"Of course this was convincing, and Brandon was summoned. When confronted with the charge he turned pale, and tried to brazen it out, saying that Sullivan was mistaken. But the livery man persisted in his assertion, saying that he noticed a cross in red ink on the bill when he took it. Upon that Brandon was discharged, and I understand his father has agreed to pay Mr. Tubbs fifty dollars to save him from arrest and prosecution. His successor, Mr. Toner, is a great improvement on him, and is much more satisfactory to me. "I see your dear stepbrother Abel now and then. He asked me if I had heard from you, knowing our intimacy; but I answered 'No.' He was wondering whether you were still in New York. I could have told him, but I didn't. He isn't very popular in the village. He tries to boss the other boys, but doesn't succeed very well. The boys are getting up a baseball club. He wanted to be captain, but only received one vote—his own. The captain chosen is my honorable self. What do you think of Captain Childs? Sounds great, doesn't it? Write as soon as you can, and let me know what has happened to you. "Your true friend, "RICHARD CHILDS." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XXI A MINING SETTLEMENT IN MONTANA CAMPVILLE was a small mining settlement in Montana. All the buildings were of a temporary character—generally of one story. There was a long street, after the fashion of most western-pioneer settlements, but the houses on it were not many. The largest was a general store for the sale of such articles as miners need. It was kept by one Joe Loche. He came from Maine to Montana, mined for a while with indifferent success, and then opened a store. This was a business he knew something about, and he succeeded almost immediately. His store was a general rendezvous of miners in the intervals of work. One morning, when four or five persons were in Loche's store, sitting around on kegs, a young man of about thirty entered. He had a long, thin face and roving eyes, and looked like one whom a prudent man would not care to meet on a dark night. He entered the store and looked about him curiously. He was a stranger in the settlement, and his glances were returned with interest. "Mornin' stranger!" said Loche, who always had an eye for a possible customer. "What can I do for you? What did you say your name was?" "I didn't say." This curt answer produced an unfavorable impression. "I reckon you've got a name, ain't yer?" said Joe, coldly. "Yes. My name is Ralph Nixon." The statement was received with surprise. "Any relation to old Tom Nixon, who lives on the hill?" This question, asked by Joe Loche, voiced the question which all wished to ask. "He is my uncle. Can you tell me about him?" "The old man is pretty sick," said Joe.