"I haven't much faith in your promises, but I'll leave it to the boy. Ernest, what shall I do with this man?" Ernest had come forward, and was standing but a few feet from Luke and his captive. "If he promises to reform," said Ernest, "you'd better give him another chance, Luke." "I am not sure that I ought to, but it is you to whom he has done the most harm. If you give him over to the miners we shall never be troubled by him again." Tom Burns turned pale, for he knew that life and death were in the balance, and that those two--Luke and the boy--were to decide his fate. Ernest could not help pitying the trembling wretch. He was naturally kind hearted, and at that moment he felt that he could forgive Burns all that he had done. "Since you have left it to me, Luke," he said, "let him go." "It shall be as you say, Ernest." As he spoke he released his hold, and Tom Burns stood erect. He breathed a deep sigh of relief. "May I go?" he asked submissively. "Yes." Before leaving he turned to Ernest. "You are a good-hearted boy," he said, "and I shall not forget that you have saved my life. If I am ever able to do anything for you, I will do it. You will find that Tom Burns, bad as he has been, knows how to be grateful." "I think you mean what you say," returned Ernest. "I hope you will keep your promise and will turn over a new leaf. Is it true that you are penniless?" "Not quite. This is all I have." Burns drew from his pocket a handful of small change--less than a dollar in all--and held it out for inspection. "Then I will help you along." Ernest took from his pocket a five-dollar gold piece, and offered it to the tramp. "That is more than I would do for him," said Luke. "It is more than I deserve," replied Burns, "but you won't be sorry for your kindness. If ever you see me again, I shall be a different man." He passed out of the window, and they saw him no more. Luke and Ernest said very little of their night's adventure, but the gold watch and the Mexican dollar were returned to the man from whom they had been taken. Six months passed. Oreville had doubled its population, the mines had yielded a large sum in gold dust, and the store presided over by Ernest was considerably enlarged. His services had been so satisfactory that Horace Ames, whose time was taken up elsewhere, had raised his share of the profits to one half. At the end of six months, besides defraying his expenses, Ernest found himself possessed of a thousand dollars. "Luke, I feel rich," said he, when his faithful friend came round for a chat. "You've done better than I have," rejoined Luke. "The most I have been able to scrape together is four hundred dollars." "I will give you a part of my money, so that we may be even." "No, you won t, Ernest. What do you take me for? I should be ashamed to touch any of your hard earnings."