T HE village lay farther up on the hill. Oliver and his companion followed the road, looking about them enquiringly.

"Suppose you find this man, what will you do?" asked Oliver curiously.

He had an idea that Nicholas Bundy might pull out a revolver and lay his old enemy dead at his feet. This, in a law-abiding community, might entail uncomfortable consequences, and he might be deprived of his new friend almost as soon as the friendship had begun.

"I will punish him," said Nicholas, his brow contracting into a frown.

"You won\'t shoot him?"

"No. I shall bide my time, and consider how best to ruin him. If he is rich, I will strip him of his wealth; if he is respected and honored, I will bring a stain upon his name. I will do for him what he has done for me."

The provincialisms which at times disfigured his speech were dropped as he spoke of his enemy, and his face grew hard and his expression unrelenting.

"How he must hate this man!" thought Oliver.

They stepped into a grocery store on the way, and here Mr. Bundy enquired for Rupert Jones.

"Do you know any such man?" he asked.

"Oh, yes; he trades here."

Nicholas Bundy\'s face lighted up with joy.

"Is he a friend of yours?"

"No," he replied hastily. "But I want to see him; that is, if he is the man I mean. Will you describe him?"

The grocer paused, and then said:

"Well, he is about thirty-five years old, and――"

"Only thirty-five?" repeated Nicholas in deep disappointment.

"I don\'t think he can be any more. He has a young wife."

"Is he tall or short?"

"Quite tall."

"Then it is not the man I mean," said Bundy. "Oliver, come."

As they left the store he said:

"I thought it was too good news to be true. I must search for him longer; but I have nothing else to do. There are many Joneses in the world."

"Yes, but Rupert Jones is not a common name," said Oliver.

"You say right, boy, Rupert is not a common name. That is what encourages me. Well, shall we go back?"

"I think as we are over here we may as well stay a while," said Oliver. "The day is pleasant and we can look upon it as an excursion."

"Just as you say, Oliver. There is no more to be done to-day. Have you never been here before?"

"No."

"I used to come over when I was a clerk. I often engaged a boat at the Battery and rowed down here myself."

"That must have been pleasant."

"If you like rowing we can go back to the ferry pier and engage a boat for an hour."

"I should like that very much."

"I shall like it also. It is long since I did anything at rowing."

They engaged a stout row-boat, and rowed out half a mile from shore. Oliver knew something about rowing, as there was a pond in his native village, where he had obtained some practice, generally with Frank Dudley. What was his surprise when bending over the oar to hear his name called. Looking up, he recognized Frank and Carrie Dudley and their father.

"Why, it\'s Oliver!" exclaimed Frank joyfully. "Where have you come from, Oliver?"

"From the shore."

"I mean, how do you happen to be here?"

"Only an excursion, Frank. What brings you here? And Carrie, too. I hope you are well, Carrie."

"All the better for meeting you, Oliver," said Carrie, smiling and blushing. "I have been missing you very much."

Oliver was pleased to hear this. What boy would not be pleased to hear such a confession from the lips of a pretty girl?

"I thought Roland would make up for my absence," he said slyly. "He told me when we met the other day what pleasant calls he had at your house."

"The pleasure is all on his side, then," said Carrie, tossing her head. "I hate the sight of him."

"Poor Roland! He is to be pitied!"

"You needn\'t pity him, Oliver," said Frank. "He loses no opportunity of tr............