"Where are you?" "Here," answered Dick, throwing his blanket aside, rising and stepping toward the old man, who, more bent than ever, was shaking as though from fright. "Don't be afraid of us, sir. Can we help you in anything?" "I am afraid not," replied the peddler, then leaned against a tree-trunk, staring, as he tried to stifle his sobs. "What has happened, sir?" asked Tom Reade, also stepping forward. "I've been robbed!" replied the old man, in a broken voice. "Robbed?" repeated Dick. "Do you mean that some villains have stolen the goods from your wagon?" "No, no!" replied the old man, with sudden, unlooked for vehemence. "I've been robbed, I tell you---my money stolen!" "Money?" asked Tom in surprise. "How much was taken from you?" "Four hundred and eighteen dollars," replied the old man, with a lack of reserve that testified to his confidence in these unknown but respectful and sympathetic high school boys. "All that money?" cried Dick. "How did you ever come to have so much about you?" "I owe some bills for goods, over at Hillsboro," replied Reuben Hinman, "and this trip was to take me toward Hillsboro. But now-----" He broke off, the strange, rending sobbing returning. "Perhaps we can help you, bad as the case looks," Tom suggested. "Try to tell us all about it, sir." "Where did you have the money?" inquired Dick. "In a wallet, in this inside coat pocket," replied the peddler, holding his frayed coat open at the right side. "You carried your wallet as conspicuously as that when traveling over lonely country roads?" cried Prescott in amazement. "I had a lot of letters and papers in front of the wallet, so that no one would suspect that I had the wallet or the money," explained Reuben Hinman. "I don't see any papers there now," Tom interposed. "They're gone," replied Mr. Hinman. "Probably the thief thought the papers valuable, also, but they weren't.-----" "You were robbed---when?" asked Dick. "When I was sleeping." "At some farm house?" Reade inquired. "No; I slept on a pile of old rags that I had taken in trade." "In the wagon?-----" from Prescott. "Yes." "But why did you sleep in the wagon? And where did you have the wagon?" Dick pressed. "The wagon was off the road, two miles below here," the peddler explained brokenly. "It would cost me fifty cents for a bed at a farm house, so, when the night is fine, I sleep outdoors on the wagon and save the money. It's cheaper with the horse, too, as I have to pay only for his feed." "But the money?" Tom pressed the old man. Reuben Hinman groaned, but did not take to sobbing again. "I woke up to-night, and found it gone," he answered. "Did you feel or hear anyone prowling about, or searching your clothing?" "No; if I had discovered anyone robbing me," shivered the peddler, "I would have caught and held on to him. I have strong hands. I have strong hands. Do you see?"