“Of course not! _Of_ course not!” yelled Tom, who was so nearly beside himself with fury that he could not stand still even for a moment. “You were quite willing to help a boy who has slandered you, and to work yourself to death in order to win the approbation of strangers, but you wouldn’t give your needy brother fifteen cents to save him from starving.” “I’ll tell you what I will do,” said Oscar, paying no heed to Tom’s remarks. “I will give you a suit of warm clothing and an overcoat, if you will accept them.” It was right on the point of Tom’s tongue to tell Oscar to bundle up that suit of warm clothing and the overcoat, and take them to Guinea, or some other place under the equator—not because he did not need the clothing, but because he wanted money more, and it made him angry to know that he could not get it. If Oscar had been able to comply with his demands, every cent would have been squandered, and his brother would have started out in his threadbare suit to face the winter’s storms. Tom did not utter the words that arose to his lips. He paced back and forth for some minutes, with his eyes fastened on the ground, when suddenly a daring project suggested itself to him. Without stopping to dwell on it, he strode up and faced his brother. There was a wild look in his eyes, and his fingers worked convulsively. “How much money have you got in your pocket?” he asked, in as steady a tone as he could command. “Not a red cent,” was the reply. “I left it all at the fort. I thought it would be safer there.” “And I wasn’t mistaken, either,” said Oscar, to himself, as he looked up at his brother. “No honest face ever wore an expression like that. I think I would be safer at the fort myself.” Tom could not meet his brother’s gaze. He turned away his head and resumed his seat on the log. Oscar had never before come so near being robbed as he had that day. Tom was really in terrible straits, and so very much in need of money that he would not have hesitated to knock his brother senseless, if he had been sure that by so doing he could secure possession of his well-filled pocket-book. If the latter had not been thoughtful enough to place all his money in his trunk before setting out on his ride, there would have been a desperate battle on the banks of that little stream; and it is possible that before it was ended Tom would have discovered that he had undertaken more than he could accomplish. He was much larger and heavier than his brother, and plumed himself on being a boxer, but he was weakened and dispirited, by long-continued dissipation, while Oscar, having lived a strictly temperate life, was always in condition to do his best. “Don’t you think it about time to turn over a new leaf?” asked Oscar, as he arose to his feet and laid his hand on his brother’s shoulder. “One is getting pretty near the end of his rope when he can bring himself to think seriously of committing such a crime as you had in contemplation a few minutes ago.”