ol and self-possessed. To carry out his threat the tramp
would have to let go of the bridle, and in that case Andy determined to
put his horse to his paces.

The tramp relaxed his hold and the horse stood stock-still, finding his
attempt to get away futile.

"Well," said the tramp, "you didn't make much by that move, did you?"

"Did you make any more?"

"By Jove! you're a cool kid. But, after all, you're only a kid. Now, do
as I tell you."

"What is that?"

"Put your hand in your pocket and take out fifty dollars. You've got as
much, haven't you?"

"Yes."

"That's right. Speak the truth. You may have more, but fifty'll do me."

"Do you expect me to give you fifty dollars?"

"Yes, I do."

"I don't mean to do it."

Andy had satisfied himself that the tramp had no weapon, and this
encouraged him. He could not hold the horse and attack him at one and
the same time, but with a revolver he would have been at his mercy.

Besides, Andy's ears were keen, and he thought he heard the sound of
wheels behind him. The tramp's attention was too much occupied, and
perhaps his hearing was too dull to catch the sounds, as yet faint.

Thus it was that the other team was almost upon them before the tramp
was aware of it. The newcomer was Saul Wheelock, a blacksmith, a strong,
powerful man, fully six feet in height, and with muscles of steel.

He had seen the buggy standing still on the highway, and he could not
understand the cause until he got near enough to see the tramp at the
horse's head.

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 black