"The boy little suspects that that is a bogus letter, and that there is no such person as Ashley Robinson in New York. If there is, I haven't the honor of knowing him. It was rather a happy idea of mine, as the boy's suspicion will not be so easily aroused if he thinks I am engaged in a legitimate business journey. Well, well, I shall be glad when the job is accomplished, for it isn't overmuch to my taste. That villain Hugo might find it to his mind. It is a pity that such fellows should succeed in feathering their nests and getting all the good things of this life. When this work is done, I shall have a hold upon him, and it won't be my fault if I don't make him pay handsomely for doing his dirty work for him." Presently Robert returned. "Did you mail the letter?" asked his employer. "Yes, sir." "That is well, for it was an important one." "You forgot to tell your correspondent where to write you," said Robert, to whom the omission had occurred as he was returning. Fitzgerald was for a moment embarrassed, but he was a man of ready wit. "Oh, he will know," he answered; "he will address me at the town where his land is located." This seemed a plausible explanation, and Robert said no more. They walked to the railroad station with their valises in hand. On the way rather a rough-looking man accosted Fitzgerald. "Why, Fitz, old fellow, how did you drop down here?" Fitzgerald flushed, and answered hurriedly— "I came by cars from New York." "I don't mean that. What's your lay, and who have you got with you?" "Excuse me, Brandon, I am in a hurry," Fitzgerald answered, uncomfortably. Brandon whistled. "Something mysterious, eh?" he said. "Not at all, but you must excuse me." It seemed peculiar to Robert, who had seen considerable of the world, that a reputable business man should be addressed in the terms employed by Brandon, and he looked his surprise. "That man is an acquaintance I stumbled across in one of my business journeys," explained Fitzgerald when they passed on, "and he assumed undue familiarity. A man stumbles across some strange acquaintances; I prefer to steer clear of such parties, but it is sometimes hard to shake them off." "He seemed very well acquainted," thought Robert, but he said nothing. In fact he was considerably at a loss what to think of his employer, who chose to say very little of his past history. He felt that he should not care to remain long with him, but for the present there seemed no objection to fill up the remainder of the season in his employ. From Chicago Robert and his employer travelled northwest, till they entered the State of Minnesota. Here, somewhat to Robert's surprise, they left the cars at a small town, which I will call Florence, and registered at a small hotel, which I will call the Dearborn House. Probably our hero looked surprised, and Fitzgerald volunteered an explanation. "It is here where Mr. Robertson's land is located," he said.