“He must be a great scoundrel,” said Robert. “Now, Julian, I will tell you my plan. I don’t believe there is anything the matter with you except the want of rest and good food. You shall have both. You also want some new clothes.” “Yes,” said Julian, looking at the ragged suit which now hung over a chair. “I should like some new clothes.” A doctor was called, who confirmed Robert’s opinion. “The youngster will be all right in a week or ten days,” he said. “All he wants is rest and good living.” “How soon will he be able to travel?” “In a week, at the outside.” During this week Robert’s attention was drawn to the following paragraph in a copy of the Dexter Times, a small weekly paper, which he found in the reading room of the hotel: “A DESPERATE YOUNG RUFFIAN.--We understand that a young boy in the service of Mr. Nathan Badger, one of our most respected citizens, has disappeared under very extraordinary circumstances. The evening previous to his departure he made an unprovoked attack upon Mr. and Mrs. Badger, actually throwing Mr. Badger downstairs and firing a pistol at Mrs. Badger. He was a small, slight boy, but the strength he exhibited was remarkable in thus coping successfully with a strong man. Mr. Badger thinks the boy must have been suddenly attacked by insanity of a violent character.” “What does this mean, Julian?” asked Robert, reading the paragraph to his young protege. “I don’t know,” answered Julian, astonished. “I spent the last night before I came away with my friend Dick Schmidt.” In a few days Julian looked quite another boy. His color began to return and his thin form to fill out, while his face wore a peaceful and happy expression. In a new and handsome suit of clothes he looked like a young gentleman and not at all like Bill Benton, the bound boy. He was devotedly attached to Robert, the more so because he had never before--as far as his memory went--received so much kindness from any one as from him. “Now,” thought Robert, “I am ready to go back to Cook’s Harbor and restore Julian to his father.” CHAPTER XXXII ONCE MORE IN COOK’S HARBOR Various had been the conjectures in Cook’s Harbor as to what had become of Robert Coverdale. Upon this point the hermit was the only person who could have given authentic information, but no one thought of applying to him. Naturally questions were put to Mrs. Trafton, but she herself had a very vague idea of Robert’s destination, and, moreover, she had been warned not to be communicative. Mr. Jones, the landlord, supposed he had gone to try to raise the amount of his mortgage among distant relatives, but on this point he felt no anxiety. “He won’t succeed,” said he to his wife; “you may depend on that. I don’t believe he’s got any relations that have money, and, even if he has, they’re goin’ to think twice before they give a boy two hundred dollars on the security of property they don’t know anything about.”