"Not quite yet. You need a further lesson." So saying, Hercules seized the tramp suddenly, raised him aloft, threw him up in the air, and then hurled him to the distance of a couple of rods, where he lay stunned for a minute or two. "Now clear out!" said Hercules sternly, as the rascal rose to his feet and limped off. "I would give you in charge if it were not too much trouble. Never let me set eyes on you again!" "I won't if I can help it," muttered the tramp as he slunk away. "Now, Robert, come down from the tree, and tell me all about yourself." Robert told his story, and asked Hercules for similar information. "I've been to see a sister who lives near here," he said, "and now am on my way back to North's circus, where I am engaged." "Where are they?" "At Athens." "How far off is that?" "Only ten miles." "Is there anything for me?" asked Robert, eagerly. "I want to work my way back to the East." "They've got a rider—but I forgot, your doctor won't let you ride. If you don't mind selling at the lemonade stand, there'll be a chance. They've sent off the boy that worked for them the first of the season. Young Ajax is with the circus, and others whom you know." "I'll go." The same night the two friends joined North's circus, and set out on a leisurely return to the East. CHAPTER XXXII. FITZGERALD'S DISAPPOINTMENT. We must now go back to Chestnutwood, where the old man, Cornelius Richmond, though blessed with a large share of the gifts of fortune, was passing his declining years in loneliness, with no one of his kindred near him except his nephew, Hugo. For years Hugo had been his constant companion; in manner, at least, he had been devoted to his uncle, yet the old man had never been drawn to him. Sometimes he reproached himself because he could not feel more warmly towards his nephew. "Hugo seems devoted to me," he said to himself. "Why is it that I cannot thoroughly like him? It must be because my heart is in the grave of my son Julian. Ah, if only his son were living, that I might have my grandson with me. That boy whom I saw riding in the circus—I could get to love him for his resemblance to my son; but Hugo tells me he has lost all traces of him." The simple old man little suspected that his crafty nephew had taken effectual means to prevent his ever seeing any more of this boy, towards whom he felt a yearning affection, for which we can account, though he could not. Indeed, he was not a man to suspect guile of any one, being in himself so guileless, and he really thought that Hugo's attentions were dictated by genuine affection, instead of selfish scheming for his uncle's wealth. "You have heard nothing more about the boy, Hugo?" he asked one morning. "No, uncle," answered Hugo, suppressing an expression of impatience. "It is strange." "I am afraid you would be disappointed in him, even if we could find him, and bring him here, Uncle Cornelius."