The Young Bank Messenger Part 26

"There are other rooms, are there not?"

"Yes, but this is my private apartment; my parlor, you may call it.

This is my sleeping-room."

He drew aside the hangings on the further side and revealed an inner chamber, of less size.

On a bed Ernest's attention was drawn to the figure of a sleeping boy evidently the original of the picture which the outlaw had shown him.

"That is your son?" asked Ernest.

"Yes, that is Frank."

The outlaw's stern countenance softened as he regarded the sleeping boy.

Suddenly the boy stirred; he opened his eyes, and when he recognized his father a glad smile lighted up his innocent face.

"Papa!" he said, and James Fox bent over and kissed him.

CHAPTER XVII.

IN THE ROBBER'S CAVE.

After kissing his father the young boy looked inquisitively at Ernest.

"Who is that boy, papa?" he asked.

"I have brought him here to stay with you. Shall you like to have his company?"

"Yes, papa. You know it is very lonely while you are away. What is his name?"

The outlaw looked at Ernest significantly. He took the hint and answered, "My name is Ernest Ray."

"How old are you, Ernest?" went on the boy.

"Sixteen."

"I am only ten."

"Are you ready to get up, Frank?" asked his father.

"Yes," answered the young boy briskly. "I got sleepy because I was alone. Where did papa find you, Ernest?"

"Oh, I met him outside, and he took me to ride."

James Fox looked approval of this answer.

"I am glad you came with him. You seem like a nice boy, Ernest."

"So do you, Frank."

By this time Frank had slid from the bed and put his hand in Ernest's.

"Come here," he said, "and I will show you my books."

Led by his small companion, Ernest went up to a bookcase which he had not before observed in the main room. About thirty books stood on the shelves.

"Where did you get your books?" he asked.

"Papa bought them for me in Minneapolis. Were you ever in Minneapolis?"

"No."

"It is a nice place. Sometimes I think I would like to live there instead of here."

"You are not getting tired of home, are you, Frank?" asked his father, half reproach fully.

"No, papa, but it is lonely here sometimes. Am I to live here always?"

"No, Frank. Some time I will send you to school. But you won't see me every day then."

"Then I don't want to go."

The outlaw stooped over and kissed the boy.

"Now, Frank, I have something to do, so you may amuse yourself with Ernest."

"Can you play dominos?" asked Frank.

"Yes; have you a set?"

"Yes."

The boy opened a drawer in a bureau and drew out a box of dominos. He poured them out on the table and they began to play the ordinary game.

When they tired of that, Ernest taught him a new one.

After they grew tired of playing, Ernest read aloud to the boy from one of his favorite books.

They were sitting together in the arm-chair, when James Fox, who had left the room, returned. He smiled approvingly at the picture. He was pleased to think that he had found a companion whom his boy liked.

"What have you been doing, Frank?" he asked.

"He has been reading to me, papa. He reads nicely, and I liked it very much."

"I am sorry to interrupt you, but are not you young people hungry?"