrivin place, is Squashboro . Wai, 
 now, I guess you are wonderin what sets me 
 out to go to Europe, ain t you ?" 
 
 " I suppose you want to see the country, 
 Mr. Tarbox." 
 
 " Ef that was all, you wouldn t catch me 
 goin over and spendin a heap of money, all 
 for nothin . That ain t business." 
 
 " Then I suppose you go on business ?" 
 
 " I guess I do. You see I ve invented a 
 new plow, that, I guess, is goin to take the 
 shine off of any other that s in use, and it 
 kinder struck me that ef I should take it to 
 the Paris Exhibition, I might, may be, make 
 somethin out of it. I ve lieerd that they re a 
 good deal behind in farm tools in the old 
 European countries, and I guess I ll open 
 their eyes a little with my plow." 
 
 " I hope you ll succeed, Mr. Tarbox," said 
 Frank, politely. 
 
 " I guess I shall. You see, I ve risked 
 considerable money onto it that is, in trav- 
 
118 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 elin expenses and such like. You see, my 
 Uncle Abner he wasn t my real uncle, that 
 is, by blood, but he was the husband of my 
 Aunt Matilda, my mother s oldest sister 
 didn t have no children of his own, so he left 
 me two thousand dollars in his will." 
 
 Mr. Tarbox paused in order to see what 
 effect the mention of this great inheritance 
 would have upon his auditor. 
 
 " Indeed you were lucky, Mr. Tarbox," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " I guess I felt tickled when I heard of it. 
 I jist kicked like a two-year-old colt. Wai, 
 now, dad wanted me to buy a thirty-acre farm 
 that was for sale about half a mile from his n, 
 but I wouldn t. I d about fetched my plow 
 out right, and I wa n t goin to settle down on 
 no two-thousand-dollar farm. Catch me ! 
 No; I heerd of this Paris Exhibition, and I 
 vowed I d come out here and see what could 
 be did. So here I am. I ain t sorry I cum, 
 though I was about sick enough to die. 
 Thought I should a-turned inside out one 
 night when the vessel was goin every which 
 way." 
 
JONATHAN TARBOX, OF SQUASHBORO*. 119 
 
 " I was sick myself that night," said 
 Frank. 
 
 Mr. Tarbox having now communicated all 
 his own business, naturally felt a degree of 
 curiosity about that of his young companion. 
 
 " Are you goin to the Paris Exhibition ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " I suppose so. It depends upon Colonel 
 Sharpley." 
 
 " The man you re travelin with ? Yes ; I > 
 saw him at the table tall man, black hair, 
 and slim, ain t he?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "So he s a colonel, is he?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did he fight in any of our wars ?" 
 
 " No, he s an Englishman." 
 
 " Oh !" exclaimed Mr. Tarbox, with a 
 slight contempt in his voice. " He wouldn t 
 be no match for an American officer." 
 
 " I don t know," said Frank. 
 
 " Wai, I do the Yankees always could 
 whip any other nation, not but the colonel 
 seems a respectable man, though he s a for 
 eigner." 
 
120 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " It is we who will be foreigners when we 
 get to England," said Frank. 
 
 This aroused the controversial spirit of Mr. 
 Tarbox. 
 
 " Do you mean to say that you and me will 
 turn to furriners ?" he asked, indignantly. 
 
 " We shall be foreigners in England." 
 
 " No, we won t," said Jonathan, energeti 
 cally. " At any rate, I won t. I shall al 
 ways be a free-born American citizen, and 
 a free-born American citizen can t be a fur- 
 
 riner." 
 
 " Not in America, Mr. Tarbox, but in Eng 
 land, I am saying." 
 
 " A free-born American citizen ain t a fur- 
 rincr anywhere," said Mr. Tarbox, emphati 
 cally. 
 
 Frank was amused, but felt it wise to dis 
 continue the discussion. 
 
 " Are you goin to Europe on business ?" 
 inquired the other. 
 
 " No, only for pleasure." 
 
 "Sho! I guess you must have a consid 
 erable pile of money !" suggested Mr. Tarbox, 
 inquiringly. 
 
JONATHAN TAEEOX, OF SQUASHBOKO . 121 
 
 " I have a little money," said Frank, mod 
 estly. 
 
 " Left you ?" 
 
 " Yes, by my father." 
 
 " Wai, so you re in luck, too. Is the colonel 
 related to you ?" 
 
 "No. He is a friend of my step-father." 
 
 " Sho ! So your mother married again. 
 How long are you going to stay on the other 
 side?" 
 
 " Only three or four months, I think." 
 
 " Do you know how much they ask for 
 hoard in Paris?" asked Jonathan, with con 
 siderable interest. 
 
 " No, Mr. Tarbox, I have no idea. I sup 
 pose it s according to what kind of rooms and 
 board you take." 
 
 " Wai, you see, Mr. what did you say 
 your name was ?" 
 
 " Hunter." 
 
 " I once knowed a Hunter I think he was 
 took up for stealing." 
 
 " I don t think he was any relation of mine, 
 Mr. Tarbox." 
 
 " Likely not. What was I a-goin to say ? 
 
122 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 Oh, Mr. Hunter, I ain t very particular about 
 my fodder. I don t mind havin baked beans 
 half the time pork and beans and you 
 know them are cheap." 
 
 " So I ve heard." 
 
 " And as to a room, I don t mind it s bein 
 fixed up with fiddle-de-dee work and sich. Ef 
 it s only comfortable that ll suit me." 
 
 " Then I think you ll be able to get along 
 cheap, Mr. Tarbox." 
 
 " That s what I calc late. Likely I ll see 
 you over there. What s that bell for ?" 
 
 " Lunch." 
 
 " Let s go down. Fact is, I ve been so 
 tarnal sea-sick I m empty as a well-bucket 
 dried in the sun. I guess I can eat to-day." 
 
 They went down to the saloon, and Mr. 
 Tarbox s prophecy was verified. He shoveled 
 in the food with great energy, and did con 
 siderable toward making up for past deficien 
 cies. Frank looked on amused. He was 
 rather inclined to like his countryman, though 
 he acknowledged him to be very deficient in 
 polish and refinements v- 
 
THE LONDON CLERK. 123 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE LOXDOX CLERK. 
 
 JONATHAN TARBOX seemed to have 
 taken a fancy to our hero, for immedi 
 ately after lunch he followed him on deck. 
 
 " I want to show you a drawin of my plow, 
 Mr. Hunter," he said. 
 
 " I should like to see it, Mr. Tarbox, but I 
 am no judge of such things." 
 
 Mr. Tarbox drew a paper from his coat- 
 pocket containing a sketch of his invention. 
 He entered into a voluble explanation of it, 
 to which Frank listened good-naturedly, 
 though without much comprehension. 
 
 "Do you think it ll work ?" asked the in 
 ventor. 
 
 " I should think it might. Mr. Tarbox, but 
 then I don t know much about such things." 
 
 " I don t believe they ve got anything in 
 Europe that ll come up to it," said Mr. Tar- 
 
124 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 box, complacently. " Ef I can get it intro 
 duced into England and France, it ll pay me 
 handsome." 
 
 "Have you shown it to any Englishman 
 
 yet?" 
 
 " No, I haven t. I don t know any." 
 
 " There are some on board this steamer." 
 
 "Are there? Where?" 
 
 " There s one." 
 
 Frank pointed out a young man with weak 
 eyes and auburn hair, a London clerk, who 
 visited the United States on a business errand, 
 and was now returning. He was at this mo 
 ment standing on deck, with his arms folded, 
 looking out to sea. 
 
 " I guess I ll go and speak to him," said 
 Mr. Tarbox. " May be he can help me intro 
 duce my plow in London." 
 
 Frank watched with some amusement the 
 interview between Mr. Tarbox and the Lon 
 don clerk, \\hich he shrewdly suspected was 
 not likely to lead to any satisfactory results. 
 
 Mr. Tarbox approached the Englishman 
 from behind, and unceremoniously slapped 
 him on the back. 
 
THE LONDON CLERK. 125 
 
 The clerk whirled round suddenly and 
 surveyed Mr. Tarbox with mingled surprise 
 and indignation. 
 
 "What did you say?" he inquired. 
 
 " How are you, old boss ?" 
 
 " Do you mean to call me a oss ?" 
 
 " No, I call you a boss. How do you 
 feel ?" 
 
 " I don t feel any better for your hitting 
 me on the back, sir," said the clerk, angrily. 
 
 " Sho ! your back must be w r eak. Been sea 
 sick ?" 
 
 " I have suffered some from sea-sickness," 
 returned the person addressed, with an air of 
 restraint, 
 
 "So have I. I tell you I thought some 
 thing was goin to cave in." 
 
 " Of what earthly interest does he suppose 
 that is to me?" thought the clerk, supercil 
 iously. 
 
 " Fact is," continued Mr. Tarbox, " I d a 
 good deal rather be to home in Squashboro , 
 livin on baked beans, than be here livin on 
 all their chicken fixin s. I suppose you ve 
 heard of Squashboro hain t you ?" 
 
126 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " I can t say I have," said the clerk, coldly, 
 adjusting his eye-glasses, and turning away 
 from his uncongenial companion. 
 
 " Squashboro , State o Maine. It s a pooty 
 smart place got three stores, a blacksmith s 
 shop, a grist mill, and two meetin -houses." 
 
 " Really, my friend/ said the Englishman, 
 " Squashboro may be as smart a place as you 
 say, but it doesn t interest me." 
 
 " Don t it ? That s because you haven t 
 been there. We ve got some smart men in 
 Squashboro ." 
 
 "You don t say so?" said the other, in a 
 sarcastic tone. 
 
 "There s Squire Perkins, selectman, town 
 clerk and auctioneer. You d ought to hear 
 his tongue go when he auctioneers. Then 
 there s Parson Pratt knows a sight of Latin, 
 Greek and Hebrew." 
 
 " Are you one of the smart men of 
 Sqnashboro ?" asked the clerk, in the same 
 tone. 
 
 " Wai, that ain t for me to say," answered 
 Mr. Tarbox, modestly. "You never can tell 
 what may happen, as the hen said when she 
 
THE LONDON 1 CLERK. 127 
 
 hatched a lot of geese. But I ll tell you 
 what, Mr. Englishman " 
 
 " My name is Robinson," interrupted the 
 other, vstiffly. 
 
 " Why, howdy do, Mr. Robinson !" ex 
 claimed Jonathan, seizing the unwilling hand 
 of the other and shaking it vigorously. " My 
 name is Tarbox Jonathan Tarbox, named 
 after my grandfather. His name was Jona 
 than, too." 
 
 " Really, your family history is very inter 
 
 esting. 
 
 " Glad you think so. But as I was sayin , 
 when you spoke about me bein smart, I ve 
 got up a new plow that s goin to take the 
 shine off all that s goin ," and he plunged 
 his hand into his pocket. 
 
 " You don t carry a plow round in your 
 pocket, do you ?" asked Mr. Robinson, arch 
 ing his eyebrows. 
 
 " Come, now, Mr. Robinson, that s a good 
 joke for you. I ve got a plan of it here on 
 this piece of paper. If you ll squat down 
 somewhere, I ll explain it to you." 
 
 " I prefer standing, Mr. Mr. Tarbarrel." 
 
128 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL 
 
 " Tarbox is my name." 
 
 "Ah Tarbox, then. No great differ 
 ence." 
 
 " You see, Mr. Robberson " 
 
 " Robinson, sir." 
 
 "Ah is it?" said Jonathan, innocently. 
 " No great difference." 
 
 Mr. Robinson looked suspicious, but the 
 expression of his companion s face was un 
 changed, and betrayed no malice prepense. 
 
 " I don t know anything about plows," 
 said the clerk, coldly. " You d better show 
 it to somebody else I never saw a plow in 
 my life." 
 
 " Never saw a plow !" ejaculated Jonathan, 
 in the utmost surprise. " Why, where have 
 you been livin all your life ?" 
 
 " In London." 
 
 " And don t they have plows in the 
 stores ?" 
 
 " I suppose they may, but they re not in my 
 line." 
 
 " Why, I knowed a plow as soon as I could 
 walk," said Mr. Tarbox. 
 
 " I leave such things to laborers," said Mr. 
 
THE LONDON CLEEK. 129 
 
 Robinson, superciliously. "I feel no interest 
 in them." 
 
 "Ain t you a laborer yourself?" asked 
 Jonathan. 
 
 "I a laborer!" exclaimed Mr. Robinson, 
 with natural indignation. " Do you mean to 
 insult me?" 
 
 " I never insult nobody. But don t you 
 work for a livin ? That s what I mean." 
 
 " I am engaged in trade," answered the 
 clerk, haughtily. 
 
 " Then you do work for a livin , and so, of 
 course, you re a laborer." 
 
 " Sir, men in my business are not laborers 
 they are merchants." 
 
 " What s the difference ?" 
 
 " I perceive, sir, that you are not accus 
 tomed to society. I excuse you on account of 
 your ignorance." 
 
 " Ignorance ! What do you mean by 
 that ?" demanded Mr. Tarbox, in his turn in 
 dignant. 
 
 Jonathan looked threatening, and as he 
 was physically the Englishman s superior, the 
 latter answered hastily : 
 
130 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " I only meant to say that you were not 
 versed in the requirements and convention 
 alities of society." 
 
 " Is that English ?" asked Jonathan, with a 
 puzzled look. 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 "Well, I never heard sick jawbreakers be 
 fore, but, if it s an apology, it s all right. 
 Won t you look at the plow, then ?" 
 
 " It would be of no use, Mr. Tarbox I 
 don t know about such things, I assure you. 
 You had better show it to somebody else. 
 My life has been passed in London, and I 
 really am profoundly ignorant of agricultural 
 implements." 
 
 As he spoke, he turned away and walked 
 down stairs. Mr. Tarbox followed him with 
 his eyes, ejaculating : 
 
 "That s a queer critter. He s over thirty 
 years old, I guess, and he s never sot eyes on 
 a plow ! He d ought to be ashamed of his 
 
 ignorance." 
 
 Well, Mr. Tarbox," said Frank, when his 
 new friend rejoined him, " did you explain 
 your new invention to the Englishman ?" 
 
THE LONDON CLERK. 131 
 
 " I was goin to, but he said he never seed 
 one in the whole course of his life, and didn t 
 take no interest in them. What do you think 
 of that?" 
 
 " He can t have been in the country much, 
 I should think." 
 
 "He keeps store in London, he says; 
 but he s a poor, ignorant creetur, and he 
 don t want to learn. I wanted to explain all 
 about my invention, but he wouldn t look 
 at it." 
 
 " There are other Englishmen who will 
 take more interest in it, Mr. Tarbox men 
 who live in the country and cultivate the 
 land." 
 
 " I hope so. I hope they ain t all as ig 
 norant as that creetur. Do you think that 
 colonel that you re travelin with would like 
 to look at it?" 
 
 " I don t believe he would, Mr. Tarbox. I 
 don t know much about him, but he seems 
 to me like a man that has always lived in the 
 city." 
 
 " Just as you say. I d just as lief explain 
 it to him." 
 
132 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Are you going to put it in the exhibi 
 tion ?" 
 
 " Yes ; I ve got it packed in my trunk in 
 pieces. I m going to put it together on the 
 other side, and take it along with me." 
 
 This was not the last conversation Frank 
 had with Mr. Tarbox. He always listened 
 with sympathy to the recital of the other s 
 plans and purposes, and Jonathan showed a 
 marked predilection for the society of our 
 young hero. Without knowing it, Frank was 
 making a friend who would be of value in the 
 future. 
 
ME. TARBOX IS OBSTINATE. 133 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 MR. TARBOX LS OBSTINATE 
 
 "TT1ARLY on Wednesday morning, eleven 
 Fj days from the date of sailing, the good 
 steamer which bore our hero as passenger, 
 steamed into the harbor of Liverpool. As may 
 readily be supposed, Frank was on deck, gazing 
 with eager expectation at the great city be 
 fore him, with its solid docks, and the indi 
 cations of its wide-spreading commerce. 
 
 " Well, Frank, we are almost there," said 
 Colonel Sharpley. 
 
 " Yes, sir. Isn t it glorious !" exclaimed our 
 hero, with enthusiasm. 
 
 " I don t see anything glorious," said a 
 voice at his side. 
 
 The speaker was Mr. Tarbox, of Squash- 
 boro , State o Maine. 
 
 "Don t you like it, Mr. Tarbox?" asked 
 Frank. 
 
134 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Liverpool ain t a circumstance to New 
 York," said the Yankee, with patriotic pride. 
 " New York s bister and finer than this town 
 
 oo 
 
 ever will see." 
 
 " I don t care whether it s bigger or not," 
 said Frank. " It s jolly being here. What a 
 splendid time I mean to have." 
 
 " Enjoy yourself while you may, 7 said 
 Sharpley to himself. " Your time is short." 
 
 " What tavern are you goin to put up at ?" 
 asked Mr. Tarbox. 
 
 " I don t know," said Frank. " Perhaps 
 Colonel Sharpley can tell you." 
 
 Sharpley turned around, and looked at the 
 Yankee superciliously. 
 
 " I really have not decided," he said. 
 
 " I thought I d like to put up at the same," 
 said Mr. Tarbox, " seein as I know you. 
 May be we might ride in the same carriage to 
 the tavern." 
 
 " I prefer not to add to my party, sir," said 
 Colonel Sharpley, frigidly. 
 
 " Oh, you needn t flare up," said Jonathan 
 Tarbox, coolly. " I m willin to pay my share 
 of the bill." 
 
MR. TARBOX IS OBSTINATE. 135 
 
 " I must decline making any arrangement 
 with you, sir," said Sharpley as he moved 
 away. 
 
 " Kinder offish, ain t he ?" said Mr. Tarbox, 
 addressing Frank. 
 
 " He seems a little so," said Frank ; " but 
 I hope, Mr. Tarbox, you won t think I am 
 unwilling to be in your company." 
 
 " No, I don t," said the Yankee, cordially. 
 " You ain t a bit stuck up. I d like to let that 
 chap know that I m as good as he is, if he 
 does call himself colonel." 
 
 "No doubt of it." 
 
 "And if I can only make my plow go, 
 Til 1)0 rich some day." 
 
 " I hope you will, Mr. Tarbox." 
 
 " So do I. Do you know what I ll do then ?" 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "You see, there s a gal in our town ; her 
 name is Sally Sprague, and she s about the 
 nicest gal I ever sot eyes on. Ef things goes 
 well with me, that gal will have a chance to 
 be Mrs. Tarbox," said Jonathan, energetically. 
 
 " I hope she will," said Frank, in amused 
 sympathy. 
 
136 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL, 
 
 "I like you I do!" said Mr. Tarbox 
 " Ef ever I git a chance to do you a good 
 turn, I ll do it." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Tarbox. I am sorry 
 Colonel Sharpley was rude to you." 
 
 " I can stand it," said Jonathan ; " and I 
 mean to go to the same tavern, too." 
 
 The custom-house officials came on board 
 and examined the luggage. This over, the 
 passengers were permitted to land. On shore 
 they encountered a crowd of hack men. 
 
 " To the St. George Hotel/ said Colonel 
 Sharpley, selecting one of the number. " Here, 
 Frank, get in." 
 
 Just behind was Mr. Tarbox, standing 
 guard over a dilapidated trunk and a green 
 chest, the latter of which contained his pre 
 cious plow. 
 
 " Have a cab, sir ?" asked a short, stout 
 hackman. 
 
 " What are you goin to charge ?" asked 
 Jonathan. 
 
 " Where do you want me to drive, sir ?" 
 
 " St. George Tavern. Oh, stop a minute. 
 Do they pile up the prices steep there ?" 
 
ME. TAEBOX IS OBSTINATE, 137 
 
 " It s reasonable, sir." 
 
 " That s all I want. I ain t goin to pay no 
 fancy prices. How much are you goin to 
 charge for carryin me there ?" 
 
 " Haifa crown, sir." 
 
 " What in thunder s half a crown ?" 
 
 " Ain t he precious green ?" thought cabby. 
 But he answered, respectfully : 
 
 " It s two-and-six, sir." 
 
 " Two dollars and six cents ?" 
 
 " No, sir ; two shillings and sixpence." 
 
 "It s too much." 
 
 " Eeg lar price." 
 
 " I don t believe it. Here, you other chap," 
 beckoning to another cabman, "what ll you 
 charge to take me to the St. George Tavern ?" 
 
 This brought the first cabby to terms. 
 
 " Jump in, sir. I ll take you round for two 
 shillin s," he said. 
 
 "All right," said Jonathan. " I ll help 
 you with that chist. Now put her over the 
 road. I m hungry, and want some vittles." 
 
 Five minutes after Frank arrived at the 
 St. George with his guardian, Mr. Tarbox 
 drove up, bag and baggage. 
 
138 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " You see I m here most as soon as you," 
 said Tarbox, nodding. " We ain t separated 
 yet. It s a pooty nice tavern, Mr. Sharpley," 
 accosting Frank s guardian with easy forget 
 ful ness of the latter s repellant manner. 
 
 "What is your object in following us, sir?" 
 asked Sharpley, frigidly. 
 
 " You haven t engaged this tavern all to 
 yourself, have you ?" demanded Jonathan. 
 " Ain t it free to other travelers ?" 
 
 Sharpley saw the other had him at advan 
 tage. 
 
 " Didn t you come here because we were 
 here?" he asked. 
 
 "May be I did, and then again may be I 
 didn t," the other replied. "There ain t any 
 law asfin it, is there ?" 
 
 O 
 
 " I should hardly suppose you would wish 
 to thrust yourself into the society of those 
 who don t want you." 
 
 " I won t run up no bills on your account/ 
 said Mr. Tarbox ; "but I m goin just where 
 I please, even if you are there already. Frank 
 here ain t no way troubled about it." 
 
 " Frank, as you call him, is under my 
 
MR. TARBOX IS OBSTINATE. 139 
 
 guardianship/ said Mr. Sharpley, with a 
 sneer. " I don t wish him to associate with 
 improper persons." 
 
 " Do you call me an improper person ?" 
 demanded Mr. Tarbox, offended. 
 
 " You can draw your own inferences, Mr. 
 I really don t know who." 
 
 " Tarbox, of Squashboro , State o Maine." 
 
 " Then, Mr. Tarbox, of Squashboro , State 
 o Maine, I have already wasted as much time 
 as I choose to do on you, and must close the 
 conversation." 
 
 " All right, sir. You d better shut up 
 Frank in a glass case, if you don t want him 
 to associate with any improper persons." 
 
 But Colonel Sharpley had turned on his 
 heel and moved away. 
 
 " I can t have that fellow following us 
 everywhere," he said to himself. " The task 
 I have before me is one which demands 
 secrecy, in order to avert all suspicion in case 
 anything happens. This inquisitive, prying 
 Yankee may spoil all. He won t take a hint, 
 and I suspect it would be dangerous to try a 
 kick. The trouble with these Yankees is 
 
140 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 that they are afraid of nothing, and are bent 
 on carrying out their own purposes, however 
 disagreeable to others. I must ask Frank 
 about this fellow and his plans. 7 
 
 " Frank," he commenced, when they w r ere 
 alone, " I must congratulate you on this 
 Yankee friend of yours. He has fastened on 
 us like a leech." 
 
 " He is a good-natured fellow," said 
 Frank. 
 
 " He is an impudent scoundrel !" said 
 Sharpley, impatiently. 
 
 " Not so bad as that. He is not used to the 
 ways of the world, and he seems to have taken 
 a fancy to me." 
 
 " He ought to see that his company s not 
 wanted." 
 
 " He is not disagreeable to me. I am rather 
 amused by his odd ways and talk." 
 
 " I am not. He is confoundedly dis 
 agreeable to me. We must shake him off. 
 We can t have him following us all over 
 Europe." 
 
 " He won t do that. He is going to the 
 Paris Exposition." 
 
MR. TARBOX IS OBSTINATE. 141 
 
 " What s lie going to do there exhibit 
 himself?" 
 
 " Not exactly," said Frank, good humor- 
 edly. " He s invented a plow that will take 
 the shine off all others, so he says. So he will 
 be detained there for some time." 
 
 " I am glad to hear that ; but I mean to 
 get rid of him beforehand. When we leave 
 here we mustn t tell where we are going." 
 
 " I can t," answered Frank ; " for I don t 
 know, unless it is to London." 
 
 " Then I won t tell you, or you might let 
 it out accidentally." 
 
 Meanwhile, Jonathan, who had ordered 
 a couple of chops, was sitting in the cof 
 fee-room, making a vigorous onslaught upon 
 them. 
 
 " I wonder what makes that Sharpley so 
 skittish about me and Frank bein together ?" 
 he thought. " He needn t think I want to 
 stick near him. I wouldn t give half a cent 
 for his company. But that boy s a good sort 
 of a chap and a gentleman. I ll keep him in 
 sight if I can." 
 
142 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 AN ADVENTURE IN LONDON. 
 
 next day Slmrpley took advantage of 
 JL Mr. Tarbox s temporary absence from 
 the hotel to hurry Frank off to the London 
 train. 
 
 " I hope we have seen the last of that in 
 trusive Yankee," said Sharpley to our hero, 
 when they were fairly installed in the railway 
 carriage. 
 
 " I should like to have bidden him good- 
 by," said Frank. 
 
 " You can associate with him as much as 
 you like after we have parted company," said 
 Sharpley. " But, for my part, I don t want 
 to see anything of him." 
 
 " I wonder what makes him so prejudiced," 
 thought Frank. " It can t be because he is a 
 Yankee, for I am a Yankee, myself, and yet 
 he takes the trouble of looking after me." 
 
AN ADVENTUKE IN LONDON. 143 
 
 Sharpley was not very social. He bought 
 a paper, and spent most of the time in 
 reading. 
 
 But Frank did not find the time hang 
 heavily upon his hands. He was in England, 
 that w r as his glad thought. On either side, as 
 the train sped along, was spread out a beau 
 tiful English landscape, and his eyes were 
 never tired of watching it. 
 
 To Sharpley there was no novelty in the 
 scene. He had enough to think of in his 
 past life enough to occupy his mind in 
 planning how to carry out his present wicked 
 designs upon the life of the innocent boy at 
 his side. 
 
 At last they reached London, and drove in 
 a hansom to a quiet hotel, located in one of 
 the streets leading from the Strand, a busi 
 ness thoroughfare well known to all who have 
 ever visited the great metropolis. 
 
 " How long are we going to stay in London, 
 Colonel Sharpley?" asked Frank. 
 
 " Two or three days. I can t tell exactly 
 how long." 
 
 " That will be rather a short time to see so 
 
144 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 large a city," returned Frank, considerably 
 disappointed. 
 
 " I am in a hurry to go to the continent," 
 was the reply. " We can stop here longer on 
 our return." 
 
 With this Frank was forced to be content, 
 though he would have preferred to remain in 
 London long enough now to see the principal 
 objects of interest. 
 
 There was, he could not help remarking, a 
 considerable difference in Colonel Sharpley s 
 manner from that which he exhibited when 
 he first called upon his step-father. Then he 
 was very social and agreeable ; now he was 
 taciturn, and at times sullen and irritable. 
 Whatever the reason might be, the change 
 was very marked. 
 
 " Perhaps he has some business that annoys 
 him," thought Frank, charitably. " I will 
 give him as little trouble as possible. But for 
 his kind offer, I should not have my present 
 chance of seeing foreign countries." 
 
 The next morning Sharpley said : 
 
 " Frank, you must wander around by your 
 self, as I have business to attend to." 
 
AN ADVENTURE IN LONDON. 145 
 
 " All right, sir," said Frank. 
 
 In fact, he was rather pleased with the idea 
 of finding his own way in the great city of 
 which he had heard so much, and which he 
 had just entered as a stranger. He felt a little 
 like the celebrated explorer, Dr. Livingstone, 
 as he set out to explore a region as new and 
 blind to him as the mysterious tracts of Cen 
 tral Africa to the older traveler. But he had 
 this advantage over the eminent doctor, that, 
 whereas the latter had no maps or charts to 
 guide him, he was able for the small sum of 
 an English shilling, or about twenty-five 
 cents, to obtain a map of London. 
 
 When his eye glanced for the first time 
 over the labyrinth, he felt bewildered and 
 lost, but after a short time he made up his 
 mind what course to take, and found his way 
 to Charing Cross, and from thence to Picca 
 dilly, Rupert Street, and the parks. 
 
 Time flew by, and in the delight of the 
 ever-recurring novelty, he found that it was 
 two o clock. 
 
 He stepped into a pastry-cook s to get some 
 lunch. 
 
 10 
 
146 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 Then lie hailed a passing stage, and rode a 
 long distance, but whether he was near or far 
 from his hotel he could not tell. 
 
 He decided to leave the stage, and inquire 
 in some shop near by where lie was, and then, 
 by examining his map, ascertain the most di 
 rect course to his hotel. 
 
 As he reached the sidewalk, a little girl of 
 ten years, apparently, with a thin, sad face, 
 fixed her eyes upon him. She said nothing, 
 but there was a mute appeal in her look which 
 Frank, who was by nature compassionate, 
 could not resist. 
 
 " What is the matter, little girl ?" he asked. 
 
 " Mother is sick, and we have nothing to 
 eat," answered the little girl, sorrowfully. 
 
 " Have you no father ?" 
 
 " He has gone away." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "I don t know." 
 
 " Has your mother been sick long ?" 
 
 " She made herself sick working so hard to 
 buy us bread." 
 
 " Then you are not the only child," in 
 quired Frank. 
 
AN ADVENTURE IN LONDON. 147 
 
 " I have a little sister, four years old." 
 
 " How old are you ?" 
 
 " I am ten." 
 
 " What is your name ?" 
 
 " Alice Craven." 
 
 The announcement of her name made 
 Frank start. 
 
 " What !" he exclaimed, for, except his 
 step-father, he had never till now met anyone 
 by that name. 
 
 "Alice Craven," answered the little girl, 
 supposing he had not understood aright. 
 
 " Where does your mother live ?" asked 
 Frank. 
 
 " In Hurst court." 
 
 " Is it far from here ?" 
 
 " Only about five minutes walk." 
 
 " I will go with you," said Frank, with 
 sudden resolution, " and if I find your mother 
 is as badly off as you say, I will give you 
 something. 1 
 
 " Come, then, sir ; I will show you the way." 
 
 Frank followed the little girl till he found 
 himself in a miserable court, shut in by 
 wretched tenements. Alice entered one of the 
 
148 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 dirtiest of these, and Frank followed her up 
 a rickety staircase to the fourth floor. Here, 
 his guide opened a door and led the way into 
 a dark room, almost bare of furniture, where, 
 upon a bed in the corner, lay a wan, atten 
 uated woman. Beside her sat the little girl 
 of four to whom Alice had referred. 
 
 " Mother," said Alice, " here is a kind 
 young gentleman, who has come to help us." 
 
 " Heaven bless him !" said the woman, fee 
 bly. " We are in dire want of help." 
 
 " How long have you been sick ?" asked 
 Frank, compassionately. 
 
 " It is long since I have been well," an 
 swered the invalid, " but I have been able to 
 work till two weeks since. For two weeks I 
 have earned nothing, and, but for the neigh 
 bors, I and my two poor children would have 
 starved." 
 
 " Is your husband dead ?" 
 
 " I do not know. He left me three years 
 ago, and I have never seen him since." 
 
 " Did he desert you ?" asked Frank, indig 
 nantly. " Did he leave you to shift for your 
 self?" 
 
AN ADVENTURE IN LONDON. 149 
 
 " He promised to come back, but, he lias 
 never come/ said the woman, sighing. 
 
 " Your little girl tells me your name is 
 Craven." 
 
 " Yes, sir. That is my husband s name." 
 
 " I know a gentleman by that name." 
 
 " Where ?" asked the invalid, eagerly. 
 
 " In America, But it cannot be your hus 
 band," he added, quickly, not caring to excite 
 hope in the poor woman s breast, only to be 
 succeeded by disappointment, " for he has a 
 wife there. I didn t know but it might be 
 your husband s brother." 
 
 " My husband had no brother," said the 
 woman, sinking back, her momentary hope 
 extinguished. "Oh, if he only knew how 
 hard it has been for me to struggle for food 
 for these poor children, he would surely come 
 back." 
 
 Frank s heart was filled with pity. He 
 drew from his pocket two gold sovereigns, 
 and placed them in the hands of Alice. 
 
 "It won t last you long," he said, "but it 
 will give you some relief." 
 
 "Bless you, bless you!" said the invalid, 
 
150 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 gratefully. " It will keep us till I am well 
 again and can work for my children. What 
 is your name, generous, noble boy ?" 
 
 " Frank Hunter," said our hero, modestly ; 
 " but don t think too much of what I have 
 done. I shall fare no worse for parting with 
 this money." 
 
 " I will remember you in my prayers," said 
 Mrs. Craven. " So young and so generous !" 
 
 " Give me your address, Mrs. Craven, and 
 when I am in London again I will come and 
 see you." 
 
 " No. 10 Hurst Court," said the invalid. 
 
 " I will put it down." 
 
 Frank now left the court, and, as it was 
 late, hailed a cab, and was soon set down in 
 front of his hotel. 
 
 " Where have you been so long," asked 
 Sharpley. " It is past three o clock." 
 
 " I went about seeing the sights," said 
 Frank. " I saw the parks, and Buckingham 
 Palace, and Regent Street ; but I have just 
 left a poor woman who was very destitute, 
 whom I visited in her miserable room. Oddly 
 enough, her name was Craven." 
 
AN ADVENTURE IN LONDON. 151 
 
 " Craven," repeated Sharpley, liis attention 
 at once roused. 
 
 "Yes; she Lad two children, the oldest, 
 Alice, a girl of ten." 
 
 " Great Heaven !" ejaculated Sharpley. 
 
 Frank looked at him in surprise. 
 
 " I daresay they were humbugs," said 
 Sharpley. " Did you give them any money ?" 
 
 " Two sovereigns ; but I am sure they were 
 not humbugs." 
 
 " A fool and his money are soon parted, 
 sneered Sharpley. " Where did you find 
 them ?" 
 
 "No. 10 Hurst Court," 
 
 " I advise you not to be so ready to part 
 with your money the next time. I ll wager 
 they are i in posters," 
 
 " What cursed chance brought him in con 
 tact with these people ?" said Sharpley to him 
 self after Frank had left him to arrange his 
 toilet. " He little dreams that the woman he 
 has relieved is the true wife of the man who 
 has married his mother." 
 
152 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL, 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 COLONEL SHARPLEY S RUSE. 
 
 IATER in the day Mr. Sharpley found his 
 J way to Hurst Court, and paused before 
 Number 10. Though a selfish man, he was 
 not without feeling, and the miserable quar 
 ters in which he found his sister excited his 
 pity. He made inquiry of some of the lower 
 tenants, and soon stood at his sister s door. 
 Without waiting to knock, he opened the door 
 and stepped in. 
 
 The sick woman looked up mechanically, 
 supposing it to be a neighbor who had been 
 kind to her. But when she recognized her 
 brother, she uttered a feeble cry of joy. 
 
 "Oh, Robert, have you come back ?" she 
 cried. " How long it is since I have seen 
 you !" 
 
 He was shocked at her wan and wasted 
 appearance. 
 
COLONEL SHAEPLEY S EUSE. 153 
 
 " Helen," he said, taking a seat beside the 
 bed, " you look very sick." 
 
 " No, Robert, not very sick. It is only the 
 effect of overwork and scanty food." 
 
 " That is enough. How long have you 
 been sick ?" 
 
 " A fortnight. Things looked very dark 
 for me. I feared my poor children would 
 starve, but this morning a noble boy, whom 
 Providence must have sent to me in my ex 
 tremity, gave me two sovereigns, and they 
 will last me till I am well. But where have 
 you been, Robert?" 
 
 " I have been to America." 
 
 "And did you did you see anything of 
 rny husband?" she asked, fixing her eyes 
 anxiously upon him. 
 
 " Do you think of him still ? He does 
 not deserve it. He has treated you like a 
 scoundrel." 
 
 " I know he has not treated me right, 
 Robert, but he is the father of my children. 
 Then you did not find him ?" 
 
 " I obtained a clew," said Sharpley, eva 
 sively. " It may or may not lead to anything. 
 
154 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 I am about to leave London now on a journey 
 connected with that clew. If it results in 
 anything, I will let you know." 
 
 " Where are you going ?" 
 
 "On the Continent. I cannot say pre 
 cisely where, but you will hear from me. 
 But what a hole you are living in," and he 
 looked around him in disgust at the bare 
 walls and naked condition of the miserable 
 room. 
 
 " I don t mind it, Robert. I feel glad to 
 have the shelter of any roof." 
 
 " Have you been so poor ?" 
 
 "So poor that I could not well be poorer." 
 
 " Come, this must be remedied. I am not 
 rich, but I can do something for you. To 
 morrow morning I will move you to a better 
 room. Do you think you can bear to be 
 moved ?" 
 
 " Yes, brother. You are very kind," mur 
 mured the sick woman, not aware that her 
 brother s motives were complex, and that his 
 chief reason for the removal was not dictated 
 by sympathy or pity. 
 
 " Then I shall be here to-morrow at ten, 
 
COLONEL SHARPLEY S RUSE. 155 
 
 with a cab. You must all of you be ready. 
 By the way, do you know any of the people 
 in the house ?" 
 
 "Yes; they are poor, but some of them 
 have been kind to me." 
 
 " Don t let them know where you are 
 moving to?" said Sharpley. 
 
 " Not let them know !" repeated Mrs. 
 Craven, in surprise. " Why not ?" 
 
 " I have a reason, but I don t want to tell 
 you." 
 
 " I don t understand it, Robert. What 
 harm can it do ?" 
 
 Sharpley bit his lip. He was annoyed by 
 her persistency, but he was not prepared to 
 give the real reason. Fortunately, a plausible 
 explanation occurred to him. 
 
 " Listen, sister," he said. " You have an 
 enemy." 
 
 "An enemy !" 
 
 " Yes, who is trying to find you out. He 
 has a clew, and if you remain here he may 
 succeed." 
 
 " But how can I have an enemy, and what 
 could he do to me ?" 
 
156 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 "Suppose he should kidnap one of your 
 children ?" 
 
 The suggestion was made on the spur of 
 the moment, but the effect was immediate. 
 The poor woman turned pale paler even 
 than before and trembled. 
 
 " Say no more, Robert," she answered. " I 
 will promise." 
 
 " You promise to let no one of your neigh 
 bors know where you are going?" 
 
 "Yes. But, Robert, is it my husband is 
 it Mr. Craven who is in search of me ?" 
 
 " Ask no more," said Sharpley. " You may 
 know some time, but I have told you all I 
 wish you at present to know. But I must be 
 going. To-morrow, at ten, remember." 
 
 " I will be ready." 
 
 " Cleverly managed !" said Sharpley to 
 himself. " I must take care that that boy 
 does not meet my sister again. The name has 
 already struck him. If he sees her again he 
 may come to suspect the truth, and suspicion 
 once aroused, he may suspect me." 
 
 He didn t at once return to the hotel, but 
 going to a part of London two miles distant, 
 
COLONEL SHAEPLEY S RUSE. 157 
 
 engaged a somewhat better lodging for his 
 sister. The next morning he went to Hurst 
 Court, and, finding her ready, moved her at 
 once to her new home. 
 
 " How kind you are, Robert !" she said. 
 
 " I would do more if I had the means. I 
 may be richer soon. I have a good prospect 
 before me, but it requires me to go away for 
 a time." 
 
 " How long will you be gone ?" 
 
 " I cannot tell. It may be a month; it may 
 be two or three. I have paid the rent of this 
 lodging for three months in advance. There 
 is the receipt." 
 
 She looked at it mechanically, then handed 
 it back. 
 
 " This is not the receipt," she said. " The 
 name is wrong." 
 
 " How is it wrong ?" 
 
 "It is made out to Mrs. Chipman." 
 
 " It is the right paper." 
 
 " But my name is not Mrs. Chipman." 
 
 " Yes, it is." 
 
 " What do you mean, Robert ?" asked his 
 sister, lifting her eyes in surprise. 
 
158 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Just what I say. I want you to be Mrs. 
 Chipman." 
 
 " But why should I give up my name ?" 
 
 " Do you remember what I told you yester 
 day about the man who was on your track?" 
 
 " You didn t say it was a man." 
 
 " Well, I say so now." 
 
 " Well, Robert ?" 
 
 " He will find it harder to trace you if you 
 change your name." 
 
 " If you think it right, Robert, I will be 
 guided by your advice." 
 
 " I do think it best for reasons which I 
 cannot fully explain. You must tell your 
 children, also." 
 
 " I will do so." 
 
 " Have you any of the money that boy gave 
 you?" 
 
 " I have nearly all." 
 
 " Here are three sovereigns more. With 
 your rent paid for three months, if you use it 
 economically, you will not again be reduced 
 to destitution." 
 
 " I shall feel rich with so much money/ 
 said Mrs. Craven, smiling faintly. 
 
COLONEL SHAEPLEY S RUSE. 159 
 
 " Take care that you are not robbed." 
 
 " I will be careful. But it seems strange 
 to me that I should have occasion for any 
 fears." 
 
 " Before the three months are over, I shall 
 probably be back in London. I will come to 
 you at once, and let you know if I have heard 
 anything." 
 
 " Thank you, Robert. Good-by, then, for 
 the present." 
 
 " Good-by. I hope you will soon be well." 
 
 " I shall. It was anxiety for my children 
 that was wearing upon me. Now, thanks to 
 your kindness, I am easy in mind. But, 
 brother, there is one question I forgot to ask. 
 How came you to know that I lived at Hurst 
 Court ?" 
 
 Sharpley was posed for a moment, and 
 knew not what to say. He could not, of course, 
 tell the truth ; but he was a man fertile in 
 suggestions, and he was silent for a moment 
 only. 
 
 " I employed a detective," he answered. 
 l These London detectives are wonderfully 
 sharp. He soon found you out." 
 
160 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 "And you took all this trouble about 
 me," said Mrs. Craven, gratefully, not for 
 a moment doubting the accuracy of the 
 story. 
 
 " Is it strange that I should take the trouble 
 to find my only sister ? But I cannot delay 
 longer. Good-by, Helen." 
 
 He stooped and lightly touched her cheek 
 with his lips, and hurried from the room. 
 
 " There," he said to himself, after reach 
 ing the street ; " I have cut off all possibility 
 of a second meeting between Frank and my 
 sister during the brief remainder of our stay 
 in London. When I come back it will be 
 alone !" 
 
 Four days afterward they left London for 
 Paris. The day before, Frank made his way 
 again to Hurst Court, meaning to leave a lit 
 tle more money with Mrs. Craven, question 
 ing her at the same time about her husband, 
 whom he could not help connecting in some 
 way with his step-father. But his visit was 
 made in vain. Mrs. Craven had disappeared, 
 and not one of the tenants could say where 
 she had gone : but all agreed that she had 
 
COLONEL SHARPLEY S RUSE. 161 
 
 been taken away in a cab by a tall gentle 
 man. It seemed mysterious, but no suspicion 
 as to the identity of the gentleman entered 
 Frank s mind. 
 
 " I hope she has found a friend able to help 
 her," he said to himself, and then dismissed 
 the subject from his mind. 
 
 11 
 
162 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MR. TARBOX AT THE PARIS EXPOSITION. 
 
 QO this is Paris," said Frank to himself, 
 O as he rode into the court-yard of the 
 Hotel de Rivoli, situated on the fine street of 
 the same name. 
 
 He had already, from the carriage window, 
 obtained a good view of the palace of the 
 Tuileries, occupied at that time by Louis Na 
 poleon, in the plentitude of his power, and of 
 the large garden which it faces. The sun was 
 shining brightly, and as he glanced at the 
 signs on either side of the streets through 
 which he passed, he realized, even more 
 clearly than on English soil, that he was in a 
 foreign country. 
 
 " What a beautiful city !" he exclaimed, 
 turning to his companion. 
 
 " Humph ! so, so," said Sharpley, in a tone 
 quite devoid of enthusiasm. 
 
ME. TAEBOX AT THE PAEIS EXPOSITION. 163 
 
 " I suppose you have been here before, 
 Colonel Sharpley?" 
 
 " Often." 
 
 " But it is new to me ; so I suppose it strikes 
 
 me more." 
 
 "It is always enjoyed best the first time. 
 Can you speak French ?" 
 
 " A little. I can read the language pretty 
 well. Shall we stay here long?" 
 
 " I can t tell yet." 
 
 The exhibition was open, and the city was 
 full to overflowing. They were compelled to 
 take rooms high up, the most desirable being 
 already occupied. But for this Frank cared 
 little. He was in Paris; he was going to see 
 its wonders, and this thought filled him with 
 happiness. 
 
 The next day they went to the exhibition 
 together, but Colonel Sharpley soon tired of 
 it. After an hour, he turned to Frank, say 
 
 ing : 
 
 Do you want to stay longer?" 
 " Yes ; I have scarcely seen anything yet." 
 " I suppose you can find your way back to 
 the hotel ?" 
 
164 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Ob, yes." 
 
 " Then I will go out. I don t care much 
 for this sort of thing." 
 
 So Frank wandered on alone alone, but 
 surrounded by a crowd of all nationalities, 
 visitors like himself to the great exhibition. 
 On all sides he was surrounded by triumphs 
 of art and skill gathered from all parts of 
 the world. 
 
 " I wish I had some friend with me," he 
 thought. " It s a splendid sight, but I should 
 enjoy it better if I had somebody I liked to 
 talk to. Wouldn t it be jolly if Ben Cameron 
 were here! How he would enjoy it! Poor 
 fellow ! he s got his own way to make in the 
 world though I don t know as that is much 
 of a misfortune, after all. I don t think I 
 would mind it, though, of course, it s pleasant 
 to have money." 
 
 As these thoughts passed through our hero s 
 mind, he suddenly heard his name called in 
 a loud voice, whose nasal twang could not be 
 mistaken. 
 
 Turning in the direction from which it 
 came, his face lighted up with pleasure as he 
 
MR. TARBOX AT THE PAEIS EXPOSITION. 165 
 
 recognized his fellow-passenger, Jonathan 
 Tarbox. 
 
 The Yankee, looking as countrified as ever 
 in the midst of the brilliant scene, was stand 
 ing guard over his plow, which had been put 
 together, and was occupying a place assigned 
 it by the Committee of Arrangements. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Tarbox, I m glad to see you !" 
 said Frank, heartily, hurrying through the 
 crowd and offering his hand, which was seized 
 in a tight grip. " How long have you been 
 here ?" 
 
 "Three days," said Jonathan, "and I m 
 eenamost tired to death, standin here, with 
 nobody to talk to." 
 
 " I should think you would be lonely. I 
 have only just come. Where are you stay- 
 ing?" 
 
 " I put up over to the Latin Quarter," said 
 Mr. Tarbox ; " though why they call it Latin, 
 when they don t talk Latin there, I don t 
 know. It s cheap livin there, and I don t 
 want to spend too much, There was a feller 
 on the cars took me in when I jest come. As 
 I heard him talk English, I asked him if he 
 
166 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 could recommend a good, cheap tavern for me 
 to stop at. He told me the best he knew for 
 a cheap one was the Hotel de Villy. So I 
 hired a boy to lead me there. It was a big 
 walk, and when I got there I found the scamp 
 had sent me to the town hall of Paris. I d 
 like to give him a lickin ! But I met another 
 chap that was more polite, and he directed 
 me to where I am. He lives there himself. 
 He is a poor artist, and I ve took the room 
 jest opposite to his. Where are you stop- 
 pin ?" 
 
 " At the Hotel Bivoli." 
 
 " That s a hotel where the big-bugs stop, 
 ain t it near Lewis Napoleon s house." 
 
 " Yes, I believe so," said Frank, smiling ; 
 " but I don t claim to be a big-bug." 
 
 " That colonel you re traveling with sets up 
 for one. Is he here ?" 
 
 " He is in the city. He came to the exhi 
 bition with me, but he didn t stop long. How 
 do you like Paris, Mr. Tarbox ?" 
 
 " I really don t know, Frank. The streets 
 and buildin s are pooty handsome, but they 
 do talk the most outlandish stuff I ever heercl. 
 
JONATHAN TARBOX GHKETS AN OLD FKIKND. 
 
ME. TARBOX AT THE PARIS EXPOSITION. 167 
 
 They rattle off jest like parrots, and I can t 
 understand a word." 
 
 " I suppose you have not studied the 
 French language," said Frank, smiling. 
 
 " No, and I don t want to. I d be ashamed 
 o myself to talk like them. Why in thunder 
 don t they talk English?" asked Jonathan, 
 with an expression of disgust, 
 
 "I suppose they wonder that Americans 
 don t speak French." 
 
 "Why, they do say that young ones call 
 their mothers a mare," continued Mr. Tarbox. 
 " That s what I call sassy, Ef I d called my 
 mother a mare when I was a youngster, she d 
 have keeled me over quicker n a wink. Then 
 a gal is called a filly. That s most as bad. 
 And what do you think I saw on the pro 
 gramme at the restorant where I go to get 
 dinner?" 
 
 "What was it?" asked Frank, amused. 
 
 " It was poison, only it wasn t spelled right. 
 The ignorant critters spelled it with a double 
 s. I say they d ought to be indicted for 
 keepin p ison among their vittles." 
 
 " You have made a little mistake, Mr. Tar- 
 
168 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 box. The word you refer to poisson is the 
 French word for fish." 
 
 " By gracious!" ejaculated Jonathan ; "you 
 don t say so ! Then it s a mighty queer lan 
 guage, that s all I ve got to say. But speak in 
 of eatin , I ain t had a decent meal of vittles 
 since I came here." 
 
 " I am surprised to hear you say that, Mr. 
 Tarbox. The French have a high reputation 
 for their cookery." 
 
 " I can t help that. I haven t lived so 
 mean since I was born." 
 
 " Perhaps it is because you don t know the 
 names of the dishes you want." 
 
 " Wall, there may be somethin in that. 
 Why, the first day I p inted to the first thing 
 in the programme. It was among the pot 
 tages. They brought me some thin, watery 
 stuff that would turn a pig sick. Somebody 
 told me it was meant for soup. When my 
 mother made soup, she put potatoes and meat 
 in it, and carrots and turnips. Her soup was 
 satisfy in , and would stay a feller s stummick. 
 It wa n t like this thin stuff. It would take a 
 hogshead of it to keep a baby alive till night." 
 
MR. TARBOX AT THE PARIS EXPOSITION. 169 
 
 "What else did you get, Mr. Tarbox," 
 asked Frank. 
 
 " I looked all through the programme for 
 baked beans, and, would you believe it, they 
 didn t have it at all." 
 
 " I believe it is not a French dish." 
 
 " Then the French don t know what s good, 
 I can tell em that. Folks say they eat frogs, 
 and it stands to reason if they like frogs, and 
 don t like baked beans, they must be an 
 ignorant set. I didn t understand any of the 
 darned names, but I come across pommy de 
 terry, and I thought that might be somethin 
 solid, so I told the gossoon to bring it. What 
 do you think he brought?" 
 
 " Potatoes." 
 
 " Yes ; I was so wild I come near flinging 
 em in his face, but I concluded to keep em, 
 and happened to see some mutton put down 
 on the bill, though they didn t spell it right, 
 so I pointed it out to the gossoon, and he 
 brought it. It was pretty fair, but I tell you 
 my mother can beat all the French cooks 
 that s goin . I jest wish she was here." 
 
 " We must go together some time, Mr. Tar- 
 
170 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 box. I know some French, and I can tell 
 you the names of some things you like, 
 though I am afraid you will have to do with 
 out baked beans." 
 
 " I wish you would go with me, Frank. 
 May be I can get along better with you." 
 
 " How about your invention, Mr. Tarbox ? 
 Is it attracting attention ?" 
 
 " Nobody looks at it," said Jonathan, a 
 little depressed. " The ladies turn up their 
 noses, as if it wa n t worth lookin at. One old 
 Frenchman come up arid began to ask me 
 about it, but I couldn t make head or tail of 
 what he said. Then he offered me a pinch 
 of snuff. I saw he meant to be polite, so I 
 took a good dose, and most sneezed my head 
 off. But about the plow ; I ve been thinkin 
 whether Lewis Napoleon would let me plow a 
 few furrers in his garden, jest to let the French 
 see how it works. Do you think he would ?" 
 
 " I hardly think he would." 
 
 " You see, folks can t get much idea about 
 it, jest lookin at it here." 
 
 " You don t have to stay by it all the time, 
 do you ?" 
 
ME. TARBOX AT THE PARIS EXPOSITION. 171 
 
 " No." 
 
 " Then suppose you take a little walk with 
 me round the buildings." 
 
 Being socially disposed, Mr. Tarbox ac 
 cepted the proposal, and the two sauntered 
 about together, Frank being continually 
 amused by the unconsciously droll remarks 
 of his countryman. 
 
172 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 FRAXK ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS. 
 
 * * YTTHO was that you were walking with 
 VY yesterday, Frank ?" asked Sharp- 
 ley. 
 
 " Mr. Tarbox." 
 
 " What, that confounded Yankee?" ejacu 
 lated Sharpley, roughly. 
 
 " What harm is there in him ?" asked 
 Frank, quietly. 
 
 " He is an ignorant barbarian. Mr. Craven 
 wouldn t like to have you associate with such 
 
 a man." 
 
 * I care very little what Mr. Craven would 
 like," said Frank. 
 
 " He is your step-father." 
 
 " If he is, I can t help it. I am only re 
 sponsible to my mother for my conduct, and 
 she would not object to my keeping company 
 with a countryman." 
 
FRANK ASSERTS HIS EIGHTS. 173 
 
 " I shouldn t want to own it," sneered 
 Sharpley. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " This Tarbox, if that is his name, is as 
 green as his native hills, and an ignorant 
 boor." 
 
 " I don t agree with you, Colonel Sharp- 
 ley," said Frank, undaunted. "He is not 
 well educated, but he has brains enough to 
 have invented a plow of an improved pat 
 tern, which he is exhibiting here. He is 
 young yet, and if he succeeds he will get 
 rid of his awkwardness, and may in time 
 occupy a prominent position in the commu 
 nity." 
 
 " I don t approve of elevating the rab 
 ble," said Sharpley ; " and as you are my 
 ward, I desire you not to associate with this 
 Tarbox." 
 
 " If you had any good reason to offer, 
 Colonel Sharpley, or if Mr. Tarbox were an 
 improper person, I would obey; but, under 
 the present circumstances, I must decline." 
 
 " What ! You dare to defy me !" ex 
 claimed Sharpley, who was in a worse temper 
 
174 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 than usual, having lost money at cards the 
 evening before. 
 
 " I don t wish to defy you, sir, but I must 
 beg you to be reasonable." 
 
 " Do you dare insinuate that I am un 
 reasonable?" said Sharpley, advancing as if 
 to strike him. 
 
 Frank looked calmly in his face and didn t 
 shrink. There was something in his eye 
 which prevented the blow from falling. 
 Sharpley bethought himself of another way 
 of " coming up with " his rebellious charge. 
 
 " If you are going to act in this way," he 
 said, " I shall send you home." 
 
 " I don t propose to go home, Colonel Sharp- 
 ley," said Frank, firmly. " Now that I am 
 here, I shall stay through the summer." 
 
 " Do you think you can compel me to keep 
 charge of you ?" 
 
 " No, sir; but since it is a trouble to you, 
 I will place myself under the charge of Mr. 
 Tarbox, though I feel quite competent to travel 
 alone. If you will place in his hands what 
 funds you have of mine, this will relieve you 
 of all trouble." 
 
FRANK ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS. 175 
 
 " The deuce it will !" thought Sharpley, who 
 knew that such a course would leave him ab 
 solutely helpless and penniless. 
 
 He began to see that he had overshot the 
 mark. He would risk the utter failure of 
 all his plans if a separation should take place 
 between them. So, though it went against his 
 grain, he resolved to make up with Frank. 
 Forcing a smile, therefore, he said : 
 
 " Are you really anxious to leave me, 
 Frank?" 
 
 Our hero was bewildered by the unexpected 
 change of manner. 
 
 " I thought you were tired of me, sir, 1 he 
 said. " I am afraid I give you trouble and 
 interfere with your plans. " 
 
 " Not at all. I am sorry if I have given 
 you such an impression. The fact is, I am 
 vexed and irritated at some news I have heard, 
 and that made me disposed to vent my irrita 
 tion on you." 
 
 " I am sorry, sir, if you have had bad 
 news. Is it anything serious?" 
 
 " Not very serious," said Sharpley ; " but," 
 he added, with ready invention, " it is vexa- 
 
176 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 tious to hear that I have lost a thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 " Yes ; that is a serious loss," said Frank, 
 with sympathy. 
 
 " It was invested, as I thought, safely ; but 
 the concern proves to be rotten, and my loss 
 is total." 
 
 " I hope it won t seriously inconvenience 
 you, Colonel Sharpley ?" 
 
 " Oh, no ; it is fortunately but a small part 
 of my fortune," said Sharpley, with barefaced 
 falsehood. " Still, it is annoying. But let it 
 pass. To-morrow I shall feel all right. Mean 
 while, if you really care to associate with this 
 Tarbox, do so by all means. I confess he is 
 not to my taste." 
 
 " He is not a countryman of yours, sir ; he 
 reminds me of home." 
 
 " Just so. By the way, I have letters for 
 you from home." 
 
 " Oh, give them to me !" said Frank, 
 eagerly. " I am longing to hear." 
 
 He eagerly opened the letters. One, a long 
 one, crossed and recrossed, was from his mo 
 ther. I will only quote one paragraph : 
 
FBANK ASSERTS HIS EIGHTS. 177 
 
 "I need hardly tell you, my dear son, how much 
 I miss you. The house seems very dull and lonely 
 without you. But I am glad you are enjoying your 
 self amid new scenes, and look forward with great 
 interest to hear your accounts of what you have 
 seen. I send a great deal of love, and hope to hear 
 from you often. 
 
 " Your affectionate mother, 
 
 " MARY CRAVEN. 
 
 " P.S. Mr. Craven has written a note to you, 
 which will go by the same mail as this." 
 
 The other letter, written in a masculine 
 hand, Frank opened with some curiosity. He 
 had not expected to hear from Mr. Craven, 
 and wondered what he would have to say. 
 His letter being short, will be given entire : 
 
 " MY DEAR FRANK : As your mother is writing 
 you, I cannot resist the temptation of sending a line 
 also. We both miss you very much, but are con 
 soled for your absence by the knowledge that you 
 are enjoying and improving yourself in the Old 
 World. Had circumstances been favorable, how 
 pleasant it would have been if your mother and my 
 self could have accompanied you. Let us hope 
 that sometime such a plan may be carried out. 
 Meanwhile, I feel truly happy to think that you are 
 under the care of my friend, Colonel Sharpley, whom 
 
 12 
 
178 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 I know to be a gentleman every way qualified for 
 such a responsible trust. We are hoping to receive 
 letters from you describing your travels. I will not 
 write more now, but subscribe myself 
 
 " Your affectionate step-father, 
 
 " SAMUEL CRAVEN." 
 
 There was nothing to complain of in this 
 letter. It was kind and cordial, and exhibited 
 a. strong and affectionate interest in our hero. 
 Yet Frank read it without any special feeling 
 of gratitude ; nor was he drawn by it any 
 nearer to the writer. He blamed himself for 
 his coldness. 
 
 " Why can t I like him ?" he said to him 
 self. " He seems very kind, and wants me to 
 enjoy myself. I suppose he was partly the 
 means of my coming out on this tour. Yet 
 that doesn t make me like him." 
 
 Frank could not tell why he felt so, but it 
 was an instinctive perception of Mr. Craven s 
 insincerity, and the falseness of his character 
 and professions that influenced him. He 
 folded the letters, first reading his mother s a 
 second time, and went out, Colonel Sharpley 
 having already departed. He bent his steps 
 
FRANK ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS. 179 
 
 to the exhibition building, and made his way 
 to Mr. Tarbox. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Tarbox," he said. 
 " How do you feel to-day ?" 
 
 " Pooty smart. You look as if you ve heerd 
 good news." 
 
 u I have had two letters from home." 
 
 " So have I." 
 
 "Any news?" 
 
 "Yes," said Jonathan; "the brindle cow s 
 got a calf." 
 
 Frank smiled. 
 
 " That s my cow," said Mr. Tarbox, seri- 
 iously ; "she s a stunner for givin milk; she 
 gives a pailful in the mornin , and two pailfuls 
 at night. I m goin to make money out of that 
 cow." 
 
 "And out of that plow, too, I hope." 
 
 " I don t know," said Mr. Tarbox, shaking 
 his head. " These ignorant furriners don t seem 
 to care nothin about plows. They care more 
 about silks and laces, and sich like." 
 
 " Was that all the news you got about the 
 cow, I mean? " 
 
 " No," said Jonathan, chuckling a little, 
 
180 FKANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 and lowering his voice; " I got a letter from 
 her." 
 
 " From her ?" 
 
 " Yes, from my gal." 
 
 " Oh, I understand," said Frank, laughing. 
 " How glad you must be." 
 
 Yes, sir-ee. I feel like a fly in a molasses 
 keg all over sweetness." 
 
 " Then she hasn t forgotten you ?" 
 
 "I guess not. How do you think she 
 ended her letter?" 
 
 " I can t tell." 
 
 "Wait a minute, and I ll read you the 
 endin off. Here it is : 
 
 1 If you love me as I love you, 
 No knife can cut our love in two. 
 
 " Arn t that scrumptious ?" 
 
 " I should think it was. I hope you ll 
 introduce me some day, when she s Mrs. 
 Tarbox." 
 
 " Yes, I will. You must come up to the 
 farm, and stay a week in the summer." 
 
 " By that time you ll have made your for 
 tune out of the plow." 
 
FRANK ASSERTS HIS RIGHTS. 181 
 
 " I hope so. Where are you goin ?" 
 
 " I am going to visit the French depart 
 ment of the exhibition." 
 
 " Wai, I ll go along with you. I want to 
 see if they ve got any plow here to compare 
 with mine. I don t believe they know enough 
 to make anything useful." 
 
 Mr. Tarbox certainly did the French injus 
 tice, but he was under the sway of prejudice, 
 and was quite disposed to exalt the useful at 
 the expense of the beautiful. 
 
182 FEANK HUNTEK S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 FRANK LEAVES PARIS. 
 
 THERE was a letter from Mr." Craven to 
 Sharpley, which came by the same mail 
 as those mentioned in the preceding chapter. 
 It contained the following paragraph : 
 
 " I suppose you will travel to Switzerland with 
 Frank. I suppose so, because in the summer it is 
 very attractive to the tourist. As accidents are very 
 apt to happen to careless travelers, let me request 
 you to keep a good lookout for him, and not let 
 him approach too near tho edge of precipices, or 
 clefts in the mountains. He might easily fall over, 
 and I shudder, not only to think of his fate in that 
 case, but of the grief which would overwhelm his 
 mother and myself. I beg you will keep us ap 
 prised of his health, and should any accident hap 
 pen, write at once." 
 
 Sharpley read over this passage with at 
 tention. Then he folded the letter, and mut 
 tered to himself: 
 
 " What a consummate hypocrite that villain 
 
FRANK LEAVES PARIS. 183 
 
 Craven is ! Any one, to read this letter, 
 would suppose that he was actuated by the 
 warmest attachment for his step-son ; and all 
 the while he is planning his death, and coolly 
 suggesting to me an easy way of bringing it 
 about. I am bad enough, or I would not 
 lend myself to carry out his plans, but I m 
 not such a miserable hypocrite as he is. 
 However, I ve seen too much of the world to 
 be shocked at anybody s depravity, having a 
 fair share of wickedness myself. As to the 
 suggestion, I must confess that it s a good 
 one, and relieves me from a good deal of 
 anxious thought. I ve been considering how 
 best I could get rid of the young incum- 
 brance. It occurred to me that I could lock 
 him up, and set some charcoal to burning in 
 his room ; but, heating the room it s too hot 
 already. Then, again, I thought of poison. 
 But there s a chance of a post-mortem exami 
 nation. That won t do. But Craven s plan is 
 best. As far as I can see it will be effectual, 
 and free from danger also. As soon as I can 
 decently get away from Paris, I ll take the 
 boy to Switzerland. I must stay here a week 
 
184 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 at least, especially as the exhibition is open, 
 or it might draw suspicion upon me. When 
 I m rid of the boy I shall breathe freer. 
 Then for America, and a final reckoning with 
 Craven. With ten thousand dollars and 
 more, if I can extort it from him I will set 
 up for respectability, and develop into a sub 
 stantial citizen. Good-by, then, to the gam 
 bling table. It has been my bane, but, with 
 a fair competence, I will try to resist its fas 
 cinations." 
 
 Sharpley and our hero met at the table 
 dliate dinner and at breakfast. For the re 
 mainder of the day Frank was left to his own 
 devices; but for this he cared little. Either 
 alone, or in company with Mr. Tarbox, he 
 went about the city, often as an outside pas 
 senger on the street stages which ply from one 
 end of Paris to the other, and in this way he 
 came to have a very good idea of the plan of 
 the brilliant capital. 
 
 On the sixth day, while they were at din 
 ner, Sharpley said : 
 
 " Well, Frank, have you seen considerable 
 of Paris ?" 
 
FRANK LEAVES PARIS. 185 
 
 " Oh, yes, sir ; I am getting to know my 
 way around pretty well." 
 
 " I am sorry I have not been able to go 
 about with you more." 
 
 "That is of no consequence, sir. I have 
 got on very well alone." 
 
 " Have you written home ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " I am afraid you will be disappointed at 
 what I am going to say." 
 
 "What is it, sir?" 
 
 " I have arranged for our leaving Paris to 
 morrow evening." 
 
 " Not to go back to England ?" asked 
 Frank, hastily. 
 
 " No. I propose to go to Switzerland." 
 
 " I should like that," said our hero, bright 
 ening up. "I have always wanted to see 
 Switzerland." 
 
 " I didn t know but you would be sorry to 
 leave Paris." 
 
 " So I should be if I thought we were 
 not coming back this way. We shall, sha n t 
 we?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
186 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Arid we shall have time to stay here a 
 little while then ?" 
 
 " No doubt." 
 
 " Then I can defer the rest of my sight 
 seeing till then. What route shall we take ?" 
 
 " As to that, there is a variety of routes. 
 It doesn t matter much to me. I will leave 
 the choice to you. 7 
 
 " Will you ?" said Frank, eagerly. " Then 
 I will get out my map after dinner and pick 
 it out." 
 
 " Very well. You can tell me to-morrow 
 
 morning." 
 
 The next morning Sharpley put the ques 
 tion to Frank : 
 
 " Well, have you decided by what route you 
 would like to travel ?" 
 
 " Can t we go east to the Ehine, and go up 
 that river to Mayence, and thence to Geneva 
 by rail ?" 
 
 " Certainly, if you like. It will be quite a 
 pleasant route." 
 
 " I always thought I should like to go up 
 the Rhine. I have been up the Hudson, which 
 I have often heard compared to the Rhine." 
 
FRANK LEAVES PARIS. 187 
 
 " There is no comparison between them," 
 said Sharpley, who, not being an American, 
 was not influenced by a patriotic prejudice in 
 favor of the Hudson. "The Rhine has 
 ruined castles and vine-clad hills, and is far 
 more interesting." 
 
 " Very likely," said Frank. " At any rate, 
 I want to see it." 
 
 " We will start to-morrow night, then. 
 Morning will bring us across the frontier. 
 You will be ready, of course?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The next morning Frank went to the ex 
 position to acquaint Mr. Tarbox with his ap 
 proaching departure. 
 
 " Are you goin ? I m real sorry, Frank," 
 said the Yankee. " I shall kinder hanker 
 arter you, boy. You seem like home. As to 
 them chatterin , frog-eatin furriners, I can t 
 understand a word they say, and ef I could I 
 wouldn t want to." 
 
 " I am afraid you are prejudiced, Mr. Tar- 
 box. I have met some very agreeable French 
 people," 
 
 " I haven t," said Mr. Tarbox. " They don t 
 
188 FEANK HUNTEE S PEEIL. 
 
 suit me. There ain t nothin solid or sub 
 stantial about em." 
 
 " You may get acquainted with some Eng 
 lish people. You can understand them." 
 
 " I don t like em," said Jonathan. " They 
 think they can whip all creation. We gave 
 em a lesson, I guess, at Bunker Hill." 
 
 " Let by-gones be by-gones, Mr. Tarbox ; 
 or, as Longfellow says : 
 
 " Let the dead Past bury its dead. " 
 
 " Did Longfellow write that ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then he ain t so smart as I thought he 
 was. How can anybody that s dead bury 
 himself, I d like to know? It s ridiculous." 
 
 " I suppose it s figurative." 
 
 " It ain t sense. But that aint to the point. 
 Whereabouts in Switzerland are you goin , 
 Frank?" 
 
 " I don t know, except that we go to 
 Geneva." 
 
 " Can you write me a letter from there ?" 
 
 11 Certainly. I will do so with pleasure, 
 and shall be glad to hear from you." 
 
FRANK LEAVES PARIS. 189 
 
 " All right. I ain t much on scribblin . I 
 can hold a plow better n a pen. But I guess 
 I can write a few pot-hooks, jest to let yer 
 know I m alive an kickin ." 
 
 " It s a bargain, then." 
 
 " Jest give me your name on a piece of 
 paper, so I shall know where to write." 
 
 "All right. I happen to know where we 
 are going to stop there. Mr. Sharpley men 
 tioned that we should stop at the Hotel des 
 Bergues. I haven t got a card with me, but 
 I ll put the address on an old envelope." 
 
 Frank took from his pocket what he sup 
 posed to be Mr. Craven s letter to him, and on 
 the reverse side wrote : 
 
 FRANK HUNTER, 
 
 Hotel des Bergues, 
 Geneva, 
 
 Switzerland. 
 
 Mr. Tarbox took it and surveyed it criti 
 cally ; then read it as follows : 
 
 " Frank Hunter, Hotel dese Bugs. Wai, 
 that s a queer name for a tavern," he said. 
 "I s pose that s French for bugs?" 
 
190 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " It means that the big bugs stop there," 
 said Frank, jocosely. 
 
 "Some of the big bugs are humbugs," said 
 Jonathan, laughing grimly at his own wit. 
 
 When, after leaving Mr. Tarbox, Frank 
 happened to examine his pockets, he drew 
 out the two letters he had received. This 
 puzzled him. What letter was that which he 
 had given his Yankee friend, then ? He 
 could not tell. We are wiser. Sharpley had 
 incautiously left on the table Craven s letter 
 to him, and Frank had put it into his pocket, 
 supposing it to be his. This it was which 
 had passed into the possession of Mr. Tarbox. 
 
 Three days later Mr. Tarbox discovered 
 the letter, and curiosity made him unscrupu 
 lous. He read it through, including the 
 paragraph already quoted. 
 
 " By hokey ! he muttered. " That s queer. 
 1 Should any accident happen, write at once. 
 He seems to expect an accident will happen. 
 I ll bet that man is a snake in the grass. He s 
 Frank s guardian, and he s got up some plot 
 ag in him. I always disliked that Sharpley. 
 He s a skunk. I ll start for. Switzerland to- 
 
FRANK LEAVES PARIS. 191 
 
 morrow, and let the old plow go to thunder. 
 I m bound to look out for Frank." 
 
 Mr. Tarbox was energetic. He went to his 
 lodgings, packed his carpet-bag, and early 
 next morning started in pursuit of Frank 
 and Sharpley. 
 
192 FEANK HUNTEK S TEEIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE HOTEL DU GLACIER. 
 
 HIGH up among the Bernese Alps stands 
 the Hotel du Glacier. It is a small 
 hotel, of limited accommodations, but during 
 the season it is generally full of visitors. The 
 advantage is, that a comparatively short walk 
 carries one to a point where he has a fine 
 view of that mountain scenery which is the 
 glory of Switzerland, and draws thither 
 thousands of pilgrims annually. 
 
 In rustic chairs outside sat at eight o clock 
 in the morning our young hero, Frank Hun 
 ter, and his temporary guardian, Colonel 
 Sharpley. In front a beautiful prospect 
 spread out before the two travelers. Snowy 
 peaks, their rough surface softened by dis 
 tance, abounding in beetling cliffs and fearful 
 gorges, but overlooking smiling valleys, were 
 plainly visible. 
 
THE HOTEL DU GLACIER. 193 
 
 "Isn t it magnificent?" exclaimed Frank, 
 Avith the enthusiasm of youth. 
 
 " Yes, I dare say," said Sharpley, yawning, 
 " but I m not romantic; I ve outlived all 
 that." 
 
 " I don t believe I shall ever outlive my 
 admiration for such scenery as this," thought 
 Frank. 
 
 " Don t you enjoy it?" he asked. 
 
 " Oh, so so ; but the fact is, I came here 
 chiefly because I thought you would like it. 
 I ve been the regular Swiss tour more than 
 once." 
 
 " You are very kind to take so much trouble 
 on my account," said Frank. 
 
 " Oh, I might as well be here as anywhere," 
 said Sharpley. " Just at present there is 
 nothing in particular to take up my attention. 
 Did you order breakfast ?" 
 
 " Yes, Colonel Sharpley." 
 
 " Go and ask if it isn t ready, will you ?" 
 
 Frank entered the inn, and soon returned 
 with the information that breakfast was ready. 
 They entered a small dining-room, where they 
 found the simple meal awaiting them. 
 
 13 
 
194 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 The regular Swiss breakfast consists of cof 
 fee, bread and butter, and honey, and costs, 
 let me add, for the gratification of my reader s 
 curiosity, thirty cents in gold. Dinner com 
 prises soup, three courses of meat, and a pud 
 ding or fruit, and costs from sixty cents to a 
 dollar, according to the pretensions of the 
 hotel. In fact, so far as hotel expenses go, 
 two dollars a day in gold will be quite suffi 
 cient in the majority of cases. If meat is re 
 quired for breakfast, that is additional. 
 
 " How good the coffee is," said Frank. " I 
 never tasted it as good in America." 
 
 " They know how to make it here, but why 
 didn t you order breakfast ?" 
 
 " I thought they would supply meat with 
 out an order." 
 
 "I always want meat; I have got beyond 
 my bread-and-butter days," said Sharpley, 
 with a dash of sarcasm. 
 
 " I have not," said Frank, " especially when 
 both are so good. What are your plans for 
 the day, Colonel Sharpley ?" 
 
 " I think we ll take a climb after break 
 fast," said Sharpley. " What do you say ?" 
 
THE HOTEL DU GLACIER. 195 
 
 " I should like nothing better/ said Frank, 
 eagerly. " But," he added, " I am afraid you 
 are going entirely on my account. 
 
 " How well the boy has guessed it," thought 
 Sharpley. " It is on his account I am going, 
 but he must not know that." 
 
 "Oh, no," he said ; "I feel like taking a 
 ramble among the hills. It would be stupid 
 staying at the inn." 
 
 " Then," said Frank, with satisfaction, " I 
 shall be glad to go. Shall we take a guide ?" 
 
 " Not this morning," said Sharpley. " Let 
 us have the pleasure of exploring independ 
 ently. To-morrow we will arrange a long 
 excursion with guides." 
 
 " I suppose it is quite safe ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, if we don t wander too far. I 
 shall be ready in about half an hour." 
 
 " I will be ready," said Frank. 
 
 " And I ll smoke a cigar." 
 
 Just then a gentleman came up, whose ac 
 quaintance they had made the previous day. 
 It was a Mr. Abercrombie, an American gen 
 tleman, from Chicago, who was accompanied 
 by his son Henry, a boy about Frank s age. 
 
196 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " What are your plans for to-day, Mr. 
 Sharpley ?" he asked. 
 
 " I hope he isn t going to thrust himself 
 upon us," thought Sharpley, savagely, for he 
 was impatient of anything that was likely to 
 interfere with his wicked design. 
 
 " I have none in particular," he answered. 
 
 "You are not going to remain at the inn, 
 are you? That would be dull." 
 
 " Confound the man s curiosity !" muttered 
 Sharpley, to himself. 
 
 " I may wander about a little, but I shall 
 make no excursion worth speaking of till to 
 
 morrow." 
 
 " Why can t we join company ?" said Mr. 
 Abercrombie, in a friendly manner. " Our 
 young people are well acquainted, and we can 
 keep each other company. Enlarge your plan 
 a little, and take a guide." 
 
 " I wish the man was back in America," 
 thought Sharpley. " Why won t he see that 
 he s a bore ?" 
 
 " Really," he said, stiffly, " you must ex 
 cuse me ; I don t feel equal to any sort of an 
 excursion to-day." 
 
THE HOTEL DU GLACIER. 197 
 
 " Then," said the other, still in a friendly 
 way, " let your boy come with us. I will look 
 after him, and my son will like his company." 
 
 Frank heard this application, and as he had 
 taken a fancy to Henry and his father, he 
 hoped that Sharpley would reply favorably. 
 He felt that he should enjoy their company 
 better than his guardian s. 
 
 Sharpley was greatly irritated, but obliged 
 to keep within the bounds of politeness to 
 avoid suspicion, when something had hap 
 pened, as he meant something should happen 
 before the sun set. 
 
 " I hope you won t think me impolite," he 
 said, " but I mean, by and by, to walk a lit 
 tle, and would like Frank s company. To 
 morrow I shall be very happy to join you." 
 
 Nothing more could be said, of course, but 
 Henry Abercrombie whispered to Frank : 
 
 " I m sorry we re not going to be together 
 to-day." 
 
 " So am I," answered Frank ; " but we ll 
 have a bully time to-morrow. I suppose I 
 ought to stay with Colonel Sharpley." 
 
 " He isn t any relation of yours, is he ?" 
 
198 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 "Oh, no; I am only traveling in his com 
 pany." 
 
 "So I thought. You don t look much alike." 
 
 " No ; I suppose not." 
 
 Half an hour passed, but the Abercrombies 
 were still there. 
 
 " Shall we go ?" asked Frank. 
 
 " Not, yet," said Sharpley, shortly. 
 
 He did not mean to start till the other trav 
 elers were gone, lest he should be followed. 
 For he had screwed his courage to the stick 
 ing point, and made up his mind that he 
 would that day do the deed which he had 
 covenanted with Mr. Craven to do. The 
 sooner the better, he thought, for it would 
 bring him nearer the large sum of money 
 which he expected to realize as the price of 
 our hero s murder. 
 
 Twenty minutes afterward the Abercrom 
 bies, equipped for a mountain walk, swinging 
 their alpenstocks, started off, accompanied by 
 a guide. 
 
 " Won t you reconsider your determination 
 and go ?" asked the father. 
 
 Sharpley shook his head. 
 
THE HOTEL DU GLACIER. 199 
 
 " I don t feel equal to the exertion," he an 
 swered. 
 
 " I hope you ll have a pleasant excursion, 
 Henry," said Frank, looking wistfully after 
 his young friend. 
 
 " It would be pleasanter if you were going 
 along," said Henry. 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 Frank said no more, but waited till Sharp- 
 ley had smoked another cigar. By this time 
 twenty minutes had elapsed. 
 
 " I think we ll go now, Frank," said Sharp- 
 ley. 
 
 At the welcome intimation Frank jumped 
 up briskly. 
 
 " Shall I order some lunch to be packed for 
 us ?" he asked. 
 
 lt No ; we sha n t need it," said Sharpley. 
 
 Frank laughed. 
 
 " I think I ll get some for myself," said 
 Frank, laughing, as he added : " I ve got a 
 healthy appetite, Colonel Sharpley, and I am 
 sure the exertion of climbing these hills will 
 make me fearfully hungry." 
 
 " I don t want to be delayed," said Sharp- 
 
200 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 ley, frowning. " We sha n t be gone long 
 enough to need lunch. " 
 
 " It won t take me a minute," said Frank, 
 running into the inn. 
 
 " It is strange he is so much in a hurry all 
 at once," thought our young hero, " when he 
 has been lounging about for an hour without 
 appearing in the least haste." 
 
 However, he did not spend much thought 
 on Sharpley s wayward humor, which he 
 was beginning to see was regulated by no 
 rules. 
 
 Less than five minutes afterward he ap 
 peared, provided with a tourist s lunch-box. 
 
 " I ve got enough for you, Colonel Sharp- 
 ley," he said, " in case we stay out longer than 
 we anticipate." 
 
 The landlord closely followed him, and ad 
 dressed himself to Sharpley : 
 
 "Will not monsieur have a guide?" he 
 asked. 
 
 " No," said Sharpley. 
 
 " My son, Baptiste, is an experienced guide, 
 and can show monsieur and his young friend 
 the finest prospects." 
 
THE HOTEL DU GLACIER. 201 
 
 " I sliall need no guide," said Sharpley, im 
 patiently. " Frank, come along." 
 
 " It will only be six francs," persisted the 
 landlord, " and Baptiste " 
 
 " I don t want Baptiste," said Sharpley, 
 gruffly. " Plague take the man F he mut 
 tered to himself. " He is making himself a 
 regular nuisance." 
 
 " I wish he would take a guide," thought 
 Frank, no suspicion of the importance to 
 himself of having one entering his mind. 
 
202 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 OVEK THE BRINK. 
 
 started on their walk provided with 
 JL alpenstocks, for just above them was the 
 snow-line, and they could not go far without 
 encountering ice also. The Hotel du Glacier 
 stood thousands of feet above the sea-level, 
 and was a favorite resort with those who en 
 joyed the sublimity of mountain scenery. 
 
 Though Sharpley was by no means the 
 companion he would have best liked, Frank 
 was in high spirits, as he realized that he was 
 really four thousand miles from home, sur 
 rounded by the famous mountains of which 
 he had so often read. 
 
 " Have you ever been up this mountain 
 before, Colonel Sharpley ?" asked Frank. 
 
 " Not up this mountain. I have ascended 
 others, however. I once crossed over Mount 
 Cenis to Italy/ 
 
OVER THE BRINK. 203 
 
 "How? Did you walk?" 
 
 " No. I went in a diligence. " 
 
 " It must have been fine. Shall we go into 
 Italy ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so." 
 
 " I should like it very much. I have read 
 so much about Italy." 
 
 " How I wish Ben Cameron were here !" 
 said Frank, after a pause. 
 
 He did not so much mean to say this to 
 Sharpley, but the thought entered his mind, 
 and he unconsciously uttered it aloud. 
 
 " Who is Ben Cameron ?" 
 
 " He is a friend of mine at home. We were 
 a great deal together." 
 
 " Was he the boy that was with you when 
 I first met you ?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 " Humph ! I have no desire for his com 
 pany," thought Sharpley. 
 
 " Have you a glass with you, Colonel 
 Sharpley ?" asked Frank. 
 
 " Yes. Would you like to use it ?" 
 
 " If you please." 
 
 It was a small spy-glass, not powerful, but 
 
204 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 serviceable. Frank adjusted it to liis eye, 
 and looked earnestly in a certain direction. 
 
 " What do you see ?" asked liis com 
 panion. 
 
 " Wait a minute. I am not certain. Yes, 
 it is they." 
 
 " Who?" demanded Sharpley, impatiently. 
 ! " The Abercrombies. They are higher up 
 than we, over there, but not very much out 
 of our way. Shall we join them ?" asked 
 Frank, hopefully. 
 
 "Where are they? Let me see," said 
 Sharpley, seizing the glass. 
 
 He thought Frank might be mistaken, but 
 a glance through the glass satisfied him that 
 he was right. There was Mr. Abercrornbie, 
 toiling up a steep ascent, with his son follow 
 ing, the latter assisted by the guide. 
 
 " Do you see them ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Don t you think we can overtake them ?" 
 
 " Perhaps we might, but I for one don t 
 intend to try." 
 
 Frank looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 " Why not ?" 
 
OVER THE BRINK. 205 
 
 " I thought you heard me decline to join 
 them at the hotel. I have no fancy for com 
 pany to-day." 
 
 "Excuse me," said Frank, politely. "I 
 might have remembered it." 
 
 " You can join them to-morrow if you feel 
 like it," said Sharpley, emphasizing the last 
 clause. 
 
 Frank noticed the emphasis, and wondered 
 at it a little. It seemed to imply that he 
 might not choose to do it, and that did not 
 seem very likely. However, possibly the 
 emphasis was unconscious, and his mind did 
 not dwell upon it. 
 
 They were now walking along a ledge 
 scarcely more than six feet wide, terminating 
 in a sheer precipice. 
 
 " I wonder if accidents often happen here ?" 
 suggested Frank. 
 
 "Such as what ?" sharply interrogated his 
 companion. 
 
 "I mean such as slipping over these cliffs." 
 
 " Not often, I presume," said Sharpley. 
 " No one who exercises common prudence 
 need fear slipping." 
 
206 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 His heart began to beat quicker, for lie saw 
 that the moment was approaching in which 
 his fearful work was to be done. 
 
 " The dangers of the Alps are very greatly 
 exaggerated," he said, indifferently. 
 
 " It looks dangerous," said Frank. 
 
 " Yes, I presume so. Suppose we approach 
 the edge cautiously and look down." 
 
 There is a fatal fascination about danger. 
 Just as the moth hovers persistently about the 
 flame, to which in the end he falls a victim, 
 so we are disposed to draw near dangers at 
 which we shudder. We like to see it for our 
 selves, and, shuddering, to say : " Suppose I 
 should fall in." 
 
 Our young hero was of a daring disposi 
 tion. He had never been timid or nervous, 
 inheriting his father s physical traits, not 
 his mother s. So Sharpley s proposal struck 
 him favorably, being an appeal to his cour 
 age. 
 
 " I should like to look over," he said. 
 
 As he spoke he drew near the fatal brink, 
 not observing that his companion was not at 
 his side, but just behind him. 
 
OVER THE BEINK. 207 
 
 " Now for it !" thought Sharpley, his 
 breath coming thick and fast. 
 
 One push from behind, and Frank was 
 over the ledge, falling falling falling. 
 
 There was one scream of terror, and Sharp- 
 ley found himself alone upon the cliff. 
 
208 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 GIVING THE ALARM. 
 
 FTIHERE are not many men who can com- 
 JL mit a crime of violence without an 
 inward shudder and a thrill of horror. Sharp- 
 ley was not a professional murderer. He had 
 never before taken life. His offences against 
 law had been many, but none had stained 
 his soul with blood till now. 
 
 He felt faint as he saw the disappearance 
 of his young ward, sped by his own hand to 
 a death so fearful. 
 
 " It is done and can t be undone," he mut 
 tered. "He will never know what hurt him. 
 I am glad it s over. It was a dirty job, but I 
 had to do it. Craven forced me to this. He 
 must pay well for it." 
 
 "Shall I look over the cliff?" he asked 
 himself. 
 
f 
 
 *r>> 
 
 OVER THE LEDGE. 
 
GIVING THE ALARM. 209 
 
 He advanced a step, but drew back with a 
 shudder. 
 
 " No, I can t do it," he said to himself. " It 
 will make me dizzy. I shall run the risk of 
 falling over myself." 
 
 He retraced his steps for a few rods, and 
 then sat down to think. It was necessary 
 that he should concoct some plausible account 
 of the accident, in order to avoid suspicion, 
 though that was not likely to fall upon him. 
 Who could dream of any motive that would 
 impel him to such a deed ? Yet there was 
 such a motive, as he well knew, but the only 
 one who shared the knowledge was in Amer 
 ica, and he was criminally connected with the 
 crime. 
 
 Sharpley soon determined upon his course 
 and his explanation. The latter would 
 necessitate a search for the boy, and this 
 made him pause. 
 
 " But, pshaw !" he said, " the boy is dead. 
 He must have been killed at once ; and the 
 dead tell no tales. I must get back to the 
 hotel and give the alarm." 
 
 An hour later Sharpley approached the 
 
 14 
 
210 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 inn. He had walked quietly till then, but 
 now he had a part to play. 
 
 He rushed into the inn in breathless haste, 
 nearly knocking over the portly landlord, 
 whom he encountered in the passage. 
 
 "What is the matter, monsieur?" asked 
 the landlord, with eyes distended. 
 
 " The boy P gasped Sharplcy. 
 
 "What of the boy, monsieur?" 
 
 "He has fallen over a precipice," he ex 
 claimed. 
 
 " Oh 9 del /" exclaimed the iandlord. " How 
 did it happen ?" 
 
 "We were walking on a narrow ledge," 
 explained Sharpley. " On one side there was 
 a steep descent. I don t know how many hun 
 dreds of feet deep. The boy approached the 
 edge. I warned him to be careful, but he 
 was very rash. He did not obey me. He 
 leaned too far, lost his balance, and fell over. 
 I sprang forward to save him, but it was too 
 late." 
 
 " It is horrible !" said the landlord. " Was 
 he your son ?" 
 
 " No, but he was the son of a dear friend. 
 
GIVING THE ALARM. 211 
 
 Oh, how shall I break the sad tidings to his 
 father arid mother ? Is there no hope of his 
 life being saved ?" 
 
 "I fear not," said the landlord, gravely. 
 " You should have taken Baptiste with you, 
 as I advised." 
 
 " Oh, my friend, I wish I had !" said the 
 hypocrite, fervently. " Where is Baptiste ? 
 Let us go and see if we can find the poor 
 boy ?" 
 
 " Here I am at your service, monsieur," 
 said Baptiste. " I will take a comrade with 
 me. We will save him if we can, but I fear 
 there is no hope." 
 
 Ten minutes later Sharpley, accompanied 
 by two guides, and some of the guests of the 
 hotel, who had been struck with horror on 
 hearing the news, were wending their way up 
 the mountain in quest of our hero. 
 
212 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 SHARPLEY DISSEMBLES. 
 
 FTIHERE was some delay about starting, but 
 JL at length the party got under way. Very 
 little conversation took place, and that little 
 related only to the accident. The spell of 
 the awful tragedy was upon them, and their 
 faces were grave and their spirits depressed. 
 
 And what shall we say of the guilty man, 
 who alone could unlock the mystery ? who 
 alone could account for the boy s tragic end ? 
 His mind was in a tumult of contradictory 
 emotions. He was glad that it was all over 
 that the fearful task which in America he had 
 agreed to execute, which had haunted him for 
 these many days and nights, was no longer 
 before him to do, that it was already done. 
 He saw before him, mercenary wretch that 
 he was, the promised reward, in a sum of 
 money which would be to him a competence, 
 and which, carefully husbanded, would relieve 
 
SIIARPLEY DISSEMBLES. 213 
 
 all his money anxieties for the future. But, 
 on the other hand, there came the shuddering 
 thought that he had wrought the death of an 
 unoffending boy, who had looked up to him 
 as a guide and protector, but whom he had 
 only lured to his ruin. 
 
 " Are accidents frequent among the moun 
 tains?" asked one of the guests, addressing 
 Baptiste, the guide. 
 
 " No, monsieur ; not in this part. When 
 travelers are hurt or killed, it is because they 
 are careless or go without guides." 
 
 " As I did," said Sharpley, who felt it 
 would be polite to take upon himself this 
 blame, and so skilfully evade suspicion of a 
 graver fault. " You are right, and I am much 
 to blame ; but I did not expect to go so far, 
 nor did I think Frank would be so impru 
 dent. But it is not for me to blame the poor 
 boy, who has been so fearfully punished for 
 his boldness. You would not have let him 
 go so near the edge of the cliff?" 
 
 "No, monsieur; or, if he went, I would 
 have held him while he looked down." 
 
 " It is what I should have done. Oh, how 
 
214 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 horrible it was to see him fall over the 
 cliff?" 
 
 And Sharpley shuddered, a genuine shud 
 der; for, guilty as he was, the picture was 
 one to appall him. 
 
 " Oh, how shall I tell his poor mother ?" 
 he continued, acting wonderfully well. 
 
 The rest were silent, respecting what they 
 thought to be his grief. 
 
 They had, perhaps, half achieved the as 
 cent, when they fell in with the Abercrom- 
 bies, who were just returning from their 
 excursion. They regarded the ascending 
 party with surprise. 
 
 "What!" said Mr. Abercrombie to Sharp- 
 ley, "are you just going up the mountain? 
 You are very late." 
 
 " Where is Frank ?" asked Henry Aber 
 crombie, looking in vain among the party for 
 our hero, to whom, as already said, he had 
 taken a fancy. 
 
 There was silence at first, each of those in 
 the secret regarding the rest. But it was to 
 Sharpley that Mr. Abercrombie looked for a 
 reply. The delay surprised him. 
 
SHAEPLEY DISSEMBLES. 215 
 
 "What is the matter?" he asked, at length. 
 " Has anything happened ?" 
 
 " Somebody tell him," said Sharpley, in 
 pretended emotion. 
 
 Baptiste was the one to respond. 
 
 " Monsieur," he said, gravely, "a terrible 
 thing has happened. The poor boy has fallen 
 into a ravine." 
 
 " What !" exclaimed father and son, in 
 horror. 
 
 " Frank fallen ? Why I saw him only this 
 morning. I asked him to go with us. Is this 
 true ?" said Henry. 
 
 " It is only too true, my boy," said Sharp- 
 ley, covering his face. 
 
 And he repeated his version of the accident 
 with well-counterfeited emotion. 
 
 " Is there no hope ?" asked Henry, with 
 pale face. 
 
 Baptiste shook his head. 
 
 " I am afraid not," he said ; " but I can 
 tell better when I see the place." 
 
 " How can there be any hope ?" asked Mr. 
 Abercrombie. 
 
 " He might have fallen on the deep snow, 
 
216 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 or on some intermediate ledge, and so saved 
 Ins life." 
 
 " Good Heaven !" thought Sharpley, in 
 dismay. " Suppose it should be so ? Suppose 
 he is alive, and should expose me ? I should 
 be ruined. But no ! It cannot be. There is 
 not one chance in a hundred. Yet that one 
 chance disturbs me. I must find out as soon 
 as possible, in order that my mind may be at 
 
 ease." 
 
 " Come on !" he said, aloud. " While we 
 are lingering here the boy may die. Let us 
 make haste." 
 
 " I will go with you," said Mr. Aber- 
 crombie. 
 
 " And I," said Henry. 
 
A USELESS SEARCH. 217 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A USELESS SEARCH. 
 
 TS tins the place ?"asked Baptiste, as, half 
 
 JL an hour later, they stood on the fatal 
 cliff. 
 
 " This is the place," said Sharpley. 
 
 " Let me look over," said Henry, advancing 
 to the edge. 
 
 " Are you mad ?" exclaimed his father, 
 drawing him back hastily. 
 
 " I will look, gentlemen," said the guide. 
 "It will be safest for me." 
 
 He threw himself flat upon his stomach, 
 and thus in safety peeped into the chasm. 
 
 " Do you see anything ?" asked Sharpley, 
 agitated. 
 
 " Wait till I look earnestly," and after a 
 breathless pause, he answered slowly : 
 
 u No, I see nothing ; but the cliff is not so 
 steep or so high as I thought. There are 
 
218 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 some bushes growing in parts. He might be 
 stopped by these. 7 
 
 "You can t see any traces of him, can 
 you ?" 
 
 Another pause. 
 
 " No. The snow seems disturbed in one 
 place, but if he had fallen there, he would be 
 there still." 
 
 "Might he not have fallen there and 
 rolled to the bottom ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so. I cannot tell." 
 
 " Let me look," said Sharpley. 
 
 The suggestion of the possibility that Frank 
 might have escaped was fraught to him with 
 danger. All his hopes of safety and success 
 depended upon the boy s death. He wanted 
 to see for himself. 
 
 The guide rose, and Sharpley, imitating his 
 posture, threw himself on the ground and 
 looked over, borrowing the glass. But such 
 a sense of horror, brought on by his own 
 criminality, overcame him as he lay there 
 that his vision was blurred, and he came near 
 dropping the glass. He rose, trembling. 
 
 " I can see nothing of him," he said. " He 
 
A USELESS SEAECH. 219 
 
 is certainly dead. Poor boy ! He could not 
 possibly have escaped." 
 
 " Let me look," said Abercrombie. 
 
 But he also could see no trace of the body. 
 
 " I think," he said, rising, " that our best 
 course will be to descend and explore at the 
 bottom of the cliff." 
 
 " It will be of no use," said Sharpley. 
 
 " We can at least find the body and give it 
 decent burial. Baptiste, is there no way of 
 descending?" 
 
 " Yes," said Baptiste, " but we shall need 
 to go a long distance around." 
 
 " How long will it take ?" 
 
 " An hour ; perhaps more." 
 
 " I am ready to go, for one," said Mr. Aber 
 crombie. " Will you go, Mr. Sharpley ?" 
 
 " I do not feel equal to the exertion. I am 
 too agitated." 
 
 Glances of pity were directed toward him. 
 
 " Baptiste," said Abercrombie, " if you 
 will guide me, and any one else who chooses 
 to join the expedition, I will pay you double 
 price." 
 
 " Monsieur," said Baptiste, who had feel- 
 
220 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 ings, though not indifferent to money, " I will 
 guide you for nothing, out of regard for the 
 poor boy." 
 
 " You are an honest fellow," said Mr. Aber- 
 crornbie, grasping his hand warmly. " You 
 shall not lose by it." 
 
 " May I go, father ?" asked Henry. 
 
 " No, my son. The exertion will be too 
 great for you. Go home with the rest of the 
 party." 
 
 In silence the party returned to the Hotel 
 du Glacier. Most were appalled by the sad 
 fate of Frank Hunter, but Sharpley was 
 moved by another feeling. There was not 
 much chance of Frank s being found alive, 
 or in a condition to expose his murderous at 
 tempt, but, of course, there was a slight pos 
 sibility. While that existed he felt ill at ease. 
 He would gladly have left the place at once, 
 but this he could not do without exciting sus 
 picion. He must wait till the return of the 
 party. 
 
 It was not till nightfall that the party were 
 seen returning. Sharpley waited for their 
 report in great suspense. 
 
A USELESS SEARCH. 221 
 
 " Have you found him ?" he demanded, pale 
 with excitement. 
 
 Baptiste shook his head. 
 
 He gave a sigh of quiet relief, which was 
 interpreted to be a sigh of sorrow. " I 
 thought you would not," he said. 
 
 The next day he left the hotel. 
 " I must go to America," he said, " to tell 
 Frank s mother the terrible truth. I cannot 
 trust it to a letter/ 
 
 " But suppose the body is found," said Bap 
 tiste. 
 
 " Bury it decently and write instantly to 
 me, and I will transmit the necessary sum. 
 Or, hold, here are a hundred and fifty 
 francs. If he is not found, keep them your 
 self." 
 
 An hour later he was on his way to Paris. 
 
222 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 MR. TARBOX ON THE TRAIL. 
 
 QO this is the Hotel de Bugs," said 
 O Jonathan Tarbox, as, carpet-bag in 
 hand, he approached, with long strides, the 
 well-known Hotel des Bergues in Geneva. 
 " It looks like a nice sort of a hotel. I 
 wonder if Frank and that rascally humbug 
 are stoppin here. .I d give twenty-five 
 cents to see that boy s face. Strange what 
 a fancy I ve took to him. He s a reg lar 
 gentleman ; as quick and sharp as a steel- 
 trap." 
 
 Mr. Tarbox had walked from the railway 
 station. He was naturally economical, and, 
 having all his life been accustomed to walk, 
 thought it a waste and extravagance to take a 
 carriage. He had inquired his way by sim 
 ply pronouncing the name of the hotel as 
 
MR. TARBOX ON THE TRAIL. 223 
 
 above. The similarity in sound was sufficient 
 to insure a correction. 
 
 He entered the hotel and found the land 
 lord. 
 
 " I say, captain, I want to put up here to 
 night." 
 
 " Will monsieur have a room ?" asked the 
 host, politely. 
 
 " If you mean me, that s what I want ; but 
 I ain t a monseer at all. I m a Yankee." 
 
 " Monsieur Yang-kee ?" said the landlord, 
 a little puzzled. 
 
 ;< Look here, captain, I ain t a monseer 
 I don t eat frogs. Do I look like it. No, I m 
 a straight-down, dyed-in-the-wool Yankee, 
 from Squashboro , State o Maine." 
 
 " Will you have a room ?" asked the land 
 lord, avoiding the word monsieur, which he 
 perceived the other disclaimed, for some rea 
 son which he could not very well compre 
 hend. 
 
 " Yes, I will, if I can get one cheap. I 
 don t want none of your big apartments, that 
 cost like blazes. I want a little room, with a 
 bed in it, and a chair." 
 
224 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " We have pet-its apartements very small 
 price." 
 
 " Give me one, then. Oh, hold on ; is there 
 a boy named Frank Hunter stoppin here, 
 with a man named Sharpley ?" 
 
 " Non, monsieur. He has been here, but 
 he is gone." 
 
 " Gone ? When did he go ?" 
 
 " Three days ago." 
 
 " Three days !" repeated Mr. Tarbox, 
 thoughtfully. " He didn t stay long, then ?" 
 
 "Only one night." 
 
 " Seems to me he was in a hurry. Isn t 
 there nothin worth seein round here ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, monsieur," said the landlord, 
 with animation. " Geneve is a very interest 
 ing city. Would you not like to see how 
 they make the watches, and the boxes of mu- 
 siquef There are many places here that stran 
 gers do visit. There is the cathedral and the 
 Musee. Monsieur should stay here one two 
 weeks." 
 
 " And put up at your tavern ?" 
 
 " Eh ?" 
 
 " And stop up at your hotel ?" 
 
MR. TARBOX ON THE TRAIL. 225 
 
 " Certaincment, monsieur." 
 
 "That s what I thought. Anyhow, I ll 
 stay here till to-morrow. But about this old 
 rascal " 
 
 "Monsieur?" 
 
 " I mean this Sharpley, and the boy 
 where did they go ?" 
 
 " I know not, monsieur. They went to see 
 the mountains." 
 
 " Well, captain, as mountains in this neigh 
 borhood are about as thick as huckleberry 
 bushes in a pastur , I ain t none the wiser 
 for that. Couldn t you tell me a little 
 plainer ?" 
 
 But this the landlord, or captain, as Mr. 
 Tarbox insisted upon calling him, was unable 
 to do. As there was nothing else to be done, 
 our Yankee friend selected a room on the top 
 floor, which, by reason of its elevation, he was 
 enabled to get for two francs a day. 
 
 In European hotels the rooms become 
 cheaper the higher up they are, and thus va 
 rious prices are paid at the same hotel. It is 
 not necessarily expensive, therefore, sojourn 
 ing at a first-class hotel abroad ; and, indeed, 
 
 15 
 
226 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 it is better than to take lower rooms in an 
 inferior inn, supposing the traveler s means 
 to be limited. 
 
 " Well," said Mr. Tarbox, looking about 
 him, when he was fairly installed in his room, 
 " my journey ain t going to cost me so much, 
 after all. I come third class to Geneva for 
 less n ten dollars, and I can live here pretty 
 cheap. But that ain t the question. AVhere- 
 abouts among these hills is Frank ? That s 
 what I d like to know. I wonder what that 
 step-father of his meant by his talk about ac 
 cidents ? If anything happens to Frank, and 
 I find it out, I ll stir em up, as sure as my 
 name s Jonathan Tarbox. But I m getting 
 hungry ; I ll go down and see what kind of 
 fodder they can give me. I guess I d better 
 clean up first, for I m as dirty as ef I d been 
 out in the field plowin ." 
 
 Mr. Tarbox made a satisfactory supper at 
 moderate expense. He didn t go to the table 
 d hote, for, as he said, "They bring you a 
 mouthful of this, and a mouthful of that, and 
 when you re through ten or eleven courses, 
 you have to pay a dollar, more or less, and 
 
MR. TARBOX ON THE TRAIL. 227 
 
 are as hungry as when you began. I d rather 
 order something a la carle, as they call it, 
 though what it has to do with a cart is more 
 than I can tell, and then I can get enough, 
 and don t have so much to pay neither." 
 
 Mr. Tarbox made further inquiries the 
 next day, but could not ascertain definitely 
 in what direction the travelers had gone. 
 There were several possible routes, and they 
 were as likely to have gone by one as by an 
 other. Under the circumstances it seemed to 
 him that it was better to remain where he 
 was. There was a chance of the two returning 
 by way of Geneva, and they would be likely 
 to come to the same hotel ; while if he started 
 off in one direction, it would very probably 
 turn out that they had gone by another. One 
 circumstance certainly favored his decision 
 it was cheaper remaining in Geneva than 
 in journeying off at random in search of 
 Frank, and Mr. Tarbox, therefore, decided to 
 patronize the Hotel des Bergues for a short 
 time at least, trying, meanwhile, to get some 
 clew to the whereabouts of the travelers. He 
 improved the time by visiting the objects of 
 
228 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 interest in Geneva, bewildering the natives by 
 his singular remarks, and amusing strangers 
 with whom he came in contact. Some were 
 disposed to regard him as a specimen of the 
 average American. Indeed, he bore a strik 
 ing resemblance to the typical American in 
 troduced by our English friends in their 
 books of travel and in their dramatic pro 
 ductions. 
 
 He did indeed possess some national char 
 acteristics. He was independent, fearless, 
 self-reliant, hating injustice and oppression, 
 but he was without the polish, or culture, or 
 refinement which are to be found in the 
 traveling Americans quite as commonly as in 
 the traveling Englishman or German. He 
 is presented here as a type of a class which 
 does exist, but not as an average American. 
 
 It struck Mr. Tarbox that he might obtain 
 some information of those whom he sought 
 by inquiring of the travelers who came daily 
 to the hotel, whether they had met with such 
 a party. No diffidence held him back from 
 questioning closely all who came. 
 
 Some treated him with hauteur, and tried 
 
MR. TARBOX ON THE TRAIL. 229 
 
 to abash him by impressing him with the un 
 warrantable liberty he was taking in intrud 
 ing himself upon their notice. 
 
 In general, however, these were snobs, of 
 some wealth, but doubtful social position, who 
 felt it necessary to assert themselves upon all 
 occasions. 
 
 But Mr. Tarbox was not one to be daunted 
 by coldness, or abashed by a repellant man 
 ner. He persisted in his questions until he 
 learned what he wanted. But his questions 
 were without a satisfactory answer until one 
 day he saw a gentleman and his son, whom 
 by their appearance he took to be fellow- 
 countrymen. They were, in fact, Henry 
 Abercrombie and his father, fresh from the 
 scene of the accident. 
 
 Mr. Tarbox introduced himself and pro 
 pounded his question. 
 
 Father and son exchanged a look of sad 
 ness. 
 
 " He means poor Frank, father," said 
 Henry. 
 
 " Poor Frank !" repeated Mr. Tarbox, 
 eagerly. " What makes you say that ?" 
 
230 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Were you a friend of the boy ?" asked 
 Mr. Abercrombie. 
 
 " Yes, and I am still. He s a tip-top fel 
 low, Frank is." 
 
 " I am sorry, then, to be the bearer of sad 
 tidings." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" asked Jonathan, 
 quickly. " Don t say anything has happened 
 to the boy." 
 
 " But there has. He fell over a cliff, and 
 though his body has not been found, he was 
 probably killed instantly." 
 
 " Who was with him when he fell ?" asked 
 Mr. Tarbox, excited. 
 
 " His guardian, Mr. Sharpley. The two 
 had wandered off by themselves, without a 
 guide. Frank approached too near the edge 
 of the cliff, lost his balance, and fell." 
 
 " That confounded skunk pushed him 
 over !" exclaimed Mr. Tarbox, in high excite 
 ment. 
 
 " You don t mean Colonel Sharpley ?" ex 
 claimed Mr. Abercrombie, in surprise. 
 
 " Yes, I do. I followed them from Paris, 
 because I was afraid of it." 
 
MR. TARBOX ON THE TRAIL. 231 
 
 " But it is incredible. I assure you Colo 
 nel Sharpley showed great sorrow for the 
 accident." 
 
 " Then he s a hypocrite ! If you want 
 proof of "what I say, just read that letter." 
 
232 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL, 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 TAEBOX TO THE EESCUE, 
 
 THUS invited, Mr. Abercrombie read the 
 letter of Mr. Craven, in which he re 
 ferred to the possibility of an accident befall 
 ing Frank. 
 
 " What does this prove ?" asked the reader, 
 looking up. 
 
 "It proves that Sharpley pushed Frank 
 over the cliff," said Mr. Tarbox, excitedly. 
 
 " I don t see that it does." 
 
 " Don t you see how he speaks of what is 
 to be done if an accident happens ?" 
 
 " Yes, but" 
 
 " Doesn t that show that he expects it ?" 
 
 " But we must establish a motive. What 
 reason could Mr. Craven have for the murder 
 of his step-son ?" 
 
 " I ll tell you, for Frank told me all about 
 
TARBOX TO THE RESCUE. 233 
 
 it. Frank s got money, and so has his mother, 
 but Frank s got the most. If he dies, his 
 property goes to his mother. His loss will 
 kill her, for she s delicate, so Frank says, and 
 then this Craven will step into the whole of 
 it. Don t you see ?" 
 
 "There is something in that," said Mr. 
 Abercrombie, thoughtfully. " Indeed, it 
 would explain a part of Colonel Sharpley s 
 conduct on the day of the accident." 
 
 "What did he do?" asked Mr. Tarbox, 
 eagerly. 
 
 " I invited him to accompany my son and 
 myself on an excursion. He refused, saying 
 that he didn t feel like the exertion of an 
 ascent. Then I invited Frank to accompany 
 us, but he refused to let him go. He said 
 he might take a short tramp, and wanted his 
 company." 
 
 "The skunk!" 
 
 " Again, though urged afterward to take a 
 guide, he refused to do so, but took a long 
 walk he and the boy being alone." 
 
 " I d like to wring his neck !" ejaculated 
 Jonathan. 
 
234 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Besides, Frank could not have fallen un 
 less he was very imprudent. Now, he never 
 struck me as a rash or heedless boy." 
 
 " He wasn t," 
 
 " It doesn t seem at all like him voluntarily 
 to place himself in such peril, yet Colonel 
 Sharpley says he did." 
 
 " He lies, the murderous skunk !" 
 
 " It did not strike me at first, hut I fear 
 that you are right, and that the poor hoy has 
 been foully dealt with." 
 
 " Isn t there any hope ?" asked Mr. Tarbox, 
 blowing his nose violently in order to get a 
 chance to wipe away the tears which the sup 
 posed sad fate of our hero called forth. " How 
 high was the hill ?" 
 
 " I fear there is no hope. We searched for 
 the body, but did not find it," 
 
 " Then he may be living," said Mr. Tar- 
 box, brightening up, 
 
 " There is hardly a chance of it, I should 
 say," returned Mr. Abercrombie, gravely. 
 " The descent was deep and precipitous." 
 
 " Where is the villain Sharpley ?" 
 
 " He left the next day. He said he should 
 
TARBOX TO THE RESCUE. 235 
 
 hurry back to America to carry the sad news 
 to the parents of the poor boy." 
 
 " And get his pay from Craven." 
 
 " I hope, Mr. Tarbox, that your suspicions 
 are groundless. I should be very unwilling 
 to believe in such wickedness." 
 
 " I hope so, too. If it was an accident I 
 should think it was the will of God ; but if 
 that villain has murdered him I know it 
 ain t. I wish I could overhaul Sharpley." 
 
 11 What do you propose to do, Mr. Tar- 
 box ?" 
 
 " I ll tell you, Mr. Abercrombie. Fust and 
 foremost, I m going to that place where the 
 accident happened, and I mean to find Frank 
 dead or alive. If he s dead, I ll try to find 
 out if he was murdered or not. If he s alive, 
 I ll take care of him, and he ll tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 " Mr. Tarbox," said the other, taking his 
 hand, " I respect you for the strength of your 
 attachment to the poor lad. I saw but little 
 of him, but enough to be assured that he was 
 a bold, manly boy, of a noble nature and a 
 kind disposition. Pardon me for the offer I 
 
236 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 am about to make, but I hope you will allow 
 me to pay the expenses of this investigation. 
 You give your time ; let me give my money, 
 which is of less value." 
 
 " Thank you, Mr. Abercrombie," said Mr. 
 Tarbox. " You re a gentleman ; but I ve got 
 a little money, and I d just as lief use it for 
 Frank. I ll pay my own expenses." 
 
 * At any rate, I will give you my address, 
 and if you get short of money I hope you will 
 apply to me without fail." 
 
 " I will, squire," said Jonathan. 
 
 So they parted. 
 
 Mr. Tarbox set out immediately for the 
 Hotel du Glacier. 
 
SAVED AS BY A MIEACLE. 237 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 SAVED AS BY A MIRACLE. 
 
 BUT where all this while was Frank? 
 Had he really fallen a victim to the 
 murderous designs of his treacherous guar 
 dian ? My readers have been kept too long 
 in suspense as to his fate. 
 
 At the moment of falling he was fully 
 conscious, but too late, of his companion s 
 treachery. In that terrible moment there 
 flashed upon him a full knowledge of the plot 
 of which he was a victim, and he had time to 
 connect with it his step- father as the prime 
 author and instigator of the deed. It was 
 indeed a terrible experience. In the full flush 
 of youthful life and strength the gates of 
 death swung open before him, and he gave 
 himself up for lost, resigning himself to his 
 fearful fate as well as he could. 
 
238 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 But there was one thought of anguish his 
 mother ! How would she grieve over his un 
 timely death ! And the wretch who had in 
 stigated his murder, would he stop short, 
 content, or would he next assail her? 
 
 In times of danger the mind acts quickly. 
 All these thoughts passed through the mind 
 of our hero as he fell, but all at once there 
 was a violent shock. He had stopped falling, 
 yet he was not dead, only stunned. There 
 was a ledge part way down, a hollow rilled 
 with soft snow making a natural bed, and it 
 was upon this that he had fallen. Yet, soft as 
 it was, the shock was sufficient to deprive him 
 of consciousness. 
 
 When he became sensible of surrounding 
 objects that is, when his consciousness re 
 turned he looked about him in bewilder 
 ment. 
 
 Where was he ? 
 
 Not surely on the ledge, for, looking around 
 him, he saw the walls of a small and humble 
 apartment, scantily provided with needful 
 furniture. He w r as lying upon a bed, a poor 
 wooden bedstead. There was another person 
 
SAVED AS BY A MIRACLE. 239 
 
 in the room a woman, so humbly attired 
 that he knew she was a Swiss peasant. 
 
 "Where am I?" he asked, bewildered. 
 
 The woman turned quickly, and her 
 homely, sun -browned face glowed with pleas 
 ure. 
 
 " You are awake, monsieur ?" she said, in 
 the French language. 
 
 I have already said that Frank was a 
 French scholar, and could understand the 
 language to a limited extent, as well as speak 
 it somewhat. He understood her, and an 
 swered in French : 
 
 " Yes, madame, I am awake. Will you 
 kindly tell rne where I am ?" 
 
 " You met with an accident, monsieur. My 
 husband and my brother were upon the 
 mountain, and found you on a ledge covered 
 with snow 7 ." 
 
 " I remember," said Frank, shuddering. 
 " When was that ?" 
 
 " Yesterday. You have slept since then. 
 How do you feel ?" 
 
 " I feel sore and bruised. Are any of my 
 limbs broken?" 
 
240 FKANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 He moved his arms and legs, but, to liis 
 great joy, ascertained that though sore, no 
 bones were broken. 
 
 " It was a wonderful escape," said the 
 woman. " You must have fallen from the 
 cliff above/ 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " But for falling on the ledge, you would 
 have been killed." 
 
 " Yes," answered Frank, " but Heaven be 
 thanked, I have escaped." 
 
 " How did you fall ?" asked the woman. 
 " That was what my husband and my 
 brother, Antoine, could not understand. You 
 must have been leaning over." 
 
 Frank paused. 
 
 " I cannot tell you now," he answered. 
 " Perhaps I will soon." 
 
 " When you please, monsieur, but you must 
 be hungry." 
 
 " I am indeed hungry, madame. I suppose 
 it is more than twenty-four hours since I 
 have tasted anything." 
 
 " Poor boy !" said the woman, compassion 
 ately. " I will at once get you something to 
 
SAVED AS BY A MIRACLE. 241 
 
 eat. We are poor people, monsieur, and you 
 may not like our plain fare." 
 
 " Don t speak of it, madame. You are only 
 too kind to me. I can eat anything." 
 
 Frank had only spoken the truth. He was 
 almost famished ; and when the food was set 
 before him, plain as it was, he ate with eager 
 satisfaction, to the evident pleasure of his 
 kindly hostess. But in sitting up, he realized 
 by the soreness of his limbs and the aching 
 of his back, that though no bones were bro 
 ken, he was far from being in a condition to 
 get up. It was with a feeling of relief that 
 he sank back upon the bed, and with listless 
 eyes watched the movements of his hostess. 
 He was not equal to the exertion of forming 
 plans for the future. 
 
 16 
 
242 FRANK HUNTER S PEEIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 FRANK S PEDESTRIAN TOUR. 
 
 A LTHOUGH Frank was pretty well 
 J\. bruised by his fall, his youth and the 
 vigor of his constitution enabled him to re 
 cover rapidly from the effects of the shock. 
 On the third day he got up and took a short 
 walk. On the fifth day he felt well enough 
 to leave his hospitable entertainers. 
 
 But where should he go ? 
 
 Should he return to the Hotel du Glacier 
 and place himself again in the clutches of 
 his treacherous guardian ? He felt that to be 
 out of the question. Besides, he rightly con 
 jectured that Sharpley had already left the 
 hotel. No, he must detach himself wholly 
 from his enemy. He must rely upon him 
 self. He must get home the best way he 
 could, and then expose the conspirators, for he 
 was convinced that Mr. Craven was involved 
 in it. But a serious difficulty presented itself. 
 
FRANK S PEDESTRIAN TOUR. 243 
 
 He was about four thousand miles from home, 
 and to return, as well as to stay where he was, 
 required money. This led him to an exam 
 ination of his finances. He never carried 
 much money with him, Sharpley being treas 
 urer. Opening his pocket-book, he found he 
 had sixty francs only, or about twelve dollars 
 in gold. Now, as my readers will readily 
 judge, twelve dollars is hardly adequate for a 
 return journey from Switzerland to America. 
 
 Had Frank been dismayed at this situation 
 it would hardly have created surprise, but, on 
 the contrary, he felt in very good spirits. 
 
 " I don t believe I shall starve," he said to 
 himself. " If I can only get to Paris, I will 
 seek out Mr. Tarbox, and I am sure he will 
 lend me money enough to get home." 
 
 But had he enough to get to Paris ? Barely 
 enough to travel third class ; but then he must 
 remember the good people who had found 
 and taken care of him. For this alone, twelve 
 dollars was inadequate. But he could take 
 their names, and promise to send them more 
 from America. 
 
 His difficulty would have been far less great 
 
244 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 had he known that at that very moment Mr. 
 Tarbox had just arrived at the Hotel du Gla 
 cier in search of him, prepared to help him to 
 the best of his ability. But of this he knew 
 nothing. 
 
 So, on the morning of the fifth day, Frank 
 announced to his humble friends that he must 
 leave them. 
 
 " But are you ^trong enough, monsieur ?" 
 asked the peasant s wife. 
 
 " Oh, yes, madame ; thanks to your kind 
 care, I am quite recovered." 
 
 " And monsieur will go to his friends ?" 
 
 " I have no friends in Europe." 
 
 " What I so young and alone ?" 
 
 " I did not come alone. I came in charge 
 of a man whom I thought friendly, but it was 
 he who threw me over the cliff and nearly 
 killed me." 
 
 " Surely, monsieur is mistaken !" exclaimed 
 the woman, astonished. 
 
 "No," answered Frank. "He is my en 
 emy. It is a long story ; but at home I am 
 rich, and I think he is employed by my step 
 father to kill me." 
 
FRANK S PEDESTRIAN TOUR. 245 
 
 In answer to questions, Frank gave a gen 
 eral account of the circumstances to the worthy 
 people, and closed by saying : " When I have 
 returned to America, I shall send you suitable 
 compensation for your kindness. Now, I can 
 only give you enough to pay what you have 
 expended for me." 
 
 He drew from his pocket two Napoleons 
 (two-thirds of his available means), and in 
 sisted upon their acceptance. They at first 
 refused to take the money, but finally ac 
 cepted it. 
 
 Had they known that Frank would be left 
 with but twenty francs himself, they would 
 have taken nothing, but Americans abroad are 
 popularly supposed to be even richer than 
 they are, and it never occurred to them to 
 suspect our hero s present poverty. 
 
 They stood in the doorway, watching him 
 as he started off with a firm step, and a heart 
 almost as light as his purse, and heartily 
 joined in the wish, " Bon voyage, mon 
 
 sieur." 
 
 Frank waved his hat, smiling, and set out 
 on his way. 
 
246 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 Had our hero been well provided with 
 money, nothing could have been more agree 
 able than a pedestrian journey amid the beau 
 tiful scenery of the Alps. Even as it was, 
 Frank felt the exhilarating influences of the 
 fresh morning air and the grand scenery, 
 visible on all sides, for he was hemmed in by 
 mountains. 
 
 His proposed terminus being Paris, he 
 kept a general northwesterly course, making 
 inquiries when at all at a loss as to the 
 road. 
 
 At midday he found himself in a little vil 
 lage. By this time he was hungry. He did 
 not go to a hotel. He felt that his slender 
 store of money would not justify it. He 
 stopped, instead, at a cottage, and for a few 
 cents obtained a pint of milk and a small 
 loaf. This fare was plain enough, but appe 
 tite is the best sauce, and his hunger made it 
 taste delicious. 
 
 He rested for three hours, then, when the 
 sun s rays were less powerful, he resumed his 
 journey. 
 
 At seven o clock in the evening he had ac- 
 
FRANK S PEDESTRIAN TOUR. 247 
 
 complished about twenty-five miles, and was 
 foot-sore and weary. He selected another 
 cottage, and made application for supper and 
 a bed. 
 
 " Monsieur will do better to go to the 
 hotel," said the peasant. " We are poor 
 people, and our accommodations are too 
 humble for a gentleman like monsieur." 
 
 Frank smiled. He saw that they judged of 
 his means by his clothing, which was of fine 
 texture and fashionable cut, for he had pur 
 chased a traveling suit in London. 
 
 " I have been robbed of nearly all my 
 money," he explained (this was true, for it 
 was in Sharpley s possession), "and I cannot 
 afford to go to the hotel. If you will let me 
 stay here, I will gladly accept what accommo 
 dations you have to offer." 
 
 " Oh, in that case, monsieur," said the 
 peasant s wife, cheerfully, " you are quite wel 
 come. Come right in." 
 
 Frank entered. He soon had set before 
 him a supper of bread, milk and honey, to 
 which he did ample justice. Then he asked 
 permission to bathe his feet, which were 
 
248 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 sore. At nine o clock lie went to bed, and, 
 as might have been expected, enjoyed a sound 
 sleep, which refreshed him not a little. 
 
 I have described this one day as a specimen 
 of the manner in which Frank traveled. The 
 charges were so small that he made his money 
 go a long way. But the stock was so small 
 that it steadily became less with formidable 
 rapidity, and our young hero found himself 
 with poverty staring him in the face. He 
 had traveled over a hundred miles, nearly a 
 hundred and fifty, when, on counting his 
 money, he found that he had but forty cents 
 (or two francs) left. This was a serious state 
 of things. 
 
 "What shall I do?" thought Frank, as 
 he sat down by the wayside to reflect on his 
 situation. " To-morrow I shall be penniless, 
 and I must be six or seven hundred miles 
 from Paris, more or less. One thing is cer 
 tain, I can t travel for nothing. What shall 
 I do?" 
 
 Frank reflected that if he were in America 
 he would seek for a job at sawing wood, or 
 any other kind of unskilled labor for which 
 
FRANK S PEDESTRIAN TOUR. 249 
 
 he was competent. He could hire himself 
 out for a month, till he could obtain money 
 enough to prosecute his journey. But it was 
 evident that there was very little chance of 
 this resource here. The peasants at whose 
 cottages he stopped were poor in money ; they 
 had none to spare, and they did their own 
 work. Besides, it was not likely that his ser 
 vices would be worth much to them. There 
 was one thing he might do. He might remain 
 over a few days somewhere, and write mean 
 while to Jonathan Tarbox, in Paris, asking 
 him to send him fifty francs or so. But, 
 somehow, Frank did not like to do this. As 
 we know, it would have done no good, as Mr. 
 Tarbox was now in Switzerland seeking him. 
 He felt that he would like to make his way to 
 Paris unaided if possible. But how to do it 
 was a difficult problem. 
 
 He was plunged in deep reflection on this 
 point when his attention was called to a boy 
 of seven, who came running past crying and 
 sobbing. 
 
 " Qu" avez vous?" asked Frank ; or, "What 
 is the matter with you ?" 
 
250 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Oh, I can t understand French," said the 
 boy. 
 
 " What is the matter ?" asked our hero, in 
 English. 
 
 " I am lost," was the reply. " I don t know 
 where papa or sister is." 
 
 " Don t cry. I will help you to find them. 
 But, first, tell me what is your name, and 
 how you happened to get lost." 
 
 " My name is Herbert Grosvenor," an 
 swered the little fellow. 
 
 He went on to say that his father was a 
 London merchant, who was traveling with 
 himself and his sister Beatrice. He had 
 walked out in charge of a servant, but the 
 latter had stopped at an inn and became 
 drunk. Then he became so violent that 
 Herbert was afraid and ran away. But he 
 was too young to know the road, and had lost 
 his way. 
 
 "I shall never see my papa again," he 
 sobbed. 
 
 " Oh, yes, you will," said Frank, encourag 
 ingly. " I will take you to him. Do you 
 remember where he is stopping ?" 
 
FRANK S PEDESTRIAN TOUR. 251 
 
 The boy was luckily able to answer cor 
 rectly that his father was stopping at the 
 Hotel de la Couronne, in a large town, which 
 Frank knew to be only two miles distant. 
 
 " Come, Herbert," he said, cheerfully, " I 
 will carry you back to your father. Take my 
 hand, and we will set out at once, if you are 
 not tired." 
 
 " Oh, no, I am not tired. I can walk/ 
 said the little boy, brightening up, and put 
 ting his hand with confidence in that of his 
 young protector. 
 
252 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 NEW FRIEXDS. 
 
 WHEN Frank arrived at the hotel with 
 his young charge he found the Gros- 
 venor family in great dismay. The servant 
 had returned, evidently under the influence 
 of liquor, quite unable to give any account 
 of the little boy. A party, headed by Mr. 
 Grosvenor, was about starting out in search 
 of him, when he made his appearance, cling 
 ing trustfully to the hand of our hero. 
 
 "Oh, you naughty runaway !" said his 
 sister Beatrice, a lovely girl of twelve, folding 
 Herbert in a sisterly embrace. " How you 
 have frightened us !" 
 
 " I couldn t help it, sister," said Herbert. 
 
 " What made you run away from Thomas, 
 my boy ?" asked his father. 
 
 " I was afraid of him," said Herbert. " He 
 was so strange." 
 
 The cause of the strange conduct was evi- 
 

 I 
 
 
 THE LITTLE RUNAWAY. 
 
NEW FRIENDS. 253 
 
 dent enough to any one who saw the servant s 
 present condition, for he was too stupefied 
 even to defend himself. 
 
 "It s a shame, father," said Beatrice. 
 " Only think, our darling little Herbie might 
 have been lost. I hope you will never trust 
 him again with Thomas." 
 
 " I shall not," said the father, decidedly. 
 " Thomas has forfeited my confidence, and he 
 must leave my service. I shall pay his pas 
 sage back to London, and there he must shift 
 for himself." 
 
 " You have not thanked the young gentle 
 man who brought him back, father," said 
 Beatrice, in a low voice. 
 
 Mr. Grosvenor turned to Frank. 
 
 " Accept my warmest thanks, young gen 
 tleman," he said, " for your kindness to my 
 little son." 
 
 "It was only a trifle, sir," said our hero, 
 modestly. 
 
 " It was no trifle to us. How did you hap 
 pen to meet him ?" 
 
 " I was resting by the road-side, when he 
 came along, crying. I asked him what was 
 
254 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 the matter, and he told me. -Then I offered 
 to guide him to you." 
 
 " And thereby relieved our deep anxiety. 
 We were very much frightened when Thomas 
 returned without him." 
 
 " I don t wonder, sir." 
 
 " You are English, I infer," said Mr. Gros- 
 venor. 
 
 " No, sir ; I am an American." 
 
 " You are not traveling alone at your 
 age?" said the merchant, in surprise. 
 
 " I was not that is, I came from America 
 with another person, but I parted from him 
 in Switzerland." 
 
 Frank refrained from explaining under 
 what circumstances he parted from Sharpley, 
 partly from a natural reluctance to revive so 
 unpleasant a subject, partly because he did 
 not like to trouble the Grosvenors with his 
 affairs. 
 
 " It must be lonely traveling without 
 friends," said Mr. Grosvenor. " My daughter 
 and I would feel glad to have you join our 
 party." 
 
 " Oh, yes, papa !" said Beatrice. 
 
NEW FRIENDS. 255 
 
 Frank turned towards the beautiful girl 
 who spoke so impulsively, and he could not 
 help feeling that it would indeed be a pleasure 
 to travel in her society. I don t mean to 
 represent him as in love, for at his age that 
 would be foolish ; but he had never had a 
 sister, and it seemed to him that he would 
 have been glad to have such a sister as Bea 
 trice. But how could he, with less than forty 
 sous to defray his traveling expenses, join the 
 party of a wealthy London merchant ? Had 
 he the money that rightfully belonged to him, 
 now in Sharpley s hands, there would have 
 been no difficulty. 
 
 " You hesitate," said Mr. Grosvenor. " Per 
 haps it would interfere with your plans to go 
 with us." 
 
 " No, sir ; it is not that," and Frank hesi 
 tated again. 
 
 It was an embarrassing moment, but he 
 decided quickly to make the merchant ac 
 quainted with his circumstances. 
 
 " If you will favor me with five minutes 
 private conversation," he said, " I will tell you 
 why I hesitate." 
 
256 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Grosvenor, politely, 
 and led the way into the hotel. 
 
 The nature of Frank s explanation is, of 
 course, anticipated by the reader. He related, 
 as briefly as possible, the particulars of Sharp- 
 ley s plot. The merchant listened with sur 
 prise. 
 
 " This is certainly a singular story/ 7 he 
 said, " and you have been treated with the 
 blackest treachery. Do you know, or do you 
 guess, what has become of this man ?" 
 
 " I don t know. I think he has started to 
 return to America, or will do so soon." 
 
 "And what are your plans?" 
 
 " I mean to go to Paris. There I have a 
 friend who I think will help me an Ameri 
 can with whom I became acquainted on the 
 voyage over." 
 
 " I suppose you are poorly provided with 
 money ?" 
 
 " I have less than two francs left," Frank 
 acknowledged. 
 
 The merchant looked amazed. 
 
 " You were actually reduced to that ?" he 
 exclaimed, 
 
NEW FRIENDS. 257 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " How did you expect to get to Paris?" 
 
 Frank smiled. 
 
 " That is what puzzled me," he owned. " I 
 was sitting by the roadside thinking how I 
 should accomplish it when your little boy 
 came along." 
 
 Now it was Mr. Grosvenor s turn to smile. 
 
 " He solved it," he said. 
 
 " Who, sir ?" asked Frank. 
 
 " My little boy," said Mr. Grosvenor, still 
 smiling. 
 
 " I don t understand," said our hero, puz 
 zled. 
 
 " I mean that Herbert shall act as your 
 banker. That is, on account of your kindness 
 to him, I propose to add you to my party, and 
 advance you such sums as you may require." 
 
 "You are very kind, sir," said Frank, re 
 lieved and grateful. " I really don t know 
 what I should have done without some such 
 assistance." 
 
 " Then it is arranged, and you will join us 
 at dinner, which is already ordered. I will 
 order a room to be made ready for you." 
 
 17 
 
258 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " I hope, sir, you will excuse my dress," 
 said Frank, who, it must be confessed, might 
 have looked neater. He had walked for sev 
 eral days, and was in consequence very dusty. 
 Then again, his shirt and collar had been 
 worn ever since his accident, and were de 
 cidedly dirty. 
 
 " I am ashamed of my appearance, sir," 
 continued our hero ; " but Colonel Sharpley s 
 treachery compelled me to travel without my 
 trunk, and I have not even a change of 
 linen." 
 
 Mr. Grosvenor could not forbear smiling. 
 
 " You are certainly in an awkward condi 
 tion," he said. " I will apologize for you to 
 Beatrice, the only lady of our party, and we 
 will see after dinner if we cannot repair your 
 loss." 
 
 Frank used a brush diligently, and suc 
 ceeded in making his outer clothes presenta 
 ble ; but, alas ! no brush could restore the 
 original whiteness of his dingy linen; and he 
 flushed crimson as he entered the dining- 
 room, and by direction of Mr. Grosvenor took 
 a seat next to Beatrice, who looked so fresh 
 
NEW FRIENDS. 259 
 
 and rosy and clean as to make the contrast 
 even more glaring. But her cordial greeting 
 soon put him at ease. 
 
 " Papa has been telling me of that horrid 
 man who tried to kill you," she commenced. 
 " What a wretch he must be I" 
 
 "I think he is one," said Frank; " but 
 until the accident happened that is, till he 
 pushed me over the cliff I had no idea of 
 his design." 
 
 " And he left you without any money, 
 didn t he?" 
 
 " With very little just what I happened 
 to have about me. I paid most of that to the 
 peasant who found me and took care of me." 
 
 "Didn t you almost starve?" 
 
 " No ; but my meals were very plain. I 
 didn t dare to eat as much as I would have 
 liked." 
 
 " And I suppose that horrid man has gone 
 off with your money ?" said Beatrice, indig 
 nantly. 
 
 " Yes, miss." 
 
 " Her name isn t miss," said little Herbert. 
 " It s Beatrice." 
 
260 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Herbert is right," said Beatrice, smiling. 
 " I am not a young lady yet I am only 
 twelve." 
 
 " Then," said our hero, who was fast getting 
 to feel at home in his new surroundings, " as 
 I am not a young gentleman yet, I suppose 
 you will call me Frank." 
 
 " I will call you Frank," said Herbert. 
 
 " Then I suppose I must do so to be in 
 fashion," said Beatrice, laughing. 
 
 " I certainly don t look like a young gen 
 tleman in these dirty clothes," said our hero. 
 "Perhaps Herbert will lend me a suit?" 
 
 "I think," said Mr. Grosvenor, " we shall 
 be able to refit you without drawing from 
 Herbert s wardrobe." 
 
 So the conversation went on, and our hero, 
 before the dinner closed, found himself en 
 tirely at his ease in spite of his soiled clothes. 
 
HOW THE NEWS WENT HOME. 261 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 HOW THE NEWS WENT HOME. 
 
 TT^RANK had one source of anxiety and 
 I embarrassment connected with his re 
 cent adventure which had occupied a consid 
 erable space of his thoughts. 
 
 It was this. How could he let his mother 
 know that he was still alive without its coming 
 to the knowledge of Mr. Craven ? Convinced, 
 as he was, that his step- father was at the bot 
 tom of the treacherous plot to which he had 
 nearly fallen a victim, he wished him to sup 
 pose that it had succeeded in order to see 
 what course he would pursue in consequence. 
 His subsequent course would confirm his 
 share in the plot or relieve him from any 
 complicity, and Frank wanted to know, once 
 for all, whether he was to regard his step 
 father as a disguised and dangerous foe or not. 
 But he was not willing that his mother should 
 
262 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 rest long under the impression that he had 
 perished among the Alps. In her delicate 
 state of health he feared that it would prove 
 too much for her, and that it might bring on 
 a fit of sickness. He wished, therefore, in 
 some way, to communicate to her secretly the 
 knowledge that he had escaped. But if he 
 wrote Mr. Craven would see the letter or 
 know that one had been received. Evi 
 dently, therefore, he could not write directly 
 to her. 
 
 After some perplexity, he saw a way out of 
 the difficulty. 
 
 He had recently received a letter from his 
 old friend and school companion, Ben Came 
 ron, stating that the latter had gone to Wake- 
 field, ten miles distant, to spend two months 
 with an uncle, and asking Frank to direct his 
 next letter there. It flashed upon our hero 
 that he could write to Ben, giving him an ac 
 count of what had happened, and asking him 
 to acquaint his mother secretly, saying nothing 
 of this letter in case he should hear that he, 
 Frank, was dead. 
 
 The day after he joined the Grosveuor 
 
HOW THE NEWS WENT HOME. 263 
 
 party he carried out this plan, writing a 
 long letter to Ben, which terminated as fol 
 lows : 
 
 " I feel sure that Mr. Craven is at the bottom of 
 this attempt upon my life, and I think that his plan 
 is to get possession of my money. He knows that 
 mother s health would be very much affected by the 
 news of any fatal accident to me, and that she would 
 easily be induced to put all business into his hands. 
 He would find it very easy to cheat a woman. You 
 may ask why Colonel Sharpley should be induced 
 to join in such a plot. That I can t tell, but I think 
 he is not very rich, and that Mr. Craven has offered 
 to divide with him in case they succeed. Otherwise, 
 I can think of no motive he could have for attempt 
 ing to kill me. We have always been on good terms 
 so far as I know. 
 
 " I may be wrong in all this, but I don t think I 
 am. I suppose Colonel Sharpley has written home 
 that I am dead, and I think that he will soon go to 
 America to receive his pay for the deed. Now, Ben, 
 as you are my friend, I want you to manage to see 
 my mother privately, and tell her that I am well 
 perfectly well that I have escaped almost by a 
 miracle, and that though without money, I have 
 found friends who will supply all my needs and give 
 me money to return to America. She is not to let 
 anybody know that she has heard from me, but to 
 wait till I come home, as I shall soon. Especially 
 
264 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 if Mr. Craven tries to get hold of my property, tell 
 mother to resist and refuse utterly to allow it. I 
 advise her also to take care how she trusts Mr. 
 Craven with her own money. 
 
 "I shall not write you again, Ben, for fear my let 
 ters might be seen. But some day I shall come 
 home unexpectedly. Let mother see this letter and 
 then destroy it. 
 
 " Your affectionate friend, 
 
 "FRANK HUNTER." 
 
 It was fortunate that Frank wrote this let 
 ter ; but we must precede it, and, after a long 
 interval, look in upon the home he had left. 
 
 One day Mr. Craven took from the village 
 post-office a letter. 
 
 He opened it eagerly, and, as he read it, 
 his face showed the gratification which he felt. 
 But lest this should be noticed, he immedi 
 ately smoothed his face and assumed a look 
 of grave and hypocritical sadness. 
 
 This was the letter : 
 
 " DEAR MR CRAVEN : It is with great sorrow that 
 I sit down to write you this letter. I would, if I 
 could, commit to another hand the task of commu 
 nicating the terrible news which I have to impart. 
 Not to keep you longer in suspense, your step- son, 
 
HOW THE NEWS WENT HOME. 265 
 
 Frank Hunter, met with a fatal accident yesterday, 
 while ascending the Alps with me. He approached 
 too near the edge of a precipice, though I warned 
 him of his danger, and insisted on looking over. 
 Whether he became dizzy or slipped I cannot ex 
 plain, but, to my horror, a moment later I saw the 
 unfortunate boy slip over the edge and fall into the 
 terrible abyss. I sprang forward, hoping to catch 
 him, but was too late. I nearly fell over myself in 
 the vain attempt to save him. I almost wish I had 
 done so ; for, though the act was the result of his 
 own imprudence, I cannot help feeling responsible. 
 I ought to have exercised my authority and forcibly 
 restrained him from drawing near the fatal brink. 
 Yet I did not like to be too strict with a boy of his 
 age ; I feared he would dislike me. But I wish I 
 had run that risk. Anything would have been 
 better than to feel that I might have saved him and 
 neglected to do it. 
 
 " I sympathize deeply with you and his mother 
 in your sorrow at this bereavement. I shall sail for 
 America in two or three weeks, in order to give Mrs. 
 Craven and yourself a detailed account of this 
 calamity. I will bring home what things I have of 
 Frank s, thinking that it may be a sad satisfaction 
 to his mother to have them. 
 
 " I cannot write further. I have a terrible head 
 ache, and am completely used up by the sad scene 
 through which I have passed. 
 
 " Yours truly, " SIIAKPLEY." 
 
266 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 Mr. Craven took out this letter and read 
 it a second time on his way home. 
 
 " That s a good letter," he said to himself, 
 sardonically, " so full of sympathy, regret, 
 and that sort of thing. I couldn t have done 
 it better myself, and I have rather a talent 
 for such things. Egad ! Sharpley has sur 
 passed himself. I didn t give the fellow credit 
 for so much hypocrisy. So he s coming to 
 America to give us a detailed account of this 
 calamity, is he ? I know why he s coming. 
 It s to get pay for his share of the plot. Well, 
 if all goes well, I can afford to pay him well, 
 though I really think his price was too high. 
 Now that the young one is out of the way, I 
 must manage his mother, so as to get his 
 property into my hands. Forty thousand 
 dollars ! It will relieve me from all money 
 cares for the rest of my life." 
 
 As Mr. Craven approached the house, his 
 face assumed a grave and sorrowful expression. 
 He was preparing to inflict a crushing blow 
 upon the devoted mother, who was even then 
 counting the days to the probable return of 
 her beloved boy. 
 
HOW THE NEWS WENT HOME. 267 
 
 Entering the house, he met Katy in the 
 hall. 
 
 " Is your mistress in ?" he asked. 
 " Yes, sir ; she s up stairs. Have you heard 
 from Frank, sir ?" 
 
 " Yes, Katy," he answered in a significantly 
 doleful tone. 
 
 " Is anything the matter of him, sir ?" asked 
 Katy, taking the hint. 
 
 " Oh, Katy, I ve heard bad news," said Mr. 
 Craven, pulling out his white handkerchief, 
 and elaborately wiping his eyes. 
 
 " Bad news! What is it, sir?" demanded 
 Katy. 
 
 " I can t tell it," wailed Mr. Craven. 
 
 " Spit it out like a man !" exclaimed Katy, 
 impatiently. " Is the dear boy sick ?" 
 
 " Worse." 
 
 " He ain t dead !" ejaculated Katy, horror- 
 struck. 
 
 " Yes, he is ; he fell over a precipice in the 
 Alps, and was instantly killed." 
 
 " What s a precipice, sir ?" 
 
 " He was on a steep hill and he slipped over 
 the edge." 
 
268 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 Katy uttered a loud shriek, and sank on 
 the lower stair, and throwing her apron over 
 her face, began to utter what can only be de 
 signated as howls of grief. 
 
 Mrs. Craven from above was drawn to the 
 head of the landing by what she heard. 
 
 " What s the matter ?" she asked, in affright. 
 
 " Oh ! it s Master Frank, mum. He s kilt 
 dead, he is !" 
 
 "Is this true?" ejaculated Mrs. Craven, 
 looking toward her husband with pale face. 
 
 " Yes, my dear." 
 
 There was a low shriek, and the poor mo 
 ther sank to the floor in a dead faint. 
 
BEX BEINGS GOOD NEWS. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 BEN BRINGS GOOD NEWS. 
 
 TJHE news of Frank s death or supposed 
 death was a terrible shock to Mrs. 
 Craven. She was of a nervous organization, 
 and her attachment to her son was the greater 
 because he was her only child. She felt that 
 after his death she would have nothing left 
 worth living for. All her future plans and 
 prospects of happiness were connected with 
 him. Her husband, as we know, was nothing 
 to her. She had married him partly because 
 she thought he might be useful to Frank. 
 
 " I wish I could die, Katy," she wailed, ad 
 dressing her faithful attendant. 
 
 In this hour of her affliction, Katy was 
 nearer to her than Mr. Craven. 
 
 " Don t say that, missis," said Katy, sobbing 
 herself the while. 
 
270 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " What have I to live for, now that my 
 poor boy is dead?" And she indulged in a 
 fresh outburst of grief. " My heart is broken, 
 Katy." 
 
 " So is mine, mum broke right in two!" 
 answered Katy, sympathetically. 
 
 "To think that my poor boy should have 
 met with such a terrible death." 
 
 " He never knew what hurt him, mum. 
 That s one comfort." 
 
 "But I shall never see him again, Katy," 
 said the poor mother, sobbing. 
 
 " Yes, you will, mum in heaven." 
 
 " Then I hope I shall go there soon. Oh, 
 I wish I had never let him go." 
 
 " So do I, mum. He was so bright when 
 he went away, poor lad. He little thought 
 what was coming." 
 
 It was a comfort to Mrs. Craven in her dis 
 tress to speak to Katy, whose devotion she 
 knew. To Mr. Craven she did not feel like 
 speaking much. She knew that Frank had 
 never liked him, and this closed her lips. She 
 even, poor woman, accused herself for marry 
 ing again, since, had she not done so, Frank 
 
BEN BRINGS GOOD NEWS. 271 
 
 would not have gone abroad, and would still 
 be spared to her. 
 
 Mr. Craven wisely kept out of the way for 
 a time. He wanted to introduce business mat 
 ters, and so carry out the concluding portion 
 of his arrangement, but he felt that it would 
 be impolitic to do it at once. Mrs. Craven 
 was in no frame of mind to give attention to 
 such things. He could wait, though it was 
 irksome to do so. 
 
 Several days passed. Mrs. Craven s sharp 
 sorrow had given way to a dull feeling of 
 utter despondency. She kept to her room the 
 greater part of the time, looking as if she had 
 just emerged from a lengthened sickness. Mr. 
 Craven wandered about the village, suppress 
 ing his good spirits with difficulty when he 
 was at home, and assuming an expression of 
 sympathetic sadness. But, when by himself, 
 he would rub his hands and congratulate 
 himself on the near accomplishment of his 
 plans. 
 
 One day, when matters were in this state 
 of depression, Ben Cameron knocked at the 
 door. He had received Frank s letter, and 
 
272 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 had come over at once to deliver his mes 
 
 sage. 
 
 The door was opened by Katy, who knew 
 Een well as the most intimate friend of our 
 hero. 
 
 " Oh, Ben, we ve had bad news/ said Katy, 
 wiping her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, I ve heard it," said Ben. " How is 
 Mrs. Craven ?" 
 
 " Poor lady ! she s struck down wid grief. 
 It s killin her. She doted on that boy." 
 
 " Can I see her?" asked Ben. 
 
 " She don t feel like seein anybody." 
 
 " I think she ll see me, because I was 
 Frank s friend." 
 
 "Maybe she will. She know d you was 
 always intimate friends." 
 
 "Is Mr. Craven at home?" 
 
 " No. Did you want to see him ?" 
 
 " No. I wanted to see Mrs. Craven 
 alone." 
 
 " You don t like him no better n I do," said 
 Katy. 
 
 " I hate him!" exclaimed Ben, energeti 
 cally, bearing in mind Frank s suspicions that 
 
BEN BRINGS GOOD NEWS. 273 
 
 Mr. Craven was concerned in the attack upon 
 him. 
 
 " Good on your head !" said Katy, whose 
 manners and education did not preclude her 
 making occasional use of the slang of the 
 day. " I ll go up and see if my missis will see 
 you." 
 
 She returned almost immediately. 
 
 " Come right up," she said. "She ll be glad 
 to see Frank s friend." 
 
 When Ben entered the room where Mrs. 
 Craven, pale and wasted, sat in a rocking- 
 chair, she burst into tears. The sight of Ben 
 brought her boy more vividly to mind. 
 
 " How do you do, Mrs. Craven ?" said Ben. 
 
 " My heart is broken, Benjamin," she an 
 swered, sadly. " You have heard of my poor 
 boy s death ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have heard of it." 
 
 " You were his friend. You know how 
 good he was." 
 
 " Yes, Frank is the best fellow I know," 
 said Ben, warmly. 
 
 " You say is. Alas ! you forget that he is 
 
 no more." 
 
 18 
 
274 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 Katy Lad descended to the kitchen. Ben 
 looked cautiously around him. 
 
 " Mrs. Craven," he said, " can you keep a 
 secret ?" 
 
 She looked surprised. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, faintly. 
 
 " I am going to tell you something which 
 must be kept secret for awhile. Can you bear 
 good news ? Frank is alive !" 
 
 " Alive !" exclaimed the mother, jumping 
 from her chair, and fixing her eyes implor 
 ingly, almost incredulously, on her visitor. 
 
 " Yes. Don t be agitated, Mrs. Craven. 
 I have received a letter from him." 
 
 " Is it true ? Oh, tell me quickly. Didn t 
 he fall over the precipice?" 
 
 " Yes, he fell, but it was on a soft spot, and 
 he was saved." 
 
 " Heaven be praised ! Bless you for bring 
 ing such news. Tell me all about it." 
 
 Ben told the story in a few words, and then 
 showed the letter. How it eased and com 
 forted the poor mother s heart I need not say. 
 She felt as if life had been restored to her 
 once more. 
 
BEN BRINGS GOOD NEWS. 275 
 
 " You see, Mrs. Craven, that there is need 
 of silence and secrecy. We cannot tell 
 whether Frank s suspicions have any founda 
 tion or not. We must wait and see." 
 
 " Do you think Mr. Craven could have had 
 anything to do with the wicked plot?" ex 
 claimed Mrs. Craven, indignantly. 
 
 " Frank thinks so." 
 
 " I will tax him with it. If he framed such 
 a plot he shall answer for it," 
 
 " Hush, Mrs. Craven, Remember Frank s 
 wish. It will defeat his plans." 
 
 " It is true. I forgot. But how can I live 
 in the same house with a man who sought the 
 
 o 
 
 life of my poor boy ?" 
 
 " We are not sure of it." 
 
 " Do not fear. I will do as my boy wishes. 
 But I may tell him that I do not think he is 
 dead?" 
 
 " Yes, if you give no reason." 
 
 " And I should like to tell Katy. She, poor 
 girl, loves Frank almost as much as I do." 
 
 "Do you think Katy can keep it secret?" 
 
 " Yes, if I ask her to, and tell her it is 
 Frank s wish." 
 
276 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Then I think you can venture. I will 
 take the letter and destroy it, as Frank wanted 
 me to." 
 
 " Don t destroy it. You can keep it where 
 no one will see it." 
 
 When Ben went out he told Katy that her 
 mistress wished to see her. She went up, and 
 to her surprise found that Mrs. Craven had 
 thrown open the blind of the hitherto dark 
 ened chamber, and actually received her with 
 a smile. 
 
 Katy looked bewildered. 
 
 " Come here, Katy," said her mistress. 
 Then she whispered in Katy s ear, " Katy, 
 he s alive !" 
 
 " What !" exclaimed the handmaiden, in 
 credulously. 
 
 " Yes, it s true. He s written to Ben. But 
 you must keep it secret. Sit down, and I ll 
 tell you all about it." 
 
 " Oh, the ould villain !" was Katy s com 
 ment upon the story. "I d like to wring his 
 neck," meaning Mr. Craven s. 
 
 " You must be careful, Katy. He isn t to 
 know we ve heard anything." 
 
BEN BEINGS GOOD NEWS. 277 
 
 " But he ll guess from your lavin off 
 
 mournin ." 
 
 " I ll tell him I have dreamed that my boy 
 escaped." 
 
 That ll do, mum. When will Master 
 Frank be comin home?" 
 
 " Soon, I hope, but now I can wait pa 
 tiently since Heaven has spared him to me." 
 
 When Mr. Craven returned home at the 
 close of the afternoon, he was astonished to 
 hear Katy singing at her work, and to find 
 Mrs. Craven dressed and down stairs, quite 
 self-controlled, though grave. In the morning 
 she was in the depths of despondency, and 
 Katy was gloomy and sad. 
 
 "What s up?" he thought. 
 
 " My dear," he said, " I am glad that you 
 are bearing your affliction better. It is a ter 
 rible loss, but we should be resigned to the 
 will of the Almighty." 
 
 " I don t think Frank is dead," answered 
 Mrs. Craven. 
 
 " Not think he is dead ? I wish there were 
 any chance of your being right, but I cannot 
 encourage you in such a delusion. There is, 
 
278 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 unhappily, no chance of the poor boy sur 
 viving such a fearful accident/ 
 
 " You may call it foolish, if you will, Mr. 
 Craven, but I have a presentiment that he is 
 alive." 
 
 " But, my dear, it is impossible." 
 
 " Katy thinks so, too." 
 
 Mr. Craven shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 " I wish it were true, but there is no hope. 
 You saw my friend s letter ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " He said there was no hope." 
 
 " He thought so. I am firmly convinced 
 that Frank is alive." 
 
 Mr. Craven tried to undermine her confi 
 dence, but, of course, without avail. He was 
 troubled, for if she continued to cherish this 
 belief she would not take possession of 
 Frank s fortune, and thus he would be cut 
 off from it. 
 
ALPINE EXPLORATIONS OF ME. TARBOX. 279 
 
 A 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 ALPIXE EXPLORATIONS OF ME. TARBOX. 
 
 RRIVED at the Hotel du Glacier, Mr. 
 
 Tarbox immediately instituted inquiries 
 about the fate of Frank, and soon learned all 
 that was known by the people at the inn. 
 Being a decidedly straightforward person, he 
 did not fail to insinuate, or rather to make 
 direct charges, against Sharpley, but these 
 found no credence. Sharpley s hypocritical 
 sorrow, and his plausible explanation, had 
 imposed upon them, and they informed Mr. 
 Tarbox that Colonel Sharpley was an excel 
 lent gentleman, and was deeply affected by 
 the accident which had befallen Monsieur 
 Frank. 
 
 " Deeply affected in a horn !" returned 
 the disgusted Jonathan. 
 
 " In a horn!" repeated the landlord, with a 
 perplexed expression. "What is it to be 
 deeply affected in a horn ?" 
 
280 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Over the left, then," amended Mr. Tar- 
 box, impatiently. 
 
 " I do not understand over the left," said 
 the other. 
 
 " Look here, my friend. Where was you 
 raised ?" demanded Mr. Tarbox. 
 
 "Kaised?" 
 
 " Yes ; brought up born." 
 
 " I was born here, among these mountains, 
 
 monsieur." 
 
 " Did you ever go to school ?" 
 
 " To school a I cole f Certainement. I 
 am not one ignorant person," said the land 
 lord, beginning to get angry. 
 
 "And you never learned in a horn/ or 
 over the left? " 
 
 " Non, monsieur." 
 
 " Then," said Mr. Tarbox, " it is high time 
 the schools in Switzerland were reorganized. 
 I should like to speak to your school com 
 mittee." 
 
 "School committee?" 
 
 " Yes. You have a school committee, 
 haven t you ?" 
 
 " Non, monsieur," 
 
ALPINE EXPLORATIONS OF ME. TAKBOX. 281 
 
 " That accounts for it. You need a smart 
 school committee to see that the right things 
 are taught in your schools. But about Frank 
 has his body been found ?" 
 
 " Non, monsieur." 
 
 " Not been found ! Why not ?" 
 
 " We have looked for it, but we cannot 
 find it." 
 
 "Poor boy!" said Mr. Tarbox, wiping 
 away a tear. " So he has been left all the 
 time lying dead in some hole in the moun 
 tains." 
 
 " We have looked for him." 
 
 "Then you didn t look sharp. I ll look 
 for him myself, and when I ve found the poor 
 boy I ll give him decent burial. I d rather 
 bury that skunk Sharpley a darned sight. 
 I d bury him with pleasure, and I wouldn t 
 grudge the expense of the coffin. Now tell 
 me where the poor boy fell." 
 
 "My son Baptiste shall go and show mon 
 sieur the way." 
 
 "All right. It don t make any difference 
 to me if he is a Baptist. I m a Methodist my 
 self, and there ain t much difference, I guess. 
 
282 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 So just tell the Baptist to hurry up and we ll 
 set out. What s his name ?" 
 
 " My son s name ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Did I not say it was Baptiste ?" 
 
 "Oh, that s his name, is it? I thought it 
 was his religion. Funny name, ain t it ? 
 But that makes no difference." 
 
 Baptiste was soon ready, and the two set 
 out together. The guide found it rather 
 difficult to follow Mr. Tarhox in his eccen 
 tric remarks, but they got on very well to 
 gether, and after a time stood on the fatal 
 ledge. 
 
 " Here it was the poor boy fell off/ said 
 Baptiste. 
 
 " I don t believe it," said Mr. Tarbox. " The 
 boy wasn t a fool, and he couldn t have fell 
 unless he was it was that skunk, Sharpley, 
 that pushed him off." 
 
 " Monsieur Sharpley was deeply grieved. 
 How could he push him off?" 
 
 It will be remembered that Sharpley left a 
 sum of money in the hands of the guide to 
 defray the burial expenses in case Frank s 
 
ALPINE EXPLORATIONS OF MR. TARBOX. 283 
 
 body was found. This naturally made an im 
 pression in his favor on Baptiste s mind, par 
 ticularly as the money had not been required, 
 and the probability was that he would be free 
 to convert it to his own use. Accordingly, 
 both he and his father were ready to defend 
 the absent Sharpley against the accusations of 
 Mr. Tarbox. 
 
 "How could he push him off? Jest as 
 easy as winking," replied Jonathan. " Jest 
 as easy as I could push you off," and Mr. 
 Tarbox placed his hand on the guide s 
 shoulder. 
 
 Baptiste jumped back in affright. 
 
 " Why, you didn t think I was goin to do 
 it, you jackass !" said the Yankee. " You re 
 scared before you re hurt. I only wanted 
 to show you how it could be done. Now, 
 jest hold on to my coat-tail while I look 
 
 over." 
 
 " Monsieur had better lie down and look 
 over. It is more safe." 
 
 " I don t know but you re right, Baptiste," 
 and Mr. Tarbox proceeded to follow his ad 
 vice. 
 
284 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL, 
 
 " It s a pesky ways to fall," he said, after 
 a pause. " Poor Frank ! it don t seem as 
 if there was much chance of his bein ? alive." 
 
 " No, monsieur. He is doubtless dead !" 
 
 " Then, where is his body ? It is strange 
 that it is not found." 
 
 " Yes, it is strange." 
 
 " I mean to look for it myself. Is there 
 any way to get down here ?" 
 
 " Yes, but it is a long way." 
 
 " Never mind that. We will try it. I ve 
 got a good pair of legs, and I can hold out 
 if you can." 
 
 " Very well, monsieur." 
 
 They accordingly descended and explored 
 the chasm beneath, climbing part way up, 
 looking everywhere for the remains of our 
 hero, but, as we know, there was a very good 
 reason why they were not found. Frank was, 
 at that very moment, eating a hearty break 
 fast with his friends, the Grosvenors, in Cob- 
 lentz, preparatory to crossing the river and 
 ascending the heights of Ehrenbreitstein. 
 He little dreamed that his Yankee friend was 
 at that moment looking for his body. Had 
 
ALPINE EXPLORATIONS OF ME. TARBOX. 285 
 
 Mr. Tarbox been able to see the said body, 
 he would have been relieved from all appre 
 hensions. 
 
 After continuing his search for the greater 
 part of a day, Mr. Tarbox was obliged to give 
 it up. Though possessed of a considerable 
 share of physical strength, obtained by work 
 ing on his father s farm from the age of ten, 
 he was obliged to own that he was about 
 " tuckered out." He was surprised to find 
 that the guide appeared comparatively fresh. 
 
 "Ain t you tired, Baptiste?" he asked. 
 
 " Non, monsieur." 
 
 " Well, that s strange. You re a little fel- 
 ler, compared with me. I could swaller you 
 almost, and I m as tired as a dog clean tuck- 
 eied out." 
 
 " I was born among these mountains, mon 
 sieur. I have always been accustomed to 
 climbing among them ; and that is the rea 
 
 son." 
 
 " I guess you re right, Baptiste. I don t 
 think I shall take up the business of an Alpine 
 guide jest yet. What sort of plows do you 
 have in Switzerland, Baptiste ?" 
 
286 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " I will show monsieur when we go hack." 
 
 "All right. You see, Baptiste, I ve in 
 vented a plow that goes ahead of all your old- 
 fashioned concerns, and I d like to introduce 
 it into Switzerland." 
 
 " You can speak to my father, monsieur, I 
 have nothing to do with the plowing." 
 
 Mr. Tarbox did speak to the landlord, after 
 first expressing his disgust at the manner in 
 which agricultural operations were carried on 
 in Switzerland ; hut he soon found that the 
 Swiss mind is not one that yearns for new 
 inventions, and that the prospect of selling his 
 patent in Switzerland for a good round sum 
 was very small. 
 
 As he had failed in his search for Frank, 
 and as there seemed no business inducements 
 for remaining, he decided to leave the Hotel 
 du Glacier and return at once to Paris. He 
 did so with a heavy heart, for he really felt 
 attached to Frank, and was grieved by his 
 unhappy fate. 
 
THE PLOW IS A SUCCESS. 287 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV. 
 
 THE PLOW IS A SUCCESS. 
 
 THE Grosvenors traveled in a leisurely 
 manner, stopping at places of interest 
 on the way, so that they did not reach Paris 
 for a fortnight, 
 
 Mr. Tarbox had been back over a week be 
 fore Frank arrived at the Hotel du Louvre. 
 Our hero had by this time got very well ac 
 quainted with his party, and the favorable 
 impression which he at first made was consid 
 erably strengthened. Little Herbert took a 
 great fancy to him, and Frank allowed the 
 little boy to accompany him in many of his 
 walks. Frequently, also, Beatrice was of the 
 party. She, too, was much pleased with our 
 hero, and treated him in a frank, sisterly way, 
 which Frank found agreeable. Mr. Grosvenor 
 noticed the intimacy established between his 
 children and Frank, but he saw that our hero 
 
288 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 was well brought up, and very polite and 
 gentlemanly, and therefore was not displeased 
 by it. In fact he was gratified, for he saw 
 that it added considerably to the pleasure 
 which they derived from the journey. 
 
 On the morning after their arrival in Paris 
 Frank prepared to go out. 
 
 " Where are you going, Frank ?" asked 
 little Herbert. 
 
 Beatrice also looked up, inquiringly. 
 
 " To see a friend of mine, Herbert." 
 
 " What is his name ?" 
 
 "It seems to me that you are inquisitive, 
 Herbert," said his father. 
 
 " Oh, it is no secret," said Frank, laughing. 
 " It is Jonathan Tarbox, of Squashboro , 
 State o Maine." 
 
 " What a funny name !" 
 
 " Yes, it is a queer name, and its owner is 
 a little queer, also, but he is a good fellow for 
 all that. He is a genuine specimen of the 
 Yankee, Mr. Grosvenor." 
 
 " I should like to see him," said Mr. Gros- 
 venor, smiling. " Invite him to call." 
 
 " I will, sir, thank you. Though he is un- 
 
THE PLOW IS A SUCCESS. 289 
 
 polished, I believe you will find that he has 
 something in him." 
 
 Mr. Tarbox was back in his place in the 
 exposition building. He had not ceased to 
 mourn for Frank. Still he felt in better 
 spirits than usual, for he had had an inter 
 view with a wealthy American capitalist, who 
 had looked into the merits of his plow, and 
 half-promised that he would pay him ten 
 thousand dollars for a half ownership of the 
 patent. This would make Mr. Tarbox a man 
 of great wealth in his native place (Squash- 
 boro , State o Maine), and enable him to tri 
 umph over his friends and relations, who had 
 thought him a fool for going to the expense 
 of a trip to Europe, when he might have in 
 vested the same sum in a small farm at home. 
 
 He was busily engaged in thinking over 
 his prospects, when he was startled by a 
 familiar voice. 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Tarbox ?" said Frank, 
 saluting him. 
 
 "What!" gasped Mr. Tarbox, fixing his 
 eyes upon our hero in a strange mixture of 
 incredulity, wonder, bewilderment and joy. 
 
 19 
 
290 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Tarbox, you don t seem glad 
 to see me," said Frank. " You haven t forgot 
 ten me, have you ?" 
 
 " Are you alive ?" asked Mr. Tarbox, cau 
 tiously, eying him askance. 
 
 " Alive ? I rather think I am. Just give 
 me your hand." 
 
 The Yankee mechanically extended his 
 hand, and Frank gave him a grip which con 
 vinced him that he was flesh and blood. 
 
 " But I thought you were dead !" 
 
 "You see I am not." 
 
 " I saw the cliff where you tumbled off, 
 and broke your neck." 
 
 " I got it mended again, said Frank, 
 laughing. " But you say you saw the cliff. 
 Have you been to Switzerland ?" 
 
 " Yes. I mistrusted something was goin* 
 to happen to you." 
 
 " How could you mistrust ? What led to 
 your suspicions?" 
 
 " A letter that your step-father wrote to 
 that skunk, Sharpley, in which he talks about 
 your meeting with an accident." 
 
 " But," inquired Frank, in surprise, " how 
 
THE PLOW IS A SUCCESS. 291 
 
 did you get hold of such a letter ? I knew 
 nothing about it." 
 
 " You left it here one day by accident." 
 
 " Where is it? Let me read it." 
 
 " First, let me ask you a question. Didn t 
 that skunk push you off the cliff?" 
 
 " Yes," said Frank, gravely. 
 
 " And how did you escape ?" 
 
 " Some peasants found me on a snow-cov 
 ered ledge on which I had fallen. They 
 took me home, and nursed me till I was well 
 enough to travel." 
 
 "Are you with that skunk now?" 
 
 " No ; I never would travel with him 
 again, "said Frank, shuddering, 
 
 " Where is he ?" 
 
 " I don t know. But let me have the let 
 ter." 
 
 He read in silence the paragraph which 
 has been quoted in an earlier chapter. When 
 he had finished he looked up. 
 
 " I am afraid," he said, gravely, " there is 
 no doubt that Mr. Craven employed Colonel 
 Sharpley to make away with me." 
 
 "Then he is a skunk, too!" 
 
292 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Mr. Tarbox, I would not mind it so much 
 but for one thing." 
 
 "What is that, Frank?" 
 
 " He is married to my mother. If he lays 
 this plot for me, what will he do against 
 her?" 
 
 " He will try to get hold of her money." 
 
 " I fear so, and if she resists I am afraid he 
 will try to injure her." 
 
 " May be you re right, Frank." 
 
 " I think I ought to go home at once ; 
 don t you think so?" 
 
 " I don t know but you re right, Frank. 
 I m almost ready to go too." 
 
 " Oh, I forgot to ask you what luck you 
 had met with." 
 
 " I expect I ll do first-rate. There s a gen 
 tleman that s talkin of buyiu one-half my 
 plow for ten thousand dollars." 
 
 " I congratulate you, Mr. Tarbox," said 
 Frank, heartily ; " I hope he ll do it." 
 
 " I guess he won t back out. He s been 
 inquirin about it pretty close. He thinks it s 
 a big thing." 
 
 "I ve no doubt he s right, Mr. Tarbox." 
 
THE PLOW IS A SUCCESS. 293 
 
 " It ll take the shine off all the plows that s 
 
 goinV 
 
 " Perhaps business will detain you, then, 
 Mr. Tarbox." 
 
 " No, Mr. Peterson that s his name is 
 goin back to America in a week or two, and 
 if he strikes a bargain I ll go too. Won t 
 dad open his eyes when his son comes home 
 with ten thousand dollars in his pocket ? 
 May be he won t think me quite such a fool 
 as he thought when I started off for Europe, 
 and wouldn t buy a farm, as he wanted me to, 
 with that money I got as a legacy." 
 
 " But you will have half your patent also." 
 
 " Of course I will, and if that don t bring 
 me in a for tun it s because folks can t tell a 
 good plow when they see it. But there s one 
 thing I can t understand, Frank." 
 
 "What s that?" 
 
 " Where did you get all your money to 
 travel after you got pitched over the precipice 
 by that skunk ?" 
 
 " Oh, I didn t tell you that. Well, after I 
 was able to travel I examined my purse, and 
 found I had only twelve dollars." 
 
294 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL, 
 
 " That waVt much/ 
 
 " No, particularly as I liad to pay ten 
 dollars to the good people who picked me 
 up. I shall send them more as soon as 1 
 have it." 
 
 " Jest draw on me, Frank. I ain t rich, 
 but ef you want a hundred dollars or more, 
 jest say so." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Tarbox," said Frank, 
 gratefully. " I wouldn t hesitate to accept 
 your very kind offer, but I do not now 
 need it." 
 
 He then proceeded to explain his meet 
 ing with the Grosvenors just when he stood 
 in most need of assistance. He dwelt upon 
 the kindness they had shown him, and the 
 pleasure lie had experienced in their so 
 ciety. 
 
 " I m glad you ve been so lucky. Gros- 
 venor is a brick, but it ain t surprisin he 
 should take a fancy to you." 
 
 " I suppose that is a compliment, Mr. Tar- 
 box," said Frank, smiling. 
 
 " Perhaps it is. I don t know much 
 about compliments, but I know I felt awful 
 
THE PLOW IS A SUCCESS. 295 
 
 bad when I thought you was dead. I 
 wanted to thrash that skunk within an inch 
 of his life." 
 
 " I guess you could do it," said Frank, 
 surveying the athletic form of his Yankee 
 friend. 
 
 " I ll do it now if I ever come across him. 
 Where do you think he is?" 
 
 " I think he has gone to America to ask 
 pay for disposing of me." 
 
 " I guess so, too. They told me at that 
 Hotel du Glacier (the last word Mr. Tarbox 
 pronounced in two syllables) that he was 
 goin home to break the news to your folks. 
 I guess your step-father won t break his heart 
 badly." 
 
 "I must follow him," said Frank. "I 
 shall feel uneasy till I reach home and un 
 mask their villany." 
 
 " I hope we ll go together." 
 
 "I ll let you know, Mr. Tarbox, when I 
 take passage. Then, if your business is 
 concluded, we will be fellow-passengers once 
 more." 
 
296 FKANK HUNTER S PEEIL. 
 
 CHAPTEE XXXV. 
 
 MR. CRAVEN MEETS WITH UNEXPECTED 
 DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 m. CRAVEN was placed in a difficult 
 position. At the special request of 
 Frank, as conveyed in his letter, she had 
 agreed to keep secret her knowledge of his 
 safety. Of course, she could no longer in 
 dulge in her sorrow, which at first over 
 whelmed her. Her only course was to affirm 
 her belief in his deliverance, though she was 
 not at liberty to name the grounds upon which 
 her belief was based. This must necessarily 
 seem strange, as a " presentiment " was a very 
 slender reason for the change in her manner. 
 Had she been willing to play a part, Mrs. Cra 
 ven might still have counterfeited grief, but 
 this, again, was not in accordance with her 
 nature. She preferred to be misunderstood, 
 
CRAVEN" MEETS UNEXPECTED DIFFICULTIES. 297 
 
 and to excite surprise in those who were 
 ignorant of the facts. 
 
 But this was not her only perplexity. 
 There was the haunting suspicion that the 
 man whom, unhappily for herself, she called 
 husband, had instigated the wicked plot 
 against the life of her only son. Frank be 
 lieved it. It might not be true ; yet, while 
 there was a possibility of its truth, how could 
 she continue to treat him with her usual cour 
 tesy ? She sought to do it, but she could not. 
 Though studiously polite, her manner became 
 very cold almost repellent. When Mr. Cra 
 ven approached her she could hardly avoid 
 shuddering. 
 
 Of course, this change became perceptible 
 to him, and he was puzzled and disturbed. It 
 upset all his calculations. He thought she 
 would accept the fact of Frank s death of 
 which, by the way, he had no doubt himself 
 and would be so overcome by sorrow that he 
 could readily obtain her consent to those busi 
 ness steps which would place the entire con 
 trol of Frank s fortune in his hands. Yet here 
 she was, declining to believe that he was dead, 
 
298 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 and evidently her confidence in him was, for 
 some reason, chilled and impaired. 
 
 Mr. Craven was impatient to broach the 
 subject, and finding his wife s manner still the 
 same, and with no prospect of alteration, he 
 devised a plausible mode of approaching the 
 subject which was so near his heart, 
 
 One evening, after the supper dishes were 
 removed, just as Mrs. Craven was leaving the 
 room, he called her back. 
 
 " My dear," he said, " will you sit down a 
 few minutes ? I have a few words to say to 
 you." 
 
 She complied with his request. 
 
 " Ahem !" he commenced. " I have taken a 
 step to-day of which I wish to apprize you." 
 
 " Indeed." 
 
 " Yes, my dear. Sensible of the uncer 
 tainty of life, I have to-day made my will." 
 
 " Indeed !" she said again, exhibiting no 
 particular interest in Mr. Craven s communi 
 cation. 
 
 " You do not ask me in what way I have 
 left my money !" 
 
 " I do not suppose it concerns me." 
 
CRAVEN" MEETS UNEXPECTED DIFFICULTIES. 299 
 
 " But it does, materially. I have no near 
 relatives at least, none that I care for. I 
 have bequeathed all my property to you." 
 
 As Mr. Craven possessed nothing whatever 
 apart from the money which his wife per 
 mitted him to control, this magnanimous lib 
 erality did not require any great self-denial 
 or evince any special affection on his part. 
 However, his wife did not know that, and 
 upon her ignorance he relied. He expected 
 her to thank him, but her manner continued 
 cold. 
 
 " I am obliged to you for your intention," 
 she said, " but I am not likely to survive you." 
 
 " We cannot tell, my dear. Should you 
 live to be my widow, I should wish you to in 
 herit all I left behind me." 
 
 " Thank you, but I should prefer that you 
 would leave all you possess to the relatives 
 you refer to." 
 
 " I have none that I care for." 
 
 " I suppose we must sometimes leave prop 
 erty to those we do not particularly like." 
 
 Mr. Craven was very much disappointed by 
 the coldness with which his liberality was re- 
 
oOU FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 ceived. He wanted to suggest that his wife 
 should follow his example and leave him her 
 fortune, increased as it was by Frank s, of 
 which she was the legal heir. But this pro 
 posal was not so easy to make. Nevertheless, 
 he determined, at any rate, to try for the con 
 trol of Frank s estate. 
 
 " There s but one thing more I want to 
 mention," he said. " But first let me say, that 
 my will must stand without alteration. Of 
 course, you can make such disposition of my 
 property as you like when it falls to you, but 
 to you it must go. Now, for the other matter. 
 I beg you will excuse me from saying any 
 thing to grieve you, but it must be said. It 
 is necessary for us to take some measures about 
 poor Frank s property." 
 
 " Why is it necessary ?" 
 
 " Since he is dead" 
 
 " But he is not dead," said Mrs. Craven, 
 quickly. 
 
 " Not dead ? Have we not Colonel Sharp- 
 ley s testimony ? He saw the poor boy fall 
 over the cliff." 
 
 Mr. Craven drew out his handkerchief and 
 
CRAVEN" MEETS UNEXPECTED DIFFICULTIES. 301 
 
 pressed it to his eyes, but his wife displayed 
 no emotion. 
 
 " Then I don t believe Colonel Sharpley," 
 said Mrs. Craven. 
 
 " .Don t believe liim !" exclaimed Mr. Cra 
 ven. " What possible motive can he have for 
 stating what is not true ?" 
 
 " It may be that Frank fell, but that would 
 not n*ecessarily kill him." 
 
 Still she shuddered, as fancy conjured up 
 the terrible scene. 
 
 Mr. Craven shook his head. 
 
 "My dear," he said, "I regret to destroy 
 your hopes. If such a fancy could be in 
 dulged without interfering with what ought 
 
 O O O 
 
 to be done, I would say nothing to disturb 
 your dream, wild and improbable as it is. 
 But Frank left property. The law requires 
 that it should be legally administered." 
 " Let it accumulate till my boy returns." 
 "That would be foolish and idle. The 
 poor boy will never need it more ;" and again 
 Mr. Craven buried his emotion in the depth 
 <>f his handkerchief. " His bright and prom 
 ising career is over for this world. He has 
 
302 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 gone where worldly riches will never benefit 
 him more." 
 
 But for her private knowledge of Frank s 
 safety, Mrs. Craven would have been moved 
 by his pathetic reference ; but, as it was, she 
 stood it without manifesting any emotion, thus 
 plunging her husband into deeper and more 
 angry bewilderment. 
 
 " As I said before," returned his wife, " I 
 firmly believe that Frank is still alive." 
 
 " What proof what reason can you offer ?" 
 demanded Mr. Craven, impatiently. 
 
 " None, except my fixed conviction." 
 
 " Based upon nothing at all, and contra 
 dicted by the most convincing testimony of 
 eye-witnesses." 
 
 " That is your view." 
 
 " It is the view of common sense." 
 
 " There is no need of doing anything about 
 the property at present, is there ? I am the 
 legal heir, am I not ?" 
 
 " Ahem ! Yes." 
 
 " Then it is for me to say what shall be 
 done. I am in no hurry to assume possession 
 of my boy s fortune." 
 
CRAVEN MEETS UNEXPECTED DIFFICULTIES. 303 
 
 Mr. Craven bit liis lip. Here was an im 
 practicable woman. Apparently, nothing 
 could be done with her at least as long as 
 she shared this delusion. 
 
 " I shall soon be able to convince you," he 
 said, " that you are laboring under a happy 
 but an untenable delusion. I expect Colonel 
 Sharpley in the next steamer." 
 
 Mrs. Craven looked up now. 
 
 " Is he coming here ?" she asked, 
 
 " Yes ; so he writes. He wishes to tell you 
 all about the accident how it happened, and 
 some details of poor Frank s last experiences 
 in Europe. He felt that it would be a satis 
 faction to you to hear them from his own lips. 
 He has, therefore, made this journey expressly 
 on your account." 
 
 Mrs. Craven looked upon Sharpley as the 
 murderer of her boy. It was his hand, she 
 believed, that thrust him from the cliff and 
 meant to compass his death. Could she re 
 ceive such a man as a guest? 
 
 " Mr. Craven," she said, abruptly, " if Colo 
 nel Sharpley comes here, I have one request 
 to make." 
 
304 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 "What is it, my dear?" 
 
 " That you do not invite him to stay in this 
 house." 
 
 " Why, my dear ? I thought you would 
 like to see the last companion of poor Frank," 
 returned Mr. Craven, surprised. 
 
 " I cannot bear the sight of that man. But 
 for him, Frank would not have incurred such 
 peril." 
 
 " But Sharpley is not to blame for an 
 accident. He could not help it. I regret 
 that you should be so unreasonably preju 
 diced." 
 
 " Call it prejudice if you will. I could not 
 endure the thought of entertaining him as a 
 guest." 
 
 "This is very strange, my dear. What 
 will he think?" 
 
 " I cannot say, but you must not invite him 
 here." 
 
 Mrs. Craven left the room, leaving her hus 
 band angry and perplexed. 
 
 " Surely she can t suspect anything !" he 
 thought, startled at the suggestion. " But no, 
 it is impossible. We have covered our tracks 
 
CRAVEN MEETS UNEXPECTED DIFFICULTIES. 305 
 
 too carefully for that. On my soul, I don t 
 know what to do. This obstinate woman 
 threatens to upset all my plans. I will con 
 sult Sharpley when he comes/ 
 
 20 
 
306 FKANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVI. 
 
 SHARPLEY S RETURX 
 
 A FEW days later, as Mr. Craven sat in 
 his office smoking a cigar, while medi 
 tating upon the best method of overcoming 
 his wife s opposition to his plans, the outer 
 door opened, and Sharpley entered. 
 
 " Well, Craven," he said, coolly, " you ap 
 pear to be taking it easy." 
 
 " When did you arrive ?" asked Mr. 
 Craven. 
 
 " Yesterday. You ought to feel compli 
 mented by my first call. You see I ve lost 
 no time in waiting upon you." 
 
 " I received your letter," said Craven. 
 
 "Both of them?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Then you know that your apprehensions 
 were verified," said Sharpley, significantly. 
 " The boy was as imprudent as you antici- 
 
SHARPLEY S RETURN. 307 
 
 pated. He actually leaned over too far, in 
 looking over an Alpine precipice, and tum 
 bled. Singular coincidence, wasn t it ?" 
 
 " Then he is really dead ?" said Mr. Craven, 
 anxiously. 
 
 " Dead ? I should think so. A boy 
 couldn t fall three or four hundred feet, more 
 or less, without breaking his neck. Unless 
 lie was made of India rubber, he d be apt to 
 smash something." 
 
 " Did you find his body ?" 
 
 " No ; I didn t stop long enough. I came 
 away the next day. But, fearing that I 
 might seem indifferent, and that might arouse, 
 suspicion, I left some money with a guide, the 
 son of the landlord of the Hotel du Glacier, 
 to find him and bury him." 
 
 " I would rather you had yourself seen the 
 body interred. It would have been more 
 satisfactory." 
 
 "Oh, well, I ll swear that he is dead. That 
 will be sufficient for all purposes. But how 
 does your wife take it?" 
 
 " In a very singular way," answered Mr. 
 Craven. 
 
308 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " In a singular way ? I suppose she is 
 overwhelmed with grief, but I shouldn t call 
 that singular under the circumstances." 
 
 " But you are mistaken. She is not over 
 whelmed with grief." 
 
 Sharpley started. 
 
 " You don t mean to say she doesn t mind 
 it?" he asked. 
 
 " No, it isn t that." 
 
 " What is it, then ?" 
 
 " She won t believe the boy s dead." 
 
 " Won t believe he is dead ? Did you show 
 her my letter?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " That ought to have been convincing." 
 
 " Of course it ought. Nothing could be 
 more direct or straightforward. At first it 
 did seem to have the proper effect. She 
 fainted away, and for days kept her room, 
 refusing to see any one, even me." 
 
 " Well, that must have been a sacrifice," 
 said Sharpley, ironically; "not to see her 
 devoted husband." 
 
 " But all at once there was a change. One 
 day I came home at the close of the after- 
 
SHARPLEY S RETURN". 309 
 
 noon, supposing, as usual, that my wife was 
 in her room, but, to my surprise, she was 
 below. She had ceased weeping and seemed 
 even cheerful though cold in her manner. 
 On complimenting her upon her resignation, 
 she astonished me by saying that she w r as 
 convinced that Frank was still alive/ 
 
 " Did she assign any reason for this be 
 lief?" asked Sharpley, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Only that she had a presentiment that he 
 had escaped." 
 
 " Nothing more than this ?" 
 
 " Nothing more. 
 
 " Pooh ! She is only hoping to the last." 
 
 " It seems to be something more than that. 
 If it was only hope, she would have fear also, 
 and would show all the suspicion and anxiety 
 of such a state of mind. But she is calm and 
 cheerful, and appears to suffer no anxiety." 
 
 " That is singular to be sure," said Sharp- 
 ley ; " but I suppose it will not interfere with 
 our designs ?" 
 
 u But it will. When I ventured delicately 
 to insinuate that Frank s property ought, ac 
 cording to law, to be administered upon, she 
 
310 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 absolutely declined, saying that there would 
 be time enough for that when he was proved 
 to be dead." 
 
 " I can remove that difficulty/ said Sharp- 
 ley. " She will hardly need more than my 
 oral testimony." 
 
 Mr. Craven shook his head. 
 
 " I forgot to say that she has taken an 
 unaccountable prejudice against you. She 
 doesn t want me to invite you to the house. 
 She insists that she is not willing to meet you 
 as her guest." 
 
 " What does this mean ?" asked Sharpley, 
 abruptly. " Do you think," he continued, 
 in a lower tone, " that she has any suspi 
 cions?" 
 
 " I don t see how she can," answered Cra 
 ven. 
 
 " Then why should she take such a preju 
 dice against me ?" 
 
 "She says, that but for you, Frank would 
 never have gone abroad/ 
 
 " And so, of course, not have met with this 
 accident ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
SHAEPLEY S EETURN. 311 
 
 " Then, it s all right. It s a woman s unrea 
 sonable whim," said Sharpley, apparently re 
 lieved by this explanation. 
 
 "That may be; but it is equally inconve 
 nient. She won t believe your testimony, and 
 will still insist that Frank is alive." 
 
 A new suspicion entered Sharpley s mind 
 this time, a suspicion of the good faith of 
 his confederate, of whom, truth to tell, he 
 had very little reason to form a good opinion. 
 
 " Look here, Craven," he said, his counte 
 nance changing. "I believe you are at the 
 bottom of this." 
 
 "At the bottom of what?" exclaimed Mr. 
 Craven, in genuine astonishment. 
 
 " I believe you ve put your wife up to 
 this." 
 
 " What should I do that for ? Why should 
 I bite my own nose off in other words frus 
 trate my own plans ?" 
 
 " I am not sure that you would," returned 
 Sharpley, suspiciously. 
 
 " How could it be otherwise ?" 
 
 " You want to cheat me out of the sum I 
 was to receive for this service." 
 
312 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " How ?" 
 
 " By pretending you can t get possession of 
 the boy s property. Then you can plead in 
 ability, and keep it all yourself." 
 
 " On my honor, you do me injustice," said 
 Craven, earnestly. 
 
 " Your honor !" sneered Sharpley. " The 
 least said about that the better." 
 
 " Be it so ; but you must see that my in 
 terests are identified with yours. I will prove 
 to you that all I have said is true." 
 
 " How will you prove it?" 
 
 " By bringing you face to face with Mrs. 
 Craven. By asking you to come home with 
 
 me." 
 
 She said she did not want to receive 
 
 me." 
 
 " You shall learn that from her manner. 
 After you are convinced of it, after you find 
 she won t credit your tale of Frank s death, 
 we will consult as to what shall be done. 
 
 "Very well. It will be strange if, after 
 what has already been accomplished, we can 
 not circumvent an obstinate woman." 
 
 " I think we can, with your help." 
 
SHARPLEY S RETURN. 313 
 
 " Very well. When shall we try the experi 
 ment?" 
 
 " At once/ 
 
 Mr. Craven took his hat and led the way 
 out of his office, followed by Sharp! ey. They 
 walked at a good pace to the handsome dwell 
 ing already referred to, and entered. 
 
 "Katy," said Mr. Craven, "go up stairs 
 and tell your mistress that Colonel Sharpley 
 is here. He has just returned from Europe." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Katy, looking askance at 
 Sharpley, whom, in common with her mis 
 tress, she regarded as a would-be murderer. 
 
 " Ma am," said she, a moment later, in Mrs. 
 Craven s chamber, " he s here." 
 
 " Who s here ?" 
 
 " That murderin villain, ma am." 
 
 "What! Colonel Sharpley?" said Mrs. 
 Craven, dropping her work in agitation. 
 
 " Yes, ma am ; and Mr. Craven wants you 
 to come down and see him." 
 
 " How can I see that man, who tried to take 
 the life of my dear boy ?" said Mrs. Craven, 
 in continued agitation. " What shall I do, 
 Katy ?" 
 
314 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " I ll tell you what I d do, ma am. I d go 
 down and see what I can find out about it. 
 Jest ax him questions, and see what he s got, 
 to say for himself." 
 
 Mrs. Craven hesitated, hut she wanted to 
 learn something of her absent boy, and fol 
 lowed Katy s advice. 
 
 As she entered the room, Sharpley advanced 
 to meet her, with extended hand. She did 
 not seem to see it, but passed him coldly and 
 sank into a rocking chair. 
 
 He bit his lip with vexation, but otherwise 
 did not show his chagrin. 
 
MRS. CRAVEN S FIXED IDEA. 315 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVII. 
 
 MRS. CRAVEN S FIXED IDEA. 
 
 * * "TJTOU will probably wish to ask Colonel 
 JL Sharpley about the circumstances 
 attending poor Frank s loss," said Craven, in 
 a soft voice. 
 
 " I am ready to hear what Colonel Sharp- 
 ley has to say," returned Mrs. Craven, 
 coldly. 
 
 " I see you are displeased with me, mad- 
 ame," said Sharpley. " I can understand 
 your feelings. You associate me with the loss 
 of your son." 
 
 "I do!" said Mrs. Craven, with em 
 phasis. 
 
 " But that is not just, my dear," said Mr. 
 Craven. " Accidents may happen at any 
 time they are beyond human foresight or 
 control. It is my friend Sharpley s misfor 
 tune that our Frank came to his sad end 
 while in his company." 
 
316 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " While in his company ?" repeated Mrs. 
 Craven, looking keenly at Sharpiey. 
 
 " You think I should have prevented it, 
 Mrs. Craven. Gladly would I have done so, 
 but Frank was too quick for me. With a 
 boy s curiosity he leaned over the precipice, 
 lost his balance and fell." 
 
 " When did this happen what day of the 
 month ?" 
 
 " It was the eighteenth of August." 
 
 Mrs. Craven remembered with joy that the 
 letter which she had read, addressed to Ben 
 Cameron, was dated a week later ; it was a 
 convincing proof of Frank s safety. 
 
 " You are sure that it was the eight 
 eenth ?" 
 
 " Yes, perfectly so," answered Sharpiey, 
 not, of course, seeing the drift of her ques 
 tion. 
 
 "Did you find Frank s body?" asked 
 Mrs. Craven, with less emotion than Sharp- 
 ley expected from the nature of the ques 
 tion. 
 
 " No," he answered, and immediately after 
 ward wished he had said yes. 
 
MRS. CRAVEN S FIXED IDEA. 317 
 
 " Then," said Mrs. Craven, " Frank may be 
 alive," 
 
 " Impossible !" exclaimed Mr. Craven and 
 Sharpley in unison. 
 
 "Why impossible?" 
 
 " The precipice was too high ; it was ab 
 solutely impossible that any one could have 
 fallen from such a height and not lose his 
 life." 
 
 " But you did not find the body ?" 
 
 " Because I started for home the very 
 next day to let you know what had hap 
 pened. I left directions with a guide to 
 search for and bury the body when found. 
 He has doubtless done it. A letter from him 
 may be on the way to me now announcing his 
 
 success." 
 
 " When you receive the letter you can show 
 it to me," said Mrs. Craven, quietly. 
 
 " Certainly," said Sharpley. 
 
 Then he regretted that he had not, while 
 in Europe, forged such a letter, or, failing 
 this, that he had not positively declared that 
 he had personally witnessed Frank s burial. 
 This would have removed all difficulty. 
 
318 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " I have not expressed my sympathy in 
 your loss," said Sharpley ; " but that is hardly 
 necessary." 
 
 " It is not at all necessary," said Mrs. Cra 
 ven, " for I believe Frank to be alive." 
 
 " How can you believe it," asked Sharpley, 
 with difficulty repressing his irritation, " in 
 the face of my testimony ?" 
 
 " You are not sure of Frank s death." 
 
 " I am as sure as I can be." 
 
 " I am not," said Mrs. Craven, quietly. 
 
 " But, permit me to ask, how could he pos 
 sibly escape from the consequences of such a 
 fall ?" 
 
 " That I cannot explain ; but there have 
 been escapes quite as wonderful. I have a 
 presentiment that Frank is alive." 
 
 " I did not think you were so superstitious, 
 niy dear," said Mr. Craven. 
 
 " Call it superstition if you please. With 
 me it is conviction." 
 
 Involuntarily the eyes of the two 
 Craven and Sharpley met. There were 
 irritation and perplexity in the expression 
 of each. What could be done with such a 
 
MRS. CRAVEN S FIXED IDEA. 319 
 
 perverse woman, so wholly inaccessible to 
 reason ? 
 
 " Confound it !" thought Sharpley. " If I 
 had foreseen all this trouble, I would have 
 stayed and seen the brat under ground. Of 
 all the unreasonable women I ever met, Mrs. 
 Craven takes the palm." 
 
 " I have not yet told the circumstances," he 
 said, aloud. " Let me do so. You will then, 
 probably, understand that your hopes have 
 nothing to rest upon." 
 
 He gave a detailed account, exaggerating 
 the dangerous character of the cliff pur 
 posely. 
 
 " What do you think now, my dear ?" 
 asked Mr. Craven. 
 
 " I believe that Frank escaped. If he has, 
 he will come home, sooner or later. I shall 
 wait patiently. I must now beg to be ex 
 cused." 
 
 She rose from her chair, and left the room. 
 
 "What do you think of that, Sharpley ?" 
 demanded Craven, when she was out of ear 
 shot. " Did I not tell you the truth ?" 
 
 "Yes, your wife is the most perverse, 
 
820 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 unreasonable woman it was ever my lot to 
 encounter." 
 
 " You see the difficulty of our position, 
 don t you ?" 
 
 " As to the property ?" 
 
 " Yes. Of course, that s all I care for. 
 Believing, as she does, that Frank is alive, she 
 won t have his property touched." 
 
 " It is a pity you are not the guardian, in 
 stead of your wife." 
 
 " It is a thousand pities. But what can 
 we do ? I want your advice." 
 
 Sharpley sat in silent thought for five 
 minutes. 
 
 "Will it answer if I show your wife a 
 certificate from the guide that he has found and 
 buried Frank?" 
 
 " Where will you get such a certificate ?" 
 
 " Write it myself if necessary." 
 
 "That s a good plan," said Craven, nod 
 ding. 
 
 "Do you think she will resist the weight 
 of such a document as that ?" 
 
 " I don t see how she can." 
 
 " Then it shall be tried." 
 
MRS. CRAVEN S FIXED IDEA. 321 
 
 Three days later, as soon as it was deemed 
 prudent, Sharpie y called again at the house. 
 He had boarded meanwhile at the hotel in 
 the village, comprehending very clearly that 
 Mr. Craven was not at liberty to receive him 
 as a guest. 
 
 Mrs. Craven descended, at her husband s 
 request, to meet the man whom she detested. 
 She had received a second call from Ben, 
 who, with all secrecy, showed her a line from 
 Frank, to the effect that he was well, had 
 found good friends, and should very shortly 
 embark for America. It was an effort for 
 the mother to conceal her joy, but she did so 
 for the sake of expediency. 
 
 " When I was last here, Mrs. Craven," said 
 Sharpley, "you expressed doubt as to your 
 son s death." 
 
 "I did." 
 
 " I wish you had had good reason for your 
 doubt, but I knew only too well that there 
 was no chance for his safety." 
 
 " Well ?" 
 
 " I am now prepared to prove to you that 
 
 he is dead." 
 
 21 
 
322 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " How will you prove it ?" 
 
 " Read that, madame," lie said, extending a 
 paper. 
 
 She took the paper extended to her, and 
 read as follows : 
 
 " HONORED SIR : As you requested, I searched 
 for the body of the poor boy who fell over the cliff. 
 I found it concealed among some bushes at the bot 
 tom of the cliff. It was very much bruised and dis 
 figured, but the face was less harmed than the body, 
 so that we knew it at once. As you directed, I had 
 it buried in our little cemetery. I will point out the 
 grave to you when you come this way. 
 
 " I hope what I have done will meet your appro 
 val, and I remain, honored sir, your servant, 
 
 "BAPTISTE LAMOUBEUX, 
 
 " Alpine Guide." 
 
 " That removes every doubt," said Mr. 
 Craven, applying his handkerchief to his 
 eyes. " Poor Frank !" 
 
 " When did you receive this letter, Colonel 
 Sharpley ?" asked Mrs. Craven. 
 
 " Yesterday." 
 
 " It was written by a Swiss guide ?" 
 
 " Yes, madame." 
 
MRS. CRAVEN S FIXED IDEA. 323 
 
 " He shows an astonishing knowledge of 
 the English language," she said, with quiet 
 
 meaning. 
 
 " He probably got some one to write it for 
 him," said Sharpley, hastily. 
 
 " So I thought," she said, significantly. 
 
 " What difference can that make, my 
 dear?" demanded Mr. Craven. " It seems to 
 me of no importance whether he wrote it 
 himself, or some traveler for him. You can t 
 doubt Frank s death now ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 " Good heavens! What do you mean ?" 
 
 " I mean that I am confident that my boy 
 is alive. No one can convince me to the 
 contrary," and she rose and left the room. 
 
 "The woman is mad!" muttered Sharpley. 
 
 So she is," said Craven, rubbing his hands, 
 
 as an evil thought entered his mind. " She is 
 
 the subject of a mad delusion. Now I sec 
 
 my way clear." 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 " I mean this. I will obtain a certificate 
 of her madness from two physicians, and have 
 her confined in an asylum. Of course, a mad 
 
324 FEANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 woman cannot control property. Everything 
 will come into my Lands, and all will be 
 right." 
 
 " You ve hit it at last, Craven !" said Sharp- 
 ley, with exultation. " That plan will work. 
 We ll feather our nests, and then she may 
 come out of the asylum, or stay there, it will 
 be all the same to us." 
 
RETRIBUTION. 325 
 
 CHAPTER XXXVIII. 
 
 RETRIBUTION. 
 
 rjlHE two rogues lost no time in carry - 
 JL ing out their villanous design. They 
 thirsted for the gold, and were impatient to 
 get rid of the only obstacle to its acquisition. 
 Sharpley found two disreputable hangers-on 
 upon the medical profession in the city of 
 New York who, for twenty-five dollars a 
 piece, agreed to pronounce Mrs. Craven in 
 sane. They came to the village, and were 
 introduced to Mrs. Craven as business friends. 
 The subject of Frank s loss was cunningly 
 introduced, and she once more affirmed her 
 belief in his safety. This was enough. An 
 hour later, in Mr. Craven s office, the two 
 physicians signed a paper certifying that his 
 wife was insane. They received their money 
 and went back to the city. 
 
326 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 The next day was fixed upon by the con 
 spirators for taking Mrs. Craven to an insane 
 asylum. 
 
 Late the day previous a Cunard steamer 
 arrived at its dock. Among the passengers 
 were two of our acquaintances. One was 
 Frank Hunter, our hero, sun-browned and 
 healthy, heavier and taller, and more self-re 
 liant than when, three months before, he 
 sailed from the port of New York bound for 
 Liverpool. The other no one can mistake. 
 The blue coat and brass buttons, the tall 
 and somewhat awkward form, the thin but 
 shrewd and good-humored face, are those of 
 Jonathan Tarbox, of Squashboro , State o 
 Maine. 
 
 " Well, Frank, I m tarnal glad to be here," 
 said Mr. Tarbox. " It seems kind of nat ral. 
 Wonder what they ll say in Squashboro when 
 they see me come home a man of fortun ." 
 
 " Your plow is a great success, Mr. Tarbox. 
 You ought to be proud of it." 
 
 " I be, Frank. My pardner says he 
 wouldn t take twenty thousand for his half 
 of the invention, but I m satisfied with the 
 
RETRIBUTION. 327 
 
 ten thousand he gave me. I didn t never ex 
 pect to be worth ten thousand dollars." 
 
 " You ll be worth a hundred thousand be 
 fore you re through." 
 
 " Sho ! you don t mean it. Any how, I 
 guess Sally Sprague ll be glad she s going to 
 be Mrs. Tarbox. I say, Frank we ll live in 
 style. Sally shall sit in the parlor, and play 
 on the pianner. She wouldn t have done that 
 if she d took up with Tom North. He s a 
 shiftless, good-for-nothin feller. But, I say, 
 Frank, what ll your folks say to see you ?" 
 
 " Mother ll be overjoyed, but Mr. Craven 
 won t laugh much. I hope," he added, 
 gravely, " he hain t been playing any of his 
 tricks on mother." 
 
 " Do you think that skunk, Sharpley, has 
 got back ?" 
 
 " I think he has, and it makes me anxious. 
 Mr. Tarbox, will you do me a favor ?" 
 
 " Sartin, Frank." 
 
 " Then, come home with me. I may need 
 a friend." 
 
 " I ll do it, Frank," said Jonathan, grasp 
 ing our hero s hand. " Ef that skunk s round 
 
328 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 the neighborhood, I ll give him a piece of my 
 mind." 
 
 "Thank you," said Frank. "I am not 
 afraid of him, but I am only a boy, and they 
 might be too much for me. With you I have 
 no cause to fear." 
 
 They reached the village depot, and set out 
 to walk. Frank met two or three friends, who 
 looked upon him as one raised from the dead. 
 He merely spoke and hurried on. 
 
 When a few rods from the house, their at 
 tention was called to a woman, who was run 
 ning up the street, without any covering upon 
 her head, sobbing like one in distress. 
 
 u Why, it s our Katy!" exclaimed Frank, 
 in great jigitation. " Good heavens ! what can 
 have happened ?" 
 
 " Katy !" he cried out. 
 
 " Oh, Master Frank, is it you ?" exclaimed 
 Katy, laughing hysterically. " You re come 
 in time. Run home as fast as ever you 
 
 can." 
 
 " Why, what s the matter ?" demanded 
 Frank, in great alarm. 
 
 " Them rascals, Mr. Craven and Sharpley, 
 
EET1UBUTION. 329 
 
 pretend that your mother is crazy, just be 
 cause she won t hear to your bein dead, and 
 they re takin her to the crazy sylum. I 
 couldn t stand it, and I run out to see if I 
 couldn t get help." 
 
 " The blamed skunk !" exclaimed Mr. Tar- 
 box, swinging his arms threateningly. " Let 
 me get a hold of him and he won t never 
 know what hurt him." 
 
 Meanwhile, Craven and Sharpley had 
 forced Mrs. Craven into a close carriage, 
 and they were just driving out of the yard 
 when our hero and his friend rushed to the 
 rescue. 
 
 Mr. Tarbox sprang to the horses heads and 
 brought them to a stop, while Frank hurried 
 to the door of the coach, which he pulled 
 open. Inside were Mrs. Craven, her husband 
 and Sharpley. 
 
 They looked angrily to the door, but their 
 dismay may be conceived when they met the 
 angry face of one whom both believed to be 
 dead. 
 
 " Oh, Frank !" screamed Mrs. Craven. 
 " You are come home at last." 
 
830 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 " Yes, mother. Let ine help you out of the 
 carriage." 
 
 " You shall not go !" said Mr. Craven, des 
 perately. " Frank, your mother s insane. 
 We are taking her to the asylum. It is for 
 her good." 
 
 " Save me, Frank !" implored Mrs. Craven. 
 
 " I will save you, mother," said Frank, 
 firmly. 
 
 " Drive on !" shouted Sharpley, savagely. 
 
 " Look a here !" exclaimed a new voice, 
 that of Jonathan Tarbox, who was now peep 
 ing into the carriage. " That is the skunk 
 that tried to murder you/ 
 
 " What do you mean, fellow ?" demanded 
 Sharpley. 
 
 " If you don t understand, come out and 
 I ll lick it into you, you skunk ! Tell your 
 mother to come out, and let that skunk stop 
 her if he dares !" and Mr. Tarbox coolly 
 drew out a revolver and pointed it at Sharp- 
 ley. 
 
 "Til get out, too," said Mr. Craven, 
 faintly. 
 
 " No, you won t. I ve got a letter of yourn, 
 
RETRIBUTION. 331 
 
 written to that skunk, advisin him to pitch 
 Frank over a precipice. 
 
 " It s a lie !" ejaculated Craven, pallid with 
 fear. 
 
 " It comes to the same thing," said Mr. 
 Tarbox, coolly. " When he s tried for mur 
 der, you ll come in second fiddle." 
 
 Sharpley saw his danger. Mr. Craven was 
 already out of the carriage. He made a dash 
 for the door, but found himself in Jonathan s 
 powerful grasp. In a moment he was sprawl 
 ing on his back in the yard. 
 
 " Jest lie there till I tell you to get up," he 
 said. 
 
 By this time two neighbors athletic farm 
 ers entered the yard. Frank briefly ex 
 plained the matter to them, and Mr. Tarbox 
 asked their assistance to secure Sharpley and 
 Craven. 
 
 " Let me go, Frank. I m your step 
 father," implored Craven. " If that man has 
 attempted your life, I know nothing of it. 
 Blame him ; not me." 
 
 " Oh, that is your game," said Sharpley, 
 " you cowardly hound ! You want to sell me 
 
332 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 and go scot-free yourself. Then, gentlemen, 
 it becomes my duty to say that this man has 
 no business here. At the time he married 
 this boy s mother he had a wife living in 
 London." 
 
 " It s a lie !" faltered Craven. 
 
 "It s the truth. I saw her two months 
 since, and so did the boy. You remember Mrs. 
 Craven, whom you relieved ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Frank, in astonishment. 
 
 " She is that man s wife." 
 
 " Thank Heaven !" exclaimed Frank. 
 " Then my mother is free." 
 
 " Moreover, he hired rne to carry you 
 abroad, with the understanding that you 
 should not return, in order that he might 
 enjoy your fortune." 
 
 " You miserable snake in the grass !" ex 
 claimed Mr. Tarbox, energetically. 
 
 Mr. Craven, who was a coward at heart, 
 was thoroughly overwhelmed at the revela 
 tions of his baseness, and made no resistance 
 when taken into custody. Sharpley and he 
 were closely confined until indictments could 
 be found against them, and, to anticipate 
 
RETRIBUTION. 333 
 
 matters a little, were tried, convicted and sen 
 tenced to ten years in the State prison. It 
 was found that Mr. Craven had squandered 
 several thousand dollars belonging to his wife, 
 but Frank s fortune was intact, and they in 
 dulged in no useless regrets for the money 
 that was gone. 
 
 Frank went back to school, where he re 
 mained until the next summer, when he 
 induced his mother to visit Europe under 
 his guidance. They visited his friends, the 
 Grosvenors, by whom they were cordially 
 received. They went to Switzerland, where 
 Mrs. Hunter (Craven no longer), beheld, 
 with a shudder, the scene of her son s fall 
 and escape. 
 
 Some years have now elapsed. Frank is a 
 young man, and junior partner in a prosper 
 ous New York firm. He is not married, but 
 rumor has it that next fall he is to visit Lon 
 don for the purpose of uniting his fortunes to 
 those of Beatrice Grosvenor, whose early fancy 
 for our hero has ripened into a mature affec 
 tion, It is probable that Mr. Grosvenor will be 
 induced, after his daughter s marriage, to 
 
334 FRANK HUNTER S PERIL. 
 
 establish himself in New York, in order to 
 be near her. 
 
 Frank s mother still lives, happy in the 
 goodness and the prosperity of her son. She 
 has improved in health, and is likely to live 
 many years, an honored member of Frank s 
 household. 
 
 Our Yankee friend, Jonathan Tarbox, is 
 one of the magnates of Squashboro , State o 
 Maine. He and his partner have built a 
 large manufactory, from which plows are 
 turned out by hundreds and thousands annu 
 ally. He is now Squire Tarbox, and Sally 
 Sprague has changed her last name for one 
 beginning with T. I should not be surprised 
 to see him a member of Congress, or Governor 
 of Maine some time. 
 
 Frank has settled a pension upon the real 
 Mrs. Craven, who will probably never see 
 her husband again, as he is reported in poor 
 health, and not likely to leave the prison 
 alive. Sharpley succeeded in effecting his es 
 cape, and it is not known where he has taken 
 refuge. Ben Cameron is a trusted clerk in 
 Frank s employ, and our hero will take care 
 
RETRIBUTION. 335 
 
 that his old school friend prospers. Though 
 his path lies in sunshine, Frank is not likely 
 to forget the peril from which he so narrowly 
 escaped. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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