“Well, to go on,” continued Mr. Milton, who it was evident was eager to hear an account of the entire trip from first hands; “one word led to another, I standing up for my nephew and his chums; and Marcus declaring that he’d wager a big sum he could hoodwink the whole lot of you.” “He did, and he didn’t!” broke in Will, just then. “Finally it was settled that the wager should be along these lines,” Mr. Milton went on to say; “I was to write the letter I did, and which was partly dictated by Marcus himself. Then later, he was to meet you on the trip, and in some way manage to accompany you, in spite of my request that you take no passengers, and least of all the man called Marcus Stackpole. If he was aboard the boat when you came into New Orleans, with or without your knowledge, I was to lose; but if he found himself unable to get aboard, or stay there to the end after making a lodgment, Marcus was to admit that he was beaten. That’s the story in a nutshell.” “Then you must have heard from him, sir,” remarked Frank; “how we finally left him behind at Memphis, after penetrating his disguise?” “Yes, he wrote me about it, and here is his letter. Let me read it to you, for it is really very short; and afterwards you’re to spend hours telling me everything that happened from the hour you left St. Paul up to the time you landed here in New Orleans.” “Agreed, Uncle!” cried the delighted Will. So Uncle Felix, with many chuckles, as though he thoroughly enjoyed the affair, especially the way it terminated, opened a crumpled sheet of paper, and read aloud: ———— “After all my boasting in previous letters how cleverly I was hoodwinking those wonderfully smart boys of yours, Felix, blessed if they didn’t see my lead, and go me one better. Here I am, stranded in Memphis, with ten dollars thrust into my pocket, and a note telling me that they are on to my little game, and bidding me good-by. No use trying to deceive them again, and I own up beaten. They’re a fine, manly lot of young chaps, and I’ve grown to love them as if they were my own boys during the time I’ve been watching them. Just now I must chase across to Chattanooga to settle a matter that had been suddenly thrust upon me; but if they are still with you in Orleans when I get there, it will be the greatest pleasure of my life to renew my acquaintance with Frank, Jerry, Bluff, and not forgetting your nephew Will. “Your old campmate, _“Marcus Stackpole.”_ By this time all the boys wore wide grins, just as though they felt like shaking hands with each other, in congratulation over the fact that, after all their narrow escapes, they had in the end caused this friend of Uncle Felix to lose his wager.