"Why, it's Fred!" said Bascom stopping short and trying to stand erect. "Oh, come along!" said his companion impatiently. "No, I want to see the train boy. Good night, old fellow!" The other angrily protested against being shaken off, but Joshua dropped his arm, and took Fred's instead. "How came you with that man?" asked Fred. "He's a jolly, sociable chap. Wanted to take me to a little card party, but I guess it's too late." "Did he meet you in the saloon?" "No; he took me in there, and treated me to three glasses of milk punch. I guess it's got into my head. Do you think I am--intoxicated, Fred?" "It looks very much like it, Mr. Bascom." "I hope they won't hear of it at home. Dad would get the minister to come and give me a talkin' to." "I hope this stranger didn't get any of your money?" "No; he wouldn't let me pay for a thing." "He meant to get the money back. He was carrying you to some gambling house, where he would have won all your money." "You don't say!" exclaimed Joshua, panic-stricken. "I thought he was a nice fellow." "Be careful how you trust strangers, and don't go to any more drinking saloons!" "I won't," said Mr. Bascom, fervently. "I will take you to your room, and you had better take a good long sleep. If you want to go round, I'll call to-morrow evening, and go to some place of amusement with you." "I think Mr. Bascom had better go back to his farm soon," thought Fred, as he returned from piloting Joshua home. "If he doesn't he is likely to get into trouble." CHAPTER VII. FERDINAND MORRIS. When Ferdinand Morris left the train after robbing Joshua Bascom, as described in the first chapter, he was in excellent spirits. He had effected his purpose, and got off scot free. He walked briskly away from the station at which he got out, and didn't stop to examine the wallet till he had got half a mile away. When he discovered that it contained only ten dollars, he was filled with disgust. "What could the fellow mean by coming to the city with only ten dollars in his pocketbook?" he muttered. "It's a regular imposition. It wasn't worth taking. Here I am, stranded in the country, and my ticket of no value, for only ten dollars! I should like to see my rural friend's wo-begone look when he discovers the loss of his wallet, though." This thought helped to reconcile Morris to the situation. The picture which he had conjured up tickled his fancy, and he laughed heartily. But his merriment was short-lived. Incidentally he noticed the loss of the ring, and his countenance changed. "My ring gone!" he exclaimed. "What can have become of it? It was worth fifty dollars at least. I must have dropped it into that fellow's pocket when I took his wallet. That's a pretty bad exchange. What an unlucky chap I am! I am about forty dollars out of pocket." The satisfaction of Mr. Morris was quite destroyed. There seemed little hope of his recovering the ring, for he could not make known its loss without betraying himself.