Six months passed. Oreville had doubled its population, the mines had yielded a large sum in gold-dust, and the store presided over by Ernest was considerably enlarged. His services had been so satisfactory that Horace Ames, whose time was taken up elsewhere, had raised his share of the profits to one-half. At the end of six months, besides defraying his expenses, Ernest found himself possessed of a thousand dollars. "Luke, I feel rich," said he, when his faithful friend came round for a chat. "You've done better than I have," rejoined Luke. "The most I have been able to scrape together is four hundred dollars." "I will give you a part of my money, so that we may be even." "No, you won't, Ernest. What do you take me for?" "Mr. Ames has been very liberal, and that is why I have got so much. I don't feel that I ought to have so much more than you." "Don't bother about me, lad; I feel rich with four hundred dollars. I never was worth so much before, though I'm almost three times your age. And I wouldn't have that but for you." "How do you make that out, Luke?" "Because I never had any ambition till I met you. I never thought of saving money; as long as I got enough to eat I cared for nothing else. I should have died without enough to bury me if you had not set me the example of putting something by for a rainy day." "I am glad if I have done you any good, Luke, for you have been a kind friend to me." A week later Luke came into the store, holding a letter in his hand. "Here is a letter for you, Ernest," he said. "I was passing the post-office just now when I was hailed by the postmaster, who asked me if I would take the letter to you. I didn't know that you had any correspondents." "Nor I, Luke. I think it is the first letter I ever received. Whom can it be from?" "From some one who knows you are here. It is post-marked St. Louis." "Well, I can easily discover who wrote it," said Ernest, as he cut open the envelope with his penknife. He turned at once to the signature, and exclaimed, in great surprise, "Why, it's from Tom Burns." "The man who tried to rob the store?" "Yes." "He has probably written to ask you for some money." "No, Luke, you are mistaken. I will read it to you." The letter started thus: Ernest Ray: You will probably be surprised to hear from me. Let me begin by saying that I have kept the promise I made to you and Mr. Robbins when you let me off six months ago. I have turned over a new leaf, and have been strictly honest ever since, as I promised you I would be.