The old man now relapsed into silence.  He seemed to be thinking, deeply.  Suddenly he started up and exclaimed: 

“It must be nearly time for Sydney to be here.  Won’t you go outside and watch for him?”

Roy was very glad to leave the miser.  He realized that perhaps it was wrong for him to feel that way, but then, believing him to be a little unbalanced, it was but natural that he should be sensible of some constraint in his presence.

“I wonder if be has got $500,000 put away somewhere?” he asked himself when he reached the little portico.  “He talked exactly as if he was going to give it to me.  I suppose for what I did for him on the bridge.  That would be just like a story episode, so much like one that there’s no chance of its coming true.  But what would Rex say if it did?  Ah, here comes Syd.”

Roy left the porch and hurried out to the gate to meet the fellow who had been nearer and dearer to him than a brother as far back as he could remember.

“Poor old chap,” he said as they met and he turned around, slipping his arm within that of the tall young lawyer, “it was a shame to make you walk all that distance in the hot sun when you must be tired out from your day in town.  But there’s a job at the end of the walk.”

“And a cheerful brother, too,” added the other.  “Poor Rex!  I saw him over at the station.  He takes it terribly to heart that he cannot go off with the Bowmans.  I wish I were rich, if only for you boys’ sakes.  But what’s this heroic deed I hear of your doing for old Mr. Tyler?  Positively, Roy, I’m proud of you.”

“Oh, the train didn’t come along for a good five minutes after I’d got him off the trestle.  You see that takes a good deal of the ’heroic rescue’ business out of the thing.  But come on inside.  He’s been quite anxious to see you.  I’ve made him lie down, for I think he’s in a very bad way.”

CHAPTER III

 Mr. Tyler’s will

“Is that you, Sydney Pell?” called out Mr. Tyler as soon as he heard footsteps in the hallway.

“Yes, Mr. Tyler, What can I do for you?” and Sydney followed Roy into the bedroom.

“You can make my will,” replied the old man promptly.  “That doesn’t mean that I am going to die right away,” he added hastily, “but I’ve had a warning.  Why, I may have time to make two or three wills before I give up the ship.”

He laughed hoarsely and started to get up.  But he was weaker than he supposed, and fell back on the bed with a little gasp just as he had done out by the trestle.

“Don’t exert yourself too much, Mr. Tyler,” said Sydney.  “I can fix the thing up for you while you are lying right here.  I think I saw a bottle of ink and some paper in the other room.  Roy can help me bring in that table that stands there, and then I can take down whatever you wish and you can sign it.  But you will want witnesses.”