“He’s gone at last,” said Tom, as he drew a long breath of relief, sprang to his feet, and ran across the ravine toward the rock. “If he had stayed here much longer I should have thought that he was making the clothes or weaving the blankets for me. Oh, I see what it was that kept him,” he added, snatching up the note that Oscar had thrust under the string with which the bundle was tied. “Perhaps I shall now find out what it was he wanted to tell me, and perhaps, too, he has been thoughtful enough to put a ten-dollar note into this. No, he hasn’t! I might have known better than to expect it.” Tom opened the letter, but there was nothing but writing in it. He quickly made himself master of its contents; and, after cramming it into his pocket, untied the bundle, threw out the blankets, which were on the top, and began a hurried examination of all the pockets in his new suit; but he did not find what he was looking for—every one of them was empty. “He must have hurt himself,” said Tom in great disgust, as he picked up the blankets, one after the other, and shook them violently in the air, at the same time keeping a close watch of the ground under them to see if anything fell out. “A pair of blankets, an overcoat, and a suit of clothes, but not a cent of money, although he knows that I stand in great need of it. You haven’t made anything by this day’s work, Mr. Oscar. Yes, you have,” he added a moment later. “You have made an implacable enemy of me, and of Lish also; for I know he will be hopping mad when I read that note to him. I wish I knew what that ‘affair’ was, for then I could read something to Lish to make him madder. No matter. I can make up something.” Although Tom’s rage was greatly increased by the sight of his brother’s gift—the articles comprising it were not as fine and costly as he had expected them to be—he did not hesitate to take it. On the contrary, he made all haste to pull off his threadbare garments and get inside the new and warmer ones. He did not abandon his old clothes, but wrapped them up in his blankets, threw them over his shoulder, and started toward the bottom of the ravine. Just as he reached it his steps were arrested by an exclamation of astonishment that fell upon his ear, and, looking up, he saw Lish the Wolfer peeping out from behind a rock a little distance away. “Hello! What brought you back here?” exclaimed Tom. “I thought I saw you ride toward the camp a quarter of an hour ago.” “Mebbe ye did,” replied the wolfer, still keeping his position behind the rock, and showing nothing but his head around the side of it. “Thar’s been a hoss through this gulch since I went away. But, see here, pard. Ye don’t look like yerself.”