hospitably. "I shall be glad to introduce Mrs. Preston. My son is at
boarding school, so I shall not be able to let you see him."

"Have you but one child, then?"

"But one. His absence leaves us alone."

Godfrey's absence would have been lamented more by his father, had his
character and disposition been different. But he was so arrogant and
overbearing in his manners, and so selfish, that his father hoped that
association with other boys would cure him in part of these
objectionable traits. At home, he was so much indulged by his mother,
who could see no fault in him, as long as he did not oppose her, that
there was little chance of amendment.

So they rode on, conversing on various topics, but their conversation
was not of sufficient importance for me to report. At length they
entered on a portion of the road lined on either side by a natural
forest. Fairfax looked about him.

"I suppose, Colonel Preston, these are the woods you referred to?"

"Yes, sir."

"How far do they extend?"

"About a mile."

They had traversed about half a mile, when Fairfax said:

"If you don't object, Colonel Preston, I will step out a moment.
There's a tree with a peculiar leaf. I would like to examine it nearer
to."

"Certainly, Mr. Fairfax," said the colonel, though he wondered what
tree it could be, for he saw no tree of an unusual character.

The chaise stopped and Fairfax jumped off. But he seemed to have
forgotten the object of dismounting. Instead of examining the foliage
of a tree, he stepped to the horse's head, and seized him by the
bridle.

"What are you going to do, Mr. Fairfax?" asked Colonel Preston, in
surprise.

By this time Fairfax had withdrawn a pistol from his inside pocket,
and deliberately pointed it at his companion.

"Good heavens! Mr. Fairfax, what do you mean?"

"Colonel Preston," said the adventurer, "I want all the money you have
about you. I know you have a considerable sum, for you have yourself
acknowledged it."

"Why," exclaimed Colonel Preston, startled, "this is highway robbery."

"Precisely!" said Fairfax, bowing mockingly. "You have had the honor
of riding with a highwayman. Will you be good enough to give me the
money at once? I am in haste."

"Surely, this is a joke, Mr. Fairfax. I have heard of such practical
jokes before. You are testing my courage. I am not in the least
frightened. Jump in the chaise again, and we will proceed."

"That's a very kind way of putting it," said Fairfax, coolly; "but not
correct. I am no counterfeit, but the genuine article. Fairfax is not
my name. I won't tell you what it is, for it might be inconvenient."

No man can look with equanimity upon the prospect of losing money, and
Colonel Preston may be excused for not wishing to part with his eight
hundred dollars. But how could he escape? He had no pistol, and
Fairfax held the horse's bridle in a strong grasp. If he could only
parley with him till some carriage should come up, he might save his
money. It seemed the only way, and he resolved to try it.

"Mr. Fairfax," he said, "if you are really what you represent, I hope
you will consider the natural end of such a career. Turn, I entreat
you, to a more honest course of life."

"That may come some time," said Fairfax; "but at present my
necessities are too great. Oblige me by producing your pocketbook."

"I will give you one hundred dollars, and keep the matter a secret
from all. That will be better than to expose yourself to the penalty
of the law."

"Colonel Preston, a hundred dollars will not satisfy me. You have
eight hundred dollars with you, and I shall not leave this spot till
it is transferred to my possession."

"If I refuse?"

"You will subject me to the unpleasant alternative of blowing your
brains out," said the other, coolly.

"You surely would not be guilty of such a crime, Mr. Fairfax?" said
Colonel Preston, with a shudder.

"I would rather not. I have no desire to take your life, but I must
have that money. If you prefer to keep your money, you will compel me
to the act. You'll gain nothing, for in that case I shall take
both--your life first, and your money afterward."

"And this is the man with whom I dined, and with whom, a few moments
since, I was conversing freely!" thought Colonel Preston.

The adventurer became impatient.

"Colonel Preston," he said, abruptly, "produce that money instantly,
or I will fire."

There was no alternative. With reluctant hand the colonel drew out his
pocketbook, and was about to hand it with its contents to the
highwayman, when there was a sudden crash in the bushes behind
Fairfax, his pistol was dashed from his hand, and our young hero, Andy
Burke, with resolute face, stood with his gun leveled at him. All
happened so quickly that both Colonel Preston and Fairfax were taken
by surprise, and the latter, still retaining his hold upon the bridle,
stared at the young hero, who had so intrepidly come between him and
his intended victim.

With an oath he stopped, and was about to pick up the pistol which had
fallen from his hands, but was arrested by the quick, decisive tones
of Andy:

"Let that pistol alone! If you pick it up, I will shoot you on the
spot."




CHAPTER XIX
BAFFLED A ROBBER


Fairfax paused at Andy's threat. He was only a boy, it is true, but he
looked cool and resolute, and the gun, which was pointed at him,
looked positively dangerous. But was he to be thwarted in the very
moment of his triumph, by a boy? He could not endure it.

"Young man," he said, "this is dangerous business for you. If you
don't make yourself scarce, you won't be likely to return at all."

"I'll take the risk," said Andy, coolly.

"Confound him! I thought he'd be frightened," said Fairfax to himself.

"I don't want to kill you," he said, with a further attempt to
intimidate Andy.

"I don't mean to let you," said our hero, quietly.

"You are no match for me."

"With a gun I am."

"I don't believe it is loaded."

"If you try to pick up that pistol, I'll convince you; by the powers,
I will," said Andy, energetically.

"What is to prevent my taking away the gun from you?"

"Faith," returned Andy, quaintly, "you'll take the powder and ball
first, I'm thinkin'."

Fairfax thought so, too, and that was one reason why he concluded not
to try it.

It was certainly a provoking position for him.

There lay the pistol on the ground, just at his feet; yet, if he tried
to pick it up, the boy would put a bullet through him. It was
furthermore provoking to reflect that, had he not stopped to parley
with Colonel Preston, he might have secured the money, which he so
much desired, before Andy had come up. There was one other resource.
He had tried bullying, and without success. He would try cajoling and
temptation.

"Look here, boy," he said, "I am a desperate man. I would as leave
murder you as not."

"Thank you," said Andy. "But I'd rather not have it done."

"I don't want to hurt you, as I said before, but you mustn't interfere
with me."

"Then you mustn't interfere with the colonel."

"I must have the money in his pocketbook."

"Must you? Maybe, I'll have something to say, to that."

"He has eight hundred dollars with him."

"Did he tell you?"

"No matter; I know. If you won't interfere with me, I'll give you two
hundred of it."

"Thank you for nothing, then," said Andy, independently. "I'm only a
poor Irish boy, but I ain't a thafe, and never mane to be."

"Bravo, Andy!" said Colonel Preston, who had awaited with a little
anxiety the result of the offer.

Fairfax stooped suddenly, but before he could get hold of the pistol,
Andy struck him on the head with the gun-barrel, causing him to roll
over, while, in a quick and adroit movement, he himself got hold of
the pistol before Fairfax had recovered from the crack on his head.

"Now," said Andy, triumphantly, with the gun over his shoulder, and
presenting the pistol, "lave here mighty quick, or I'll shoot ye."

"Give me back the pistol, then," said the discomfited ruffian.

"I guess not," said Andy.

"It's my property."

"I don't know that. Maybe you took it from some thraveler."

"Give it to me, and I'll go off peaceably."

"I won't take no robber's word," said Andy. "Are you goin'?"

"Give me the pistol. Fire it off, if you like."

"That you may load it again. You don't catch a weasel asleep,"
answered Andy, shrewdly. "I've a great mind to make you march into the
village, and give you up to the perlice."

This suggestion was by no means pleasant for the highwayman,
particularly as he reflected that Andy had shown himself a resolute
boy, and doubly armed as he now was, it was quite within his power to
carry out his threat.

"Don't fire after me," he said.

"I never attack an inimy in the rare," said Andy, who always indulged
in the brogue more than usual under exciting circumstances.

I make this explanation, as the reader may have noticed a difference
in his dialect at different times.

"We shall meet again, boy!" said Fairfax, menacingly, turning at the
distance of a few feet.

"Thank you, sir. You needn't thrubble yourself," said Andy, "I ain't
anxious to mate you."

"When we do meet, you'll know it," said the other.

"Maybe I will. Go along wid ye!" said Andy, pointing the pistol at
him.

"Don't shoot," said Fairfax, hastily, and he quickened his pace to get
out of the way of a dangerous companion.

Andy laughed as the highwayman disappeared in the distance.

"I thought he wouldn't wait long," he said.

"Andy," said Colonel Preston, warmly, "you have behaved like a hero."

"I'm only an Irish boy," said Andy, laughing. "Shure, they don't make
heroes of such as I."

"I don't care whether you are Irish or Dutch. You are a hero for all
that."

"Shure, sir, it's lucky I was round whin that spalpeen wanted to rob
you."

"How did you happen to be out with a gun this afternoon?"

"I got my work all done, and Miss Grant said I might go out shootin'
if I wanted. Shure, I didn't expect it 'ud been robbers I would be
afther shootin'."

"You came up just in the nick of time. Weren't you afraid?"

"I didn't stop to think of that when I saw that big blackguard
p'intin' his pistol at you. I thought I'd have a hand in it myself."

"Jump into the chaise, Andy, and ride home with me."

"What, wid the gun?"

"To be sure. We won't leave the gun. That has done us too good service
already to-day."

"I've made something out of it, anyway," said Andy, displaying the
pistol, which was silver-mounted, and altogether a very pretty weapon.
"It's a regular beauty," he said, with admiration.

"It will be better in your hands than in the real owner's," said
Colonel Preston.

By this time Andy was in the chaise, rapidly nearing the village.

"If you hadn't come up just as you did, Andy, I should have been
poorer by eight hundred dollars."

"That's a big pile of money," said Andy, who, as we know, was not in
the habit of having large sums of money in his own possession.

"It is considerably more than I would like to lose," said Colonel
Preston, to whom it was of less importance than to Andy.

"I wonder will I ever have so much money?" thought Andy.

"Now, I'll tell you what I think it only right to do, Andy," pursued
the colonel.

Andy listened attentively.

"I am going to make you a present of some money, as an acknowledgment
of the service you have done me."

"I don't want anything, Colonel Preston," said Andy. "I didn't help
you for the money."

"I know you didn't, my lad," said the colonel, "but I mean to give it
to you all the same."

He took out his pocketbook, but Andy made one more remonstrance.

"I don't think I ought to take it, sir, thankin' you all the same."

"Then I will give you one hundred dollars for your mother. You can't
refuse it for her."

Andy's eyes danced with delight. He knew how much good this money
would do his mother, and relieve her from the necessity of working so
hard as she was now compelled to do.

"Thank you, sir," he said. "It'll make my mother's heart glad, and
save her from the hard work."

"Here is the money, Andy," said the colonel, handing his young
companion a roll of bills.

Again Andy poured out warm protestations of gratitude for the
munificent gift, with which Colonel Preston was well pleased.

"I believe you are a good boy, Andy," he said. "It is a good sign when
a boy thinks so much of his mother."

"I'd be ashamed not to, sir," said Andy.

They soon reached the village. Andy got down at the Misses Grant's
gate, and was soon astonishing the simple ladies by a narrative of his
encounter with the highwayman.

"Do you think he'll come here?" asked Sophia, in alarm. "If he should
come when Andy was away----"

"You could fire the gun yourself, Sophia."

"I should be frightened to death."

"Then he couldn't kill you afterward."

"Just so," answered Sophia, a little bewildered.

"Were you shot, Andrew?" she asked, a minute afterward.

"If I was, I didn't feel it," said Andy, jocosely.

Andy's heroic achievement made him still more valued by the Misses
Grant, and they rejoiced in the handsome gift he had received from the
colonel, and readily gave him permission to carry it to his mother
after supper.




CHAPTER XX
HOW THE NEWS WAS RECEIVED


It is always pleasant to carry good news, and Andy hastened with
joyful feet to his mother's humble dwelling.

"Why, Andy, you're out of breath. What's happened?" asked Mrs. Burke.

"I was afraid of bein' robbed," said Andy.

"The robber wouldn't get much that would steal from you, Andy."

"I don't know that, mother. I ain't so poor as you think. Look there,
now!"

Here he displayed the roll of bills. There were twenty fives, which
made quite a thick roll.

"Where did you get so much, Andy?" asked his sister Mary.

"How much is it?" asked his mother.

"A hundred dollars," answered Andy, proudly.

"A hundred dollars!" repeated his mother, with apprehension. "Oh,
Andy, I hope you haven't been stealing?"

"Did you ever know me to stale, mother?" said Andy.

"No, but I thought you might be tempted. Whose money is it?"

"It's yours, mother."

"Mine!" exclaimed Mrs. Burke, in astonishment. "You're joking now,
Andy."

"No, I'm not. It's yours."

"Where did it come from, then?"

"Colonel Preston sent it to you as a present."

"I am afraid you are not tellin' me the truth, Andy," said his mother,
doubtfully. "Why should he send me so much money?"

"Listen, and I'll tell you, mother, and you'll see it's the truth I've
been tellin'."

Thereupon he told the story of his adventure with the highwayman and
how he had saved Colonel Preston from being robbed.

His mother listened with pride, for though Andy spoke modestly, she
could see that he had acted in a brave and manly way, and it made her
proud of him.

"So the colonel," Andy concluded, "wanted to give me a hundred
dollars, but I didn't like to take it myself. But when he said he
would give it to you, I couldn't say anything ag'inst that. So here it
is, mother, and I hope you'll spend some of it on yourself."

"I don't feel as if it belonged to me, Andy. It was you that he meant
it for."

"Keep it, mother, and it'll do to use when we nade it."

"I don't like to keep so much money in the house, Andy. We might be
robbed."

"You can put part of it in the savings bank, mother."

This course was adopted, and Andy himself carried eighty dollars, and
deposited it in a savings bank in Melville, a few days afterward.

Meanwhile Colonel Preston told the story of Andy's prowess, at home.
But Mrs. Preston was prejudiced against Andy, and listened coldly.

"It seems to me, Colonel Preston," she said, "you are making
altogether too much of that Irish boy. He puts on enough airs to make
one sick already."

"I never observed it, my dear," said the colonel, mildly.

"Everyone else does. He thought himself on a level with our Godfrey."

"He is Godfrey's superior in some respects."

"Oh, well, if you are going to exalt him above your own flesh and
blood, I won't stay and listen to you."

"You disturb yourself unnecessarily, my dear. I have no intention of
adopting him in place of my son. But he has done me a great service
this after-noon, and displayed a coolness and courage very unusual in
a boy of his age. But for him, I should be eight hundred dollars
poorer."

"Oh, well, you can give him fifty cents, and he will be well paid for
his services, as you call them."

"Fifty cents!" repeated her husband.

"Well, a dollar, if you like."

"I have given him a hundred dollars."

"A hundred dollars!" almost screamed Mrs. Preston, who was a very mean
woman. "Are you insane?"

"Not that I am aware of, my dear."

"It is perfectly preposterous to give such a sum to such a boy."

"I ought to say that I gave it to him for his mother. He was not
willing to accept it for himself."

"That's a likely story," said Mrs. Preston, incredulously. "He only
wants to make a favorable impression upon you--perhaps to get more out
of you."

"You misjudge him, my dear."

"I know he is an artful, intriguing young rascal. You give him a
hundred dollars, yet you refused to give Godfrey ten dollars last
week."

"For a very good reason. He has a liberal allowance, and must keep
within it. He did not need the money he asked for."

"Yet you lavish a hundred dollars on this boy."

"I felt justified in doing so. Which was better, to give him that sum,
or to lose eight hundred?"

"I don't like the boy, and I never shall. I suppose he will be
strutting around, boasting of his great achievement. If he had a gun
it was nothing to do."

"I suspect Godfrey would hardly have ventured upon it," said the
colonel, smiling.

"Oh, of course, Godfrey is vastly inferior to the Irish boy!" remarked
Mrs. Preston, ironically. "You admire the family so much that I
suppose if I were taken away, you would marry his mother and establish
her in my place."

"If you have any such apprehensions, my dear, your best course is to
outlive her. That will effectually prevent my marrying her, and I
pledge you my word that, while you are alive, I shall not think of
eloping with her."

"It is very well to jest about it," said Mrs. Preston, tossing her
head.

"I am precisely of your opinion, my dear. As you observe, that is
precisely what I am doing."

So the interview terminated. It was very provoking to Mrs. Preston
that her husband should have given away a hundred dollars to Andy
Burke's mother, but the thing was done, and could not be undone.
However, she wrote an account of the affair to Godfrey, who, she knew,
would sympathize fully with her view of the case. I give some extracts
from her letter:

"Your father seems perfectly infatuated with that low Irish boy. Of
course, I allude to Andy Burke. He has gone so far as to give him a
hundred dollars. Yesterday, in riding home from Melville, with eight
hundred dollars in his pocketbook, he says he was stopped by a
highwayman, who demanded his money or his life. Very singularly, Andy
came up just in the nick of time with a gun, and made a great show of
interfering, and finally drove the man away, as your father reports.
He is full of praise of Andy, and, as I said, gave him a hundred
dollars, when two or three would have been quite enough, even had the
rescue been real. But of this I have my doubts. It is very strange
that the boy should have been on the spot just at the right time,
still more strange that a full-grown man should have been frightened
away by a boy of fifteen. In fact, I think it is what they call a
'put-up job.' I think the robber and Andy were confederates, and that
the whole thing was cut and dried, that the man should make the
attack, and Andy should appear and frighten him away, for the sake of
a reward which I dare say the two have shared together. This is what I
think about the matter. I haven't said so to your father, because he
is so infatuated with the Irish boy that it would only make him angry,
but I have no doubt that you will agree with me. [It may be said here
that Godfrey eagerly adopted his mother's view, and was equally
provoked at his father's liberality to his young enemy.] Your father
says he won't give you the ten dollars you asked for. He can lavish a
hundred dollars on Andy, but he has no money to give his own son. But
sooner or later that boy will be come up with--sooner or later he will
show himself in his true colors, and your father will be obliged to
confess that he has been deceived. It puts me out of patience when I
think of him.

"We shall expect you home on Friday afternoon of next week, as usual."

Andy was quite unconscious of the large space which he occupied in the
thoughts of Mrs. Preston and Godfrey, and of the extent to which he
troubled them. He went on, trying to do his duty, and succeeding fully
in satisfying the Misses Grant, who had come to feel a strong interest
in his welfare.

Three weeks later, Sophia Grant, who had been to the village store on
an errand, returned home, looking greatly alarmed.

"What is the matter, Sophia?" asked her sister. "You look as if you
had seen a ghost."

"Just so, Priscilla," she said; "no, I don't mean that, but we may all
be ghosts in a short time."

"What do you mean?"

"Smallpox is in town!"

"Who's got it?"

"Colonel Preston; and his wife won't stay in the house. She is packing
up to go off, and I expect the poor man'll die all by himself, unless
somebody goes and takes care of him, and then it'll spread, and we'll
all die of it."

This was certainly startling intelligence. Andy pitied the colonel,
who had always treated him well. It occurred to him that his mother
had passed through an attack of smallpox in her youth, and could take