He sprang from the wagon he was driving, and before the vagabond was fully sensible of his danger he had him by the coat collar.

“What are you about?” he demanded, giving him a rough shake.

The tramp, turning, found he was in the hands of a man whom he was compelled to respect.  He cared nothing for rank or learning, but physical force held him in awe.

He stood mute, unprepared, with an excuse.

“Why, it’s you, Andy!” said the blacksmith.  “Why did this rascal stop you?”

“He wants me to give him money.  I’ve just been to the bank in Benton to draw out some for Mr. Gale at the hotel.”

“Why, you scoundrel!” exclaimed the indignant blacksmith, shaking the tramp till his teeth chattered.  “So you’re a thief, are you?”

“Let me go!” whined the tramp.  “I haven’t taken anything.  I’m a poor, unfortunate man.  If I could get any work to do I wouldn’t have been driven to this.”

“No doubt you’re a church member,” said the blacksmith, in a sarcastic tone.

“Let me go!  I’ll promise to lead a good life.  This young man says he’ll give me two dollars.  I’ll take it and go.”

“Don’t give him a cent, Andy.  You can go, but I’ll give you something to remember me by.”

He gave the tramp a vigorous kick that nearly prostrated him, and then, getting into his wagon, said: 

“I’ll keep along with you, Andy.  I don’t think you’ll have any more trouble.”

The tramp slunk into the woods, baffled and disappointed.  If looks could have annihilated the sturdy blacksmith, his span of life would have been brief.

CHAPTER IX.

Conrad’s scheme.

When Andy told Mr. Gale the story of his adventures on the trip to Benton, he received cordial congratulations on his courage.

“You have shown a great deal of pluck, Andy,” he said.  “The next time you have occasion to go over to the bank for me I will accompany you.  Now, if you are not too tired, I want you to go down to the pond.  I have something to show you.”

They walked side by side till they reached the pond.

Andy’s curiosity was not specially excited.  He talked with Mr. Gale on different topics, and had hardly time to consider what it was he was to see.  But when he reached the boathouse he saw floating at the small pier an elegant rowboat, built of cedar, and much handsomer than either Conrad’s or Valentine’s.

“Oh, what a beauty!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” said Mr. Gale, quietly; “you will have quite the best boat on the pond.”

“I?” exclaimed Andy, in surprise.

“Yes, for the boat is yours.”

“But I don’t understand,” stammered Andy.

“It is plain enough,” said Walter Gale, with a pleasant smile.  “The boat is yours.  I give it to you.”

“How can I thank you?” exclaimed Andy, grasping his friend’s hand.  “I can’t believe that this beautiful boat is mine.”