“You want more?” ejaculated the squire.

“Yes; I want a thousand-dollar government bond.  It’s cheap enough for such a secret.”

“But I haven’t any bonds.”

“You can find me one,” said Tony, emphatically, “or I’ll tell what I know to the directors.  You see, I know more than that.”

“What do you know?” asked Duncan, terrified.

“I know that you disposed of a part of the bonds on Wall Street, to Sharp & Ketchum.  I stood outside when you were up in their office.”

Great beads of perspiration gathered upon the banker’s brow.  This blow was wholly unexpected, and he was wholly unprepared for it.  He made a feeble resistance, but in the end, when Tony Denton left the house he had a thousand-dollar bond carefully stowed away in an inside pocket, and Squire Duncan was in such a state of mental collapse that he left his supper untasted.

Randolph was very much surprised when he learned that his father had paid his bill at the billiard saloon, and still more surprised that the squire made very little fuss about it.

CHAPTER XXXII

ON THE WAY TO THE BLACK HILLS

Just before Luke started for the Black Hills, he received the following letter from his faithful friend Linton.  It was sent to New York to the care of Mr. Reed, and forwarded, it not being considered prudent to have it known at Groveton where he was.

“Dear Luke,” the letter commenced, “it seems a long time since I have seen you, and I can truly say that I miss you more than I would any other boy in Groveton.  I wonder where you are—­your mother does not seem to know.  She only knows you are traveling for Mr. Reed.

“There is not much news.  Groveton, you know, is a quiet place.  I see Randolph every day.  He seems very curious to know where you are.  I think he is disturbed because you have found employment elsewhere.  He professes to think that you are selling newspapers in New York, or tending a peanut stand, adding kindly that it is all you are fit for.  I have heard a rumor that he was often to be seen playing billiards at Tony Denton’s, but I don’t know whether it is true.  I sometimes think it would do him good to become a poor boy and have to work for a living.

“We are going to Orchard Beach next summer, as usual, and in the fall mamma may take me to Europe to stay a year to learn the French language.  Won’t that be fine?  I wish you could go with me, but I am afraid you can’t sell papers or peanuts enough—­which is it?—­to pay expenses.  How long are you going to be away?  I shall be glad to see you back, and so will Florence Grant, and all your other friends, of whom you have many in Groveton.  Write soon to your affectionate friend,

“Linton.”

This letter quite cheered up Luke, who, in his first absence from home, naturally felt a little lonely at times.