"I don't think he is dangerous, Mr. Talbot," Robert started to say, but he looked in vain for his step-father. "Here I am, Robert," he heard in quavering accents. James Talbot had managed, with an agility hardly to be expected of a man of forty-five, to climb into a tree by the roadside. "I--I thought I should be safer here," he said, Robert wanted to laugh, but he was polite, and refrained. "I--I hope he won't bite you." "I'll risk it, sir." "What a terrible situation! I don't dare to come down." "I think you may, sir; I will protect you." "How can you? You wouldn't be a match for a dog like that." By this time Tiger had got over his fierce demonstrations, and seemed quite friendly. "You see he has got over his fierceness. You had better come down." "Do you really think it would be safe?" "I am sure of it." James Talbot got down from the tree cautiously, eyeing the dog askance. "Now let us get away from here at once," he said nervously. "Very well, sir." They took the road for home, the dog making no hostile demonstrations. "I--I was always afraid of dogs," said Talbot, half ashamed. "If it had been a man I wouldn't have cared." And then he began to tell Robert how he had once frightened a burglar from the house where he was lodging; but Robert didn't believe him. He felt contempt for his step-father as a coward. CHAPTER III. THE LITTLE PLOT AGAINST ROBERT. Robert resumed his place in the home circle. Between him and his step-father there was no cordiality, but formal politeness, though at times Mrs. Talbot tried to cultivate more friendly relations. He was somewhat ashamed of the cowardice he displayed during their walk through the village. It was partly because Robert had been a witness of his humiliation that he grew to dislike him the more and determined, when occasion offered, to get even with the boy. He was somewhat afraid of the spirited boy, but gradually plucked up courage for an encounter. When Robert came home from school three days later, he found his step-father in the hall, standing on a chair, engaged in taking down the portrait of Mr. Frost. "What are you doing, Mr. Talbot," he demanded indignantly. Talbot turned his head, and answered curtly, "I apprehend that is my business." "Are you going to take down my father's portrait?" "That's exactly what I am going to do." "Why?" asked Robert sternly. "It is not fitting, now that your mother is my wife, that the picture of her first husband should hang here." "Are you going to put yours in its place?" "As soon as I have one painted." Robert paused for a moment. After all, why should he interfere? His mother had transferred her love and allegiance to another husband, and his father's face would be a silent reproach to her. "Did my mother authorize this removal?" he asked. "Certainly." "Then I have only one request to make, that the portrait be hung up in my chamber. I still revere the memory of my father."