“Sir, I hope you don’t mean to insult me!” blustered Wheeler.

“Not at all.  You have been mistaken in me, but I am not mistaken in you.  I judge you to be a gentlemanly adventurer, ready to take advantage of any who have money and are foolish enough to be gulled by your tricks.  You are welcome to the profit you made out of the theater tickets, also to the little supper to which you have done so much justice.  I must request you, now, however, to devote yourself to some one else, as I do not care to meet you again.”

Louis Wheeler slunk away, deciding that he had made a great mistake in setting down his Montana acquaintance as an easy victim.

“I didn’t think he’d get on to my little game so quick,” he reflected.  “He’s sharper than he looks.”

Rodney took breakfast with Mr. Pettigrew the next morning.  When breakfast was over, the Montana man said: 

“I’m going to make a proposal to you, Rodney.  How much pay did you get at your last place?”

“Seven dollars a week.”

“I’ll pay you that and give you your meals.  In return I want you to keep me company and go about with me.”

“I shall not be apt to refuse such an offer as that, Mr. Pettigrew, but are you sure you prefer me to Mr. Wheeler?” laughed Rodney.

“Wheeler be—­blessed!” returned the miner.

“How long are you going to stay in New York?”

“About two weeks.  Then I shall go back to Montana and take you with me.”

“Thank you.  There is nothing I should like better.”

Two days later, as the two were walking along Broadway, they met Mr. Wheeler.  The latter instantly recognized his friend from Montana, and scrutinized closely his young companion.

Rodney’s face looked strangely familiar to him, but somehow he could not recollect when or under what circumstances he had met him.  He did not, however, like to give up his intended victim, but had the effrontery to address the man from Montana.

“I hope you are well, Mr. Pettigrew.”

“Thank you, I am very well.”

“I hope you are enjoying yourself.  I should be glad to show you the sights.  Have you been to Grants Tomb?”

“Not yet.”

“I should like to take you there.”

“Thank you, but I have a competent guide.”

“Won’t you introduce me to the young gentleman?”

“I don’t require any introduction to you, Mr. Wheeler,” said Rodney.

“Where have I met you before?” asked Wheeler abruptly.

“In the cars.  I had a box of jewelry with me,” answered Rodney significantly.

Louis Wheeler changed color.  Now he remembered Rodney, and he was satisfied that he owed to him the coolness with which the Western man had treated him.

“I remember you had,” he said spitefully, “but I don’t know how you came by it.”

“It isn’t necessary that you should know.  I remember I had considerable difficulty in getting it out of your hands.”