that Bob determined to speak to his father and tell him what he proposed to do.

Mr. George Somers was, fortunately, one of those men who, in spite of a few gray hairs and increasing girth, still remember what it is to be young. He therefore was in full sympathy with his son's plans, and encouraged them whenever he could. In the present instance, the idea of the club and its object pleased him, particularly as he knew that Bob's associates were of the right character. More than once, he had suggested that it would be just as well for him to have little to do with Nat Wingate, though Bob was left entirely to his own discretion in the matter.

The residence of Mr. Parsons Wingate was situated in the northern end of Kingswood. Nat, his nephew, being an orphan, had dwelt with him for many years, and perhaps, just for that reason, the boy's character and actions should be viewed in a charitable light. Mr. Parsons Wingate was a man of perhaps fifty, tall and slender, with a smooth, suave manner and agreeable voice. Many of those who had dealings with him were given cause to regret it, for Mr. Wingate was sharp and not unduly particular as to his business methods. Some years before, he had interested Mr. Somers in a certain venture, and since that time the gentlemen, whenever they met, acknowledged each other's salutations in a cold and formal manner.

Nat Wingate and Bob Somers were classmates in the Kingswood High School, and generally divided the honors between them. For some unknown reason, the former seemed to harbor a most unreasonable animosity toward his rival, and frequently took pains to give vent to it by both words and actions. As is usually the case, he had his adherents, who were glad to stir up trouble, and it was only due to Bob's good nature and coolness that many clashes were averted. Altogether, Nat and his followers managed to make more trouble in the school and town than all the rest of the boys put together.

During the latter part of the school term just closed, Nat, for some reason, had been quite friendly, and Bob Somers was more than willing to forget their differences. But in view of Nat's past conduct and hasty temper, he thought it best that the latter should not be included among the members of the Rambler Club. Several nights after their first meeting, Bob Somers' father received a letter which interested him greatly. Some three hundred miles away, in a desolate region, far from any centre of population, lay a tract of land in the northern part of Michigan, which had come to him as an inheritance from a distant relative. Never having regarded the property as of special value, he had left 

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