James—who certainly was not a coward—surveyed his companion contemptuously. “Much obliged to you for your kind offer,” said he, addressing Temple, “but I must decline it.” “You’ve got too long a tongue, young man!” said Temple, provoked by the other’s coolness. “I’ve a mind to teach you a lesson.” “When I want one I will let you know,” said Congreve, changing his tone and manner and regarding the other scornfully. “Meanwhile, my man, I advise you not to drink so early in the morning. It doesn’t improve your naturally bad manners.” With a muttered exclamation Ralph Temple sprang forward, prepared to handle Congreve roughly, as he was quite able to do, being much his superior in size and strength, but, with his hand nearly touching the shoulder of the young man, recoiled, as Congreve drew out a revolver and pointed it at him. “One step further and I fire!” he said, in a calm, collected tone, while Philip stood by, as pale as a sheet. “Confusion!” exclaimed the ruffian, in mingled amazement and dismay. “Who are you, anyway?” “My name is James Congreve, at your service,” said the owner of that name, bowing. “I regret that I haven’t a card about me.” “You’re a cool customer!” muttered Temple, surveying Congreve curiously. “So people tell me. You’ll find me at the hotel in the village, if you have any further business with me.” Congreve nodded carelessly and left the spot—Phil, in a very nervous condition, keeping himself somewhat in advance. “He’s a cool chap,” muttered the ruffian. “But it’s clear he knows nothing of our affair. I was a fool to make a fuss. It might lead to suspicion.” “What a dreadful man!” said Philip, as the two were walking away. “Do you know him?” “His name is Ralph Temple. He’s a kind of tramp.” “He’s an impertinent fellow, at any rate. It’s well I had my revolver with me.” They walked back to the village, momentarily expecting to see or hear something of Harry Gilbert; but neither then nor later in the day was their curiosity gratified. CHAPTER XX — ON THE WAY TO NEW YORK Harry stepped on board the train without seeing any one whom he knew, and took a seat on the right-hand side. Just in front of him was an elderly farmer, with a face well browned by exposure to the sun and wind. He had a kindly face, and looked sociable. It was not long before he addressed our young hero. “Going to New York?” he asked. “Yes, sir.” “Are you acquainted there?” “No, sir; not much.” “Nor I. I was thinking you might be able to direct me to a place where I could get money for some cowpons.” “Government coupons?” inquired Harry, becoming interested. “Yes. You see, my wife’s uncle died not long ago, and left Sarah a government bond of a thousand dollars, drawing six per cent interest. There’s thirty dollars due the first of this month, and I told Sarah that I’d go and collect it for her.”