"Poor Uncle Job—he'll be in a hole again," murmured Ben. "Evidently he wrote this right after I sent word Braxton Bogg was caught, and he doesn't know anything of my being shot and getting over it, and of Benedicto Lupez skipping out with what Bogg stole. Hang the luck, but everything seems to be going wrong." And Ben grated his teeth, in a mood hard to explain.
"What's up, Ben?" The question came from Gilbert, who had just come up to watch the young captain, in considerable surprise.
Ben showed the two communications. "I'm just thinking of what I had best write to my Uncle Job," he returned. "I'm afraid it will break the old fellow's heart to learn that the money is gone—and after he is trying to turn over a new leaf, too."
"And the news about Larry will cause him pain, too, I reckon."
"No doubt, but—but—well, between you and me, Gilbert, I'm afraid the money will hurt the worst—Uncle Job always did set such a store by a few dollars. As for me, I'd give all I'll ever be worth if only I knew Larry was safe," concluded the young captain, arising from a seat under a
