ally
deceived--so far, at least, as to question the correctness of his
former impressions of his uncle. Nevertheless, he could not help
calling to mind that this man, fairly as he now spoke, had in all
probability conspired against him, dooming him to privation and penury
for nearly ten years, while he and his son had been living luxuriously.
On the whole, his uncle was a puzzle to him. He exhibited such a
contrariety of character and disposition, that he knew not to what
decision it would be right to come respecting it.

"I am going to avoid the village, Gilbert," said his uncle, "and drive
you along a very charming road, or rather cart-path, threading the
woods. The trees are now looking very beautiful with their changing
foliage, and I think you will like it better than the ordinary road."

"You are right, sir, I should," answered Gilbert.

"It will give you an idea of our Western forests. I suppose you are
only familiar with those in the East?"

"I am not familiar with any. I have always lived in the city--first in
New York, and afterward in Cincinnati."

Gilbert would have mentioned his residence in Australia, but he thought
that the reference to it might be construed by his uncle into a tacit
reproach, and therefore forbore.

They turned from the main road into one not much frequented, and
speedily entered the forest. Not a suspicion of his uncle's bad faith,
or of any conspiracy against himself, entered the mind of our hero. He
had not yet fathomed the depth of his uncle's wickedness.

"Jasper never cares to ride in this direction," said Mr. Grey. "He has
no love for Nature."

"He has told me that he would rather live in the city."

"Yes, he would; but I am attached to the country. I suppose when he
grows older that he will insist upon leaving me. That will leave me
indeed solitary."

They kept on till they were in the heart of the woods. As Mr. Grey had
said, the road was now but a cart-path, bordered on either side by
tall, straight trees. Suddenly, from a covert of underbrush, a ruffian
sprang out, and seized the horse by the bridle.

CHAPTER XXXV.

HOW GILBERT IS DISPOSED OF.

"What do you want, fellow?" demanded James Grey, sternly, in order to
keep up appearances, for he recognized his confederate. "Let go that
bridle."

"I want money," said Hugh Trimble, for, of course it was he.

"Is this the fashion in which you ask it?" said Mr. Grey. "Let go my
bridle, and come round to my h