One day, about two months after Mr. Anderson’s departure, Ferguson and Harry were surprised, and not altogether agreeably, by the entrance of John Clapp and Luke Harrison.  They looked far from prosperous.  In fact, both of them were decidedly seedy.  Going West had not effected an improvement in their fortunes.

“Is that you, Clapp?” asked Ferguson.  “Where did you come from?”

“From St. Louis.”

“Then you didn’t feel inclined to stay there?”

“Not I. It’s a beastly place.  I came near starving.”

Clapp would have found any place beastly where a fair day’s work was required for fair wages, and my young readers in St. Louis, therefore, need not heed his disparaging remarks.

“How was it with you, Luke?” asked Harry.  “Do you like the West no better than Clapp?”

“You don’t catch me out there again,” said Luke.  “It isn’t what it’s cracked up to be.  We had the hardest work in getting money enough to get us back.”

As Luke did not mention the kind of hard work by which the money was obtained, I may state here that an evening’s luck at the faro table had supplied them with money enough to pay the fare to Boston by railway; otherwise another year might have found them still in St. Louis.

“Hard work doesn’t suit your constitution, does it?” said Ferguson, slyly.

“I can work as well as anybody,” said Luke; “but I haven’t had the luck of some people.”

“You were lucky enough to have your fare paid to the West for you.”

“Yes, and when we got there, the rascal left us to shift for ourselves.  That aint much luck.”

“I’ve always had to shift for myself, and always expect to,” was the reply.

“Oh, you’re a model!” sneered Clapp.  “You always were as sober and steady as a deacon.  I wonder they didn’t make you one.”

“And Walton there is one of the same sort,” said Luke.  “I say, Harry, it was real mean in you not to send me the money I wrote for.  You hadn’t it, had you?”

“Yes,” said Harry, firmly; “but I worked hard for it, and I didn’t feel like giving it away.”

“Who asked you to give it away?  I only wanted to borrow it.”

“That’s the same thing—­with you.  You were not likely to repay it again.”

“Do you mean to insult me?” blustered Luke.

“No, I never insult anybody.  I only tell the truth.  You know, Luke Harrison, whether I have reason for what I say.”

“I wouldn’t leave a friend to suffer when I had plenty of money in my pocket,” said Luke, with an injured air.  “If you had been a different sort of fellow I would have asked you for five dollars to keep me along till I can get work.  I’ve come back with empty pockets.”

“I’ll lend you five dollars if you need it,” said Harry, who judged from Luke’s appearance that he told the truth.

“Will you?” said Luke, brightening up.  “That’s a good fellow.  I’ll pay you just as soon as I can.”