two kinds of
pie followed.

It was hard to tell which of the two boys did fuller justice to the
meal. Nat had the usual appetite of a healthy farm boy, and Carl, in
spite of his recent anxieties, and narrow escape from serious peril, did
not allow himself to fall behind.

"Your mother's a fine cook!" said Carl, between two mouthfuls.

"Ain't she, though?" answered Nat, his mouth full of pie.

When Carl rose from the table he feared that he had eaten more than his
little stock of money would pay for.

"How much will it be, Mrs. Sweetser?" he asked.

"Oh, you're quite welcome to all you've had," said the good woman,
cheerily. "It's plain farmer's fare."

"I never tasted a better dinner," said Carl.

Mrs. Sweetser seemed pleased with the compliment to her cooking.

"Come again when you are passing this way," she said. "You will always
be welcome to a dinner."

Carl thanked her heartily, and pressed on his way. Two hours later, at
a lonely point of the road, an ill-looking tramp, who had been reclining
by the wayside, jumped up, and addressed him in a menacing tone:

"Young feller, shell over all the money you have got, or I'll hurt you!
I'm hard up, and I won't stand no nonsense."

Carl started and looked into the face of the tramp. It seemed to him
that he had never seen a man more ill-favored, or villainous-looking.

CHAPTER XI.

THE ARCHERY PRIZE.

Situated as he was, it seemed, on second thought, rather a joke to Carl
to be attacked by a robber. He had but twenty-five cents in good money
about him, and that he had just picked up by the merest chance.

"Do I look like a banker?" he asked, humorously. "Why do you want to rob
a boy?"

"The way you're togged out, you must have something," growled the tramp,
"and I haven't got a penny."

"Your business doesn't seem to pay, then?"

"Don't you make fun of me, or I'll wring your neck! Just hand over your
money and be quick about it! I haven't time to stand fooling here all
day."

A bright idea came to Carl. He couldn't spare the silver coin, which
constituted all his available wealth, but he still had the counterfeit
note.

"You won't take all my money, will you?" he said, earnestly.

"How much have you got?" asked the tramp, pricking up his ears.

Carl, with apparent reluctance, drew out the ten-dollar bill.

The tramp's face lighted up.

"Is your name Vanderbilt?" he asked. "I didn't expect to make such a
haul."

"Can't you give me b