one bad.

"I'm sure you will see the thing the way I do, if you are a
reasonable man, as I have no reason to doubt you are; and so
I remain yours to command, NATHAN BADGER.

"To MR. CHARLES WALDO."

Robert could hardly express his excitement and indignation when he was
reading this letter. He felt sure that this poor boy, who was so cruelly
treated, was the unfortunate son of his friend, the hermit, who ought to
be enjoying the comforts of a luxurious home. As it was, he was the
victim of a cruel and unscrupulous relative, influenced by the most
mercenary motives.

"I will be his friend," Robert resolved, "and if I can I will restore
him to his father."

He looked for the date of the letter and found it. It had been written
in the town of Dexter, in Ohio. Where this town was Robert did not know,
but he could find out.

"I won't wait for Mr. Waldo," he said to himself. "I know all I need to.
I will start for Ohio to-morrow."

As for the letter, he resolved to keep it, as it might turn out to be
important evidence in case of need.

He could not understand how Mr. Waldo could be careless enough to mislay
so important a document, but this did not concern him. It was his
business to profit by it.

CHAPTER XXVII

THE BOUND BOY

The town of Dexter was almost entirely agricultural. Its population was
small and scattered. There were no large shops or manufactories to draw
people to the place. Many of the farmers were well to do, carrying on
agricultural operations on a considerable scale.

Among the smaller farmers was Nathan Badger. He was fond of money, but
knew no better way to get it than to live meanly, drive hard bargains
and spend as little as possible. In this way, though not a very good
farmer, he was able to lay by a couple of hundred dollars a year, which
he put away in the County Savings Bank.

Mrs. Badger was a fitting wife for such a man. She was about as mean as
he was, with scarcely any of the traits that make women attractive. She
had one, however--an indulgent love of her only child, Andrew Jackson
Badger, who was about as disagreeable a cub as can well be imagined. Yet
I am not sure that Andrew was wholly responsible for his ugliness, as
most of his bad traits came to him by inheritance from the admirable
pair whom he called father and mother.

Andrew Jackson Badger was by no means a youthful Apollo. To speak more
plainly, he was no beauty. A tow head and freckled f