"Ah, that's a different matter. I'm afeard, Duke," he continued, addressing his companion, "that we shall be under the necessity of making a forced loan; how does the proposition strike you?"

"I'm convinced we shall be reduced to that painful necessity. If I'm not mistook, this young gentleman was paid a hundred dollars this afternoon for his bravery in throwing a royal Bengal tiger over his shoulder and bringing him back to the circus, from which erstwhile the animal strayed."

Poor Tom saw it was all up with him. These wretches must have known about the reward from the moment he received it. They had planned the robbery, and he had walked straight into the trap set for him.

"Yes, I have a hundred dollars given to me for helping to catch the tiger; I was taking it home to my mother."

"That's a good boy," commented the count; "always think of your mother, for the market isn't overstocked with first-cla.s.s mothers. But bear in mind, sonny, that we're only borering this for sixty days, and we'll give you ten per cent interest--that's our style of doing bus'ness, eh, Duke?"

"Well, if I must, I must," said Tom hopelessly, making a move of his hand as if to draw the money from his trousers pocket.

"That's right, allers take things philosophically, and be ready to extend a helping hand to them as"--

The count had got thus far in his observations, when the boy darted to one side, and made a desperate attempt to pa.s.s them and reach the fence on his right.

He came very nigh succeeding too. In fact, he did get to the fence, and was in the act of clambering over, when he was seized in the iron grip of Count De Buffer, who was angered at the narrow escape of the youth making off with the funds.

"If you try anything like that agin, I'll kill you!" he said, choking and shaking the boy; "we mean bus'ness, young man, and don't you forget it!"

Tom still struggled furiously, and pulled so hard that all three moved several paces along the highway. Nor did he cease his resistance until he had been struck several cruel blows.

"Now fork over them funds!" commanded the count, when the panting lad was exhausted.

"I sha'n't do it!" was the st.u.r.dy reply.

"Very well; then we'll do it for you."

The lad made no resistance, and the tramps searched him thoroughly from head to foot. Not a penny was found on him.

"We ought to break your head for that trick," said the duke, "and if it had done you any good we'd do so; but we understand it. You flung the money away when you made a rush for the fence."

"If I did," was the defiant response of the boy, "all you've got to do is to find it again."

"We'll soon do that; hold him fast till I get it, and then we'll settle with him."

The tousled scamp shuffled off to the side of the highway to search for the package, which he was convinced had been thrown there at the time their prisoner made his dash for freedom.

"That'll prove bad bus'ness for you," growled the duke, who was the custodian of Tom.

"Not any worse than if you had got it," replied the youth, who was thoroughly roused by his brutal treatment. He had been struck several times, but could not believe the ruffians would dare put him to death in revenge for the loss of the money, that is, provided they did recover it.

"Haven't you found it, d.i.c.k?" called the duke, forgetting the t.i.tle of his comrade.

"No, confound it! I don't know where to look for it."

"Where did you fling it?" demanded the duke of his captive.

"I shall not tell you; you may kill me first."

"Very well; take that!"

But Tom managed to dodge the blow, and, by a quick leap, freed himself of the grip of his captor. The next minute he was off like a deer.

Possibly the tramp might have overtaken him, had he made the effort; but he chose to let him go while he joined his friend in hunting for the money.

They kept up the search for hours, and were then, obliged to give it up.

Afraid that the boy, who must have reached home long before, would bring friends back, the tramps took their departure while the opportunity was theirs, and were seen no more.

Tom Gordon did a brave thing. The moment he discovered he was not pursued, he hid himself at the side of the road, and waited till the scamps departed. Then, when the moon had risen, he stole back again, and, remembering quite well where he had thrown the package of money, found it with little difficulty, and reaching home without further incident, told his stirring experience to his mother and aunt.

Chapter VII.

It will be admitted that Tom Gordon and Jim Travers had met with a pretty stirring experience, as a result of the visit of the circus and menagerie to Briggsville. Tom had not been able to attend the performance; but it may be said he was favored with a little "circus" of his own, in which he played the part of star performer. But all's well that ends well, and he had the pleasure of walking into his humble home and turning over to his mother the handsome reward paid for the restoration of Tippo Sahib, comparatively unharmed, to the owner. He was so well liked by teacher and playmates that all congratulated him. There was no jealousy of his good fortune, for there was none more deserving, and, it may be added, no more in need of the material help given by that one hundred dollars.

But what has been told was but an incident in the life of the two boys, whose fortunes I have set out to tell. A remarkable train of circ.u.mstances in due course involved the lads in a series of incidents which had an important bearing on their future lives, and taught a lesson which young lads cannot learn too often in this world.

Tom and Jim devoted themselves more closely than ever to their school studies, and, as a result, became two of the best-informed pupils at that crude inst.i.tution of learning. They grew to be strong, st.u.r.dy youths, as fond of athletic sports as they were of study, and with a promise of the right sort of success in life. Neither dreamed of what the immediate future had in store for them.

A year after the incident of the tiger, Tom's Aunt Cynthia peacefully died, and a few month later, to his almost inconsolable grief, his beloved mother pa.s.sed away. Thus he was left an orphan, without brother or sister.

The blow was a crushing one, and for weeks he wished to die and join the dear ones that had gone before. He grieved until his friends feared he was falling into a decline, and became seriously concerned for him.

It has been truly said, however, that no person in the enjoyment of health and vigor of body can long be crushed by affliction. He will rally sooner or later. Thus it proved in the case of Tom Gordon. His former strength and spirits gradually came back to him. There were moments and hours when he was weighed down by his great loss; but it was gradually softened by the pa.s.sage of time, until the day came when his friends believed he had fully recovered from the sorrow that had nearly driven the life from his body and soul.

One sad feature of his affliction was that he was left almost penniless.

With all the thrift, frugality, and self-denial of mother and aunt, they had been able to leave the youth hardly anything at all when they died.

The humble home, with all its belongings, was sold for less than the mortgage, and Tom found himself with little besides the clothes he wore and a few precious mementoes of those that had pa.s.sed away.

In a community where he was so favorably known, it was impossible that he should suffer actual want. More than one home was offered him, not only until he could find some situation or engage in some trade, but as long as he chose to avail himself of it.

Tom was forced to accept some one of these offers, and he went home with Jim Travers until he could decide what to do. He knew he was welcome there, and could stay as long as he wished, though he had no thought of becoming a burden upon the kind friends that had opened their doors to him.

Now, it was this change in the surroundings in the daily life of Tom Gordon that led to the singular incidents I have set out to tell.

Jim Travers lived alone with his father, who was in fair circ.u.mstances.

His mother had died in his infancy; and his only sister, Maggie, was his playmate for a few years longer, when she departed to join the loved one that had preceded her. The husband and father became a lonely and bowed man, whose years were far less than they seemed. Although a farmer in a small way, he committed the sad error of engaging in stock speculations, more with a view of diverting his mind from his gnawing grief than with the hope of bettering his fortune. It is hardly necessary to relate what followed. He was successful for a time, and improved his financial standing. He gladly welcomed Tom Gordon beneath his roof, for he knew his own boy could not have a playmate whose company would be more improving to him. Then Mr. Travers dipped more deeply into speculation. With brighter prospects than ever, there came the fateful hour in Wall Street, when every penny was swept from him.

"I am a beggar!" he gasped, when the whole dreadful truth broke upon him; "and I am too old to begin life again. It is better that I should die."

And die he did in the great city of New York. The shock was fatal; and his body was brought back to Briggsville, and laid to rest beside the forms of his wife and little Maggie, that had died long before. Jim was dazed by the unexpected blow. It became the privilege of Tom Gordon to act as his comforter, but it was a long time before the little fellow came out from the valley of shadow into the life-giving sunlight again.

But here was the solemn situation: Tom Gordon and Jim Travers were orphans, with no near relatives, and with only their own hands to earn their daily bread. What was the best thing for them to do?

This was the grave question which the two boys sat down to answer in the gloom of a wintry evening, when they were about fourteen years of age.