in my power, father," I said.

"Then," he replied, quietly, "I want you to promise me that you will
never rest until you get back your own. Never rest until you are back at
Pennington as master and owner. You have been robbed, my son. I have
tried to get your rights and have failed, but you must not fail."

"No, father, I will not fail," I replied. "I will never rest until I
have got back Pennington."

"And never trust a Tresidder, Jasper; they are all as deep as the
bottomless pit, and as cruel as the fiend who rules there."

"I hear, father," was my reply, "and you shall be obeyed."

This was in the month of July, in the year 1737, when I was nineteen
years of age.

What I have to tell is how I tried to get back my home, of the battles
I had to fight, of the love which came into my heart, of many mysteries
which I cannot explain, and of the strange experiences through which I
passed in seeking to obey my father's will.

Whether I shall be believed or no I cannot tell, but I will tell only
the truth, strange as it may all seem. Moreover, let God be the judge
whether my quarrel with the Tresidders was not a just one, and whether I
did not fight fairly, as every honest man should.

CHAPTER II

TELLS HOW I, JASPER PENNINGTON, TRIED TO GET MY OWN

I do not think I have as yet mentioned it, but Richard Tresidder--I mean
the man who entered into my father's possessions--had three sons and one
daughter, and each of these was brought up with the thought that I was
their natural enemy. Of course, they were informed that my grandfather's
will provided the means whereby I, if I were sufficiently fortunate,
could buy back the estate at half its valued worth. And they were in
constant suspense about it. If I were to marry a rich wife it could be
done; if I were to have some stroke of fortune their home might be taken
from them, they having only a given sum of money. And thus it was to
their interest to keep me poor, as well as to damage my reputation in
the neighbourhood.

The eldest son was a year or more older than I, and was, of course,
respected as the heir to the Pennington lands, for it is strange how
people's sympathies veer around on the side of the people who are in
power. My father has told me many times how, when he was thought to be
the prospective heir of Pennington, people could not make enough of him,
while Richard Tresidder had but scant courtesy paid him. When it became
known that my father wa