“I don’t think we have such people about here, Uncle Jed.”

“I hope not, but you can’t be too careful; I’ve been robbed myself when I hadn’t any more thought of it than that boy there.”

Had Tom Gordon been a few years older or younger he would have acted differently; that is to say he would have returned home without delay.  But he did not wish to appear frightened by the words of the old gentleman; and, though he was eager to hurry home to his mother and aunt with the good news, he remained talking with his friends and trying to act as though he had forgotten about his great fortune, until the long summer day ended and twilight began closing in.  Then when he started, he looked around to see whether any one was going in the same direction.  He would have been glad of company, but it so happened that he set out alone in the gathering gloom to walk the mile that must be passed before he could reach his home.

“I wish Uncle Jed hadn’t said what he did,” he mused, when fairly beyond the town, “it makes me feel kind of pokerish; why didn’t I think to bring my gun along?  If the folks he talks about would rob our house they would stop me on the road and take the money from me.”

He walked faster as the darkness increased, for the moon would not rise for some time to come, glanced often behind him, and essayed a timid whistle.  He soon ceased this, however, for it only increased his uneasiness.  Every minute or two he pressed one of his hands against his breast to make sure the precious package was there.  Then he glanced back again in the gloom, and started when he fancied he saw a man following him.  But it was only fancy, and he increased his pace, wondering why the mile seemed longer than he had ever known it before.

The rattle of a wagon caused him almost to leap from his feet.

“That’s lucky!” he exclaimed; “I will get the man to let me ride, and then no one will dare disturb me.”

But it proved that the wagon was coming from the direction of his home, so it could not be turned to account.  He watched it as it came nearer.  An old gentleman sat on the front seat of the open vehicle which was jolting along at an easy rate.  It was too dark to see the driver’s features plainly, but Tom believed he knew him and called out a greeting.  The response showed he was right as to the identity of the individual.

Two-thirds of the way home came the most trying ordeal.  The lad was obliged to follow quite a stretch of road where there was woods on both sides.  This deepened the gloom, for the highway was so narrow that it was completely shadowed.

“If any robbers are waiting for me,” he mused, “it will be in them woods.”

He hesitated on the border of the shadows, meditating whether he could not reach home by some other course; but the forest, originally one that covered several hundred acres, was bisected by the highway, and the detour would be long.  Still he decided to try it, for, somehow or other, the conviction was strong with him that danger lurked among the shadows.  He turned about to retrace his steps for a short way, before leaving the road, when he stopped short, hardly repressing a gasp of affright.