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Contents
1. Preface ix
1. 1 Digital Systems and Binary Numbers 1
1. 1.1 Digital Systems 1
2. 1.2 Binary Numbers 4
3. 1.3 Number-Base Conversions 6
4. 1.4 Octal and Hexadecimal Numbers 9
5. 1.5 Complements of Numbers 11
6. 1.6 Signed Binary Numbers 17
7. 1.7 Binary Codes 22
8. 1.8 Binary Storage and Registers 31
9. 1.9 Binary Logic 34
2. 2 Boolean Algebra and Logic Gates 41
1. 2.1 Introduction 42
2. 2.2 Basic Definitions 42
3. 2.3 Axiomatic Definition of Boolean Algebra 43
4. 2.4 Basic Theorems and Properties of Boolean Algebra 47
5. 2.5 Boolean Functions 50
6. 2.6 Canonical and Standard Forms 56

7. 2.7 Other Logic Operations 65
8. 2.8 Digital Logic Gates 67
9. 2.9 Integrated Circuits 73
3. 3 Gate-Level Minimization 82
2. 3.2 The Map Method 83
3. 3.3 Four-Variable K-Map 90
4. 3.4 Product-of-Sums Simplification 95
5. 3.5 Don’t-Care Conditions 99
6. 3.6 NAND and NOR Implementation 102
7. 3.7 Other Two-Level Implementations 110
8. 3.8 Exclusive-OR Function 115
9. 3.9 Hardware Description Languages (HDLS) 121
10. 3.10 Truth Tables in HDLS 138
4. 4 Combinational Logic 147
2. 4.2 Combinational Circuits 148
3. 4.3 Analysis of Combinational Circuits 149
4. 4.4 Design Procedure 153
5. 4.5 Binary Adder–Subtractor 156

6. 4.6 Decimal Adder 168
7. 4.7 Binary Multiplier 170
8. 4.8 Magnitude Comparator 172
9. 4.9 Decoders 175
10. 4.10 Encoders 179
11. 4.11 Multiplexers 182
12. 4.12 HDL Models of Combinational Circuits 189
13. 4.13 Behavioral Modeling 215
14. 4.14 Writing a Simple Testbench 223
15. 4.15 Logic Simulation 229
5. 5 Synchronous Sequential Logic 245
2. 5.2 Sequential Circuits 246
3. 5.3 Storage Elements: Latches 248
4. 5.4 Storage Elements: Flip-Flops 253
5. 5.5 Analysis of Clocked Sequential Circuits 261
6. 5.6 Synthesizable HDL Models of Sequential Circuits 275
7. 5.7 State Reduction and Assignment 300
8. 5.8 Design Procedure 305
6. 6 Registers and Counters 326

1. 6.1 Registers 326
2. 6.2 Shift Registers 330
3. 6.3 Ripple Counters 338
4. 6.4 Synchronous Counters 343
5. 6.5 Other Counters 351
6. 6.6 HDL Models of Registers and Counters 356
7. 7 Memory and Programmable Logic 377
2. 7.2 Random-Access Memory 379
3. 7.3 Memory Decoding 386
4. 7.4 Error Detection and Correction 391
5. 7.5 Read-Only Memory 394
6. 7.6 Programmable Logic Array 400
7. 7.7 Programmable Array Logic 404
8. 7.8 Sequential Programmable Devices 408
8. 8 Design at the Register Transfer Level 429
2. 8.2 Register Transfer Level (RTL) Notation 430
3. 8.3 RTL Descriptions 432
4. 8.4 Algorithmic State Machines (ASMs) 450

5. 8.5 Design Example (ASMD CHART) 459
6. 8.6 HDL Description of Design Example 469
7. 8.7 Sequential Binary Multiplier 487
8. 8.8 Control Logic 492
9. 8.9 HDL Description of Binary Multiplier 498
10. 8.10 Design with Multiplexers 513
11. 8.11 Race-Free Design (Software Race Conditions) 529
12. 8.12 Latch-Free Design (Why Waste Silicon?) 532
13. 8.13 SystemVerilog—An Introduction 533
9. 9 Laboratory Experiments with Standard ICs and FPGAs 555
1. 9.1 Introduction to Experiments 555
2. 9.2 Experiment 1: Binary and Decimal Numbers 560
3. 9.3 Experiment 2: Digital Logic Gates 563
4. 9.4 Experiment 3: Simplification of Boolean Functions 565
5. 9.5 Experiment 4: Combinational Circuits 567
6. 9.6 Experiment 5: Code Converters 568
7. 9.7 Experiment 6: Design with Multiplexers 570
8. 9.8 Experiment 7: Adders and Subtractors 572
9. 9.9 Experiment 8: Flip-Flops 575
10. 9.10 Experiment 9: Sequential Circuits 577

11. 9.11 Experiment 10: Counters 579
12. 9.12 Experiment 11: Shift Registers 580
13. 9.13 Experiment 12: Serial Addition 584
14. 9.14 Experiment 13: Memory Unit 585
15. 9.15 Experiment 14: Lamp Handball 587
16. 9.16 Experiment 15: Clock-Pulse Generator 591
17. 9.17 Experiment 16: Parallel Adder and Accumulator 593
18. 9.18 Experiment 17: Binary Multiplier 595
19. 9.19 HDL Simulation Experiments and Rapid Prototyping with
FPGAs 599
10. 10 Standard Graphic Symbols 605
1. 10.1 Rectangular-Shape Symbols 605
2. 10.2 Qualifying Symbols 608
3. 10.3 Dependency Notation 610
4. 10.4 Symbols for Combinational Elements 612
5. 10.5 Symbols for Flip-Flops 614
6. 10.6 Symbols for Registers 616
7. 10.7 Symbols for Counters 619
8. 10.8 Symbol for RAM 621
1. Appendix 624
2. Answers to Selected Problems 638

Preface
The speed, density, and complexity of today’s digital devices are made
possible by advances in physical processing technology and digital design
methodology. Aside from semiconductor technology, the design of leading-
edge devices depends critically on hardware description languages (HDLs)
and synthesis tools. Three public-domain languages, Verilog, VHDL, and
SystemVerilog, all play a role in design flows for today’s digital devices.
HDLs, together with fundamental knowledge of digital logic circuits, provide
an entry point to the world of digital design for students majoring in
computer science, computer engineering, and electrical engineering.
In the not-too-distant past, it would be unthinkable for an electrical
engineering student to graduate without having used an oscilloscope. Today,
the needs of industry demand that undergraduate students become familiar
with the use of at least one hardware description language. Their use of an
HDL as a student will better prepare them to be productive members of a
design team after they graduate.
Given the presence of three HDLs in the design arena, we have expanded our
presentation of HDLs in Digital Design to treat Verilog and VHDL, and to
provide an introduction to SystemVerilog. Our intent is not to require students
to learn three, or even two, languages, but to provide the instructor with a
choice between Verilog and VHDL while teaching a systematic methodology
for design, regardless of the language, and an optional introduction to
SystemVerilog. Certainly, Verilog and VHDL are widely used and taught,
dominate the design space, and have common underlying concepts
supporting combinational and sequential logic design, and both are essential
to the synthesis of high-density integrated circuits. Our text offers parallel
tracks of presentation of both languages, but allows concentration on a
single language. The level of treatment of Verilog and VHDL is essentially
equal, without emphasizing one language over the other. A language-neutral
presentation of digital design is a common thread through the treatment
of both languages. A large set of problems, which are stated in language-
neutral terms, at the end of each chapter can be worked with either Verilog or

VHDL.
The emphasis in our presentation is on digital design, with HDLs in a
supporting role. Consequently, we present only those details of Verilog,
VHDL, and SystemVerilog that are needed to support our treatment of an
introduction to digital design. Moreover, although we present examples using
each language, we identify and segregate the treatment of topics and
examples so that the instructor can choose a path of presentation for a single
language—either Verilog or VHDL. Naturally, a path that emphasizes
Verilog can conclude with SystemVerilog, but it can be skipped without
compromising the objectives. The introduction to SystemVerilog is selective
—we present only topics and examples that are extensions of Verilog, and
well within the scope of an introductory treatment. To be clear, we are not
advocating simultaneous presentation of the languages. The instructor can
choose either Verilog/SystemVerilog or VHDL as the core language
supporting an introductory course in digital design. Regardless of the
language, our focus is on digital design.
The language-based examples throughout the book are not just about the
details of an HDL. We emphasize and demonstrate the modeling and
verification of digital circuits having specified behavior. Neither Verilog or
VHDL are covered in their entirety. Some details of the languages will be
left to the reader’s continuing education and use of web resources.
Regardless of language, our examples introduce a design methodology based
on the concept of computer-aided modeling of digital systems by means of a
mainstream, IEEE-standardized, hardware description language.
This revision of Digital Design begins each chapter with a statement of its
objectives. Problems at the end of each chapter are combined with in-chapter
examples, and with in-chapter Practice Exercises. Together, these encounters
with the subject matter bring the student closer to achieving the stated
objectives and becoming skilled in digital design. Answers are given to
selected problems at the end of each chapter. A Solution Manual gives
detailed solutions to all of the problems at the end of the chapters. The level
of detail of the solutions is such that an instructor can use individual
problems to support classroom instruction.

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MULTIMODAL LEARNING
Like the previous editions, this edition of Digital Design supports a
multimodal approach to learning. The so-called VARK1, 2 characterization
of learning modalities identifies four major modes by which we learn: (V)
visual, (A) aural (hearing), (R) reading, and (K) kinesthetic. The relatively
high level of illustrations and graphical content of our text addresses the
visual (V) component of VARK; discussions and numerous examples address
the reading (R) component. Students who exploit the availability of free
Verilog, VHDL and SystemVerilog simulators and synthesis tools to work
assignments are led through a kinesthetic learning experience, including the
delight of designing a digital circuit that actually works. The remaining
element of VARK, the aural/auditory (A) experience depends on the
instructor and the attentiveness of the student (Put away the smart phone!).
We have provided an abundance of materials and examples to support
classroom lectures. Thus, a course using Digital Design, can provide a rich,
balanced, learning experience and address all the modes identified by VARK.
1 Kolb, David A. (2015) [1984]. Experiential learning: Experience as the
source of learning and development (2nd ed.). Upper Saddle River, NJ:
Pearson Education. ISBN 9780133892406. OCLC 909815841.
2 Fleming, Neil D. (2014). “The VARK modalities”. vark-learn.com.
For skeptics who might still question the need to present and use HDLs in a
first course in digital design, we note that industry does not rely on
schematic-based design methods. Schematic entry creates a representation of
functionality that is implicit in the constructs and layout of the schematic.
Unfortunately, it is difficult for anyone in a reasonable amount of time to
determine the functionality represented by the schematic of a logic circuit
without having been instrumental in its construction, or without having
additional documentation expressing the design intent. Consequently,
industry today relies almost exclusively on HDLs to describe the
functionality of a design and to serve as a basis for documenting, simulating,
testing, and synthesizing the hardware implementation of the design in a
standard cell-based ASIC or an FPGA. The utility of a schematic depends on

the detailed documentation of a carefully constructed hierarchy of design
units. In the past, designers relied on their years of experience to create a
schematic of a circuit to implement functionality. Today’s designers using
HDLs, can express functionality directly and explicitly, without years of
accumulated experience, and use synthesis tools to generate the schematic as
a byproduct, automatically. Industry adopted HDL-based design flows
because schematic entry dooms us to inefficiency, if not failure, in
understanding and designing large, complex, ICs.
Introduction of HDLs in a first course in digital design is not intended to
replace fundamental understanding of the building blocks of such circuits, or
to eliminate a discussion of manual methods of design. It is still essential for
students to understand how hardware works. Thus, this edition of Digital
Design retains a thorough treatment of combinational and sequential logic
design and a foundation in Boolean algebra. Manual design practices are
presented, and their results are compared with those obtained using HDLs.
What we are presenting, however, is an emphasis on how hardware is
designed today, to better prepare a student for a career in today’s industry,
where HDL-based design practices are dominant.
FLEXIBILITY
We include both manual and HDL-based design examples. Our end-of-
chapter problems cross-reference problems that access a manual design task
with a companion problem that uses an HDL to accomplish the assigned task.
We also link the manual and HDL-based approaches by presenting annotated
results of simulations in the text, in answers to selected problems at the end
of the text, and extensively in the solution manual.
NEW TO THIS EDITION
This edition of Digital Design uses the latest features of IEEE Standard 1364,
but only insofar as they support our pedagogical objectives. The revisions
and updates to the text include:

Elimination of specialized circuit-level content not typically covered in a
first course in logic circuits and digital design (e.g., RTL, DTL, and
emitter-coupled logic circuits)
Addition of “Web Search Topics” at the end of each chapter to point
students to additional subject matter available on the web
Revision of approximately one-third of the problems at the end of the
chapters
A solution manual for the entire text, including all new problems
Streamlining of the discussion of Karnaugh maps
Integration of treatment of basic CMOS technology with treatment of
logic gates
Inclusion of an appendix introducing semiconductor technology
Treatment of digital design with VHDL and SystemVerilog
DESIGN METHODOLOGY
A highlight of our presentation is a systematic methodology for designing a
state machine to control the data path of a digital system. The framework in
which this material is presented treats the realistic situation in which status
signals from the datapath are used by the controller, i.e., the system has
feedback. Thus, our treatment provides a foundation for designing complex
and interactive digital systems. Although it is presented with an emphasis on
HDL-based design, the methodology is also applicable to manual-based
approaches to design and is language-neutral.
JUST ENOUGH HDL
We present only those elements of Verilog, VHDL, and SystemVerilog that

are matched to the level and scope of this text. Also, correct syntax does not
guarantee that a model meets a functional specification or that it can be
synthesized into physical hardware. So, we introduce students to a disciplined
use of industry-based practices for writing models to ensure that a behavioral
description can be synthesized into physical hardware, and that the behavior
of the synthesized circuit will match that of the behavioral description.
Failure to follow this discipline can lead to software race conditions in the
HDL models of such machines, race conditions in the test bench used to
verify them, and a mismatch between the results of simulating a behavioral
model and its synthesized physical counterpart. Similarly, failure to abide by
industry practices may lead to designs that simulate correctly, but which have
hardware latches that are introduced into the design accidentally as a
consequence of the modeling style used by the designer. The industry-based -
methodology we present leads to race-free and latch-free designs. It is
important that students learn and follow industry practices in using HDL
models, independent of whether a student’s curriculum has access to
synthesis tools.
VERIFICATION
In industry, significant effort is expended to verify that the functionality of a
circuit is correct. Yet not much attention is given to verification in
introductory texts on digital design, where the focus is on design itself, and
testing is perhaps viewed as a secondary undertaking. Our experience is that
this view can lead to premature “high-fives” and declarations that “the circuit
works beautifully.” Likewise, industry gains repeated returns on its
investment in an HDL model by ensuring that it is readable, portable, and
reusable. We demonstrate naming practices and the use of parameters to
facilitate reusability and portability. We also provide test benches for all of
the solutions and exercises to (1) verify the functionality of the circuit; (2)
underscore the importance of thorough testing; and (3) introduce students to
important concepts, such as self-checking test benches. Advocating and
illustrating the development of a test plan to guide the development of a test
bench, we introduce test plans, albeit simply, in the text and expand them in
the solutions manual and in the answers to selected problems at the end of the
text.

HDL CONTENT
We have ensured that all examples in the text and all answers in the solution
manual conform to accepted industry practices for modeling digital hardware.
As in the previous edition, HDL material is inserted in separate sections so
that it can be covered or skipped as desired, does not diminish treatment of
manual-based design, and does not dictate the sequence of presentation. The
treatment is at a level suitable for beginning students who are learning digital
circuits and an HDL at the same time. The text prepares students to work on
significant independent design projects and to succeed in a later course in
computer architecture and advanced digital design.
Instructor Resources
Instructors can obtain the following classroom-ready resources from the
publisher:
Source code and test benches for all Verilog HDL examples in the test
All figures and tables in the text
Source code for all HDL models in the solutions manual
A downloadable solutions manual with graphics suitable for classroom
presentation
HDL Simulators
Two free simulators can be downloaded from www.Syncad.com. The first
simulator is VeriLogger Pro, a traditional Verilog simulator that can be used
to simulate the HDL examples in the book and to verify the solutions of HDL
problems. This simulator accepts the syntax of the IEEE-1995 standard and
will be useful to those who have legacy models. As an interactive simulator,
VeriLogger Extreme accepts the syntax of IEEE-2001 as well as IEEE-1995,

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CHAPTER VIII.
MR. STARR’S INVOLUNTARY RIDE.
The farmhouse of Mr. Joshua Starr was situated about a mile from the
village. It was a dilapidated old building, standing very much in need of
paint and repairs, but the owner felt too poor to provide either.
Mr. Starr had never married. From early manhood to the age of sixty-
nine he had lived in the same old house, using the same furniture, part of
the time cooking for himself.
At one time he employed a young girl of fourteen, whom he had taken
from the poorhouse to do his household work. She was not an accomplished
cook, but that was unnecessary, for Mr. Starr had never desired a liberal
table. She could cook well enough to suit him, but he finally dismissed her
for two reasons. First, he begrudged paying her seventy-five cents a week,
which he had agreed with the selectmen to do, in order to give the girl the
means of supplying herself with decent clothes; and, secondly, he was
appalled by her appetite, which, though no greater than might be expected
of a growing girl, seemed to him enormous.
At the time of which we speak, Mr. Starr was living alone. He had to
employ some help outside, but in the house he took care of himself.
It was certainly a miserable way of living for a man who, besides his
farm, had accumulated, by dint of meanness, not far from ten thousand
dollars, in money and securities, and owned his farm clear, in addition.
Andy went up to the front door, and used the old brass knocker
vigorously, but there was no response.
“I suppose Mr. Starr is somewhere about the place,” he said to himself,
and bent his steps toward the barn.
There he found the man of whom he was in search.
Joshua Starr was attired in a much-patched suit, which might have been
new thirty years before. Certainly he did not set the rising generation a
wasteful example in the matter of dress.

The old man espied Andy just before he got within hearing distance, and
guessed his errand.
“Howdy do, Andy Gordon?” he said, in a quavering voice.
“All right!” answered Andy, coolly.
If it had been anyone else, he would have added, “thank you,” but he did
not feel like being ordinarily polite to the man who was conspiring to
defraud his mother.
“I’m tollable myself,” said Joshua, though Andy had not inquired. “The
rheumatiz catches me sometimes and hurts me a sight.”
“You ought to expect it at your age,” said Andy.
“I ain’t so very old,” said Mr. Starr, uneasily.
“How old are you?”
“Sixty-nine.”
“That seems pretty old to me.”
“My father lived to be nigh on to eighty,” said Joshua. “He wa’n’t no
healthier than I be, as I know of.”
“You might live to be as old, if you would eat nourishing food.”
“So I do! Who says I don’t?”
“Nancy Gray, the girl that worked for you, says you didn’t allow
yourself enough to eat.”
“That girl!” groaned the old man. “It’s well I got red on her, or she’d
have eaten me out of house and home. She eat three times as much as I did,
and I’m a hardworking man and need more than she does.”
“I suppose you know what I’ve come to speak to you about, Mr. Starr,”
said Andy, thinking it time to come to business.
“Have you come to pay that note I hold agin’ your mother?” asked the
old man, with suppressed eagerness.
“My mother owes you nothing,” said Andy, firmly.
“You’re mistaken, Andy. She owes me a hundred dollars and interest,
and I’ve got the dockyment to prove it.”
“You know very well, Mr. Starr, that my father paid you that money long
ago.”
“When did he pay it?”

“Just before he started for the war. You needn’t ask, for you know better
than I do.”
“Yes, I do know better’n you do,” said the old man. “Ef he paid it, why
didn’t he get the note? I’d like to know that, Andy Gordon.”
“That’s easily answered. It was because you pretended you had mislaid
it, and you asked him to take a receipt instead.”
“That ain’t a very likely story, Andy. Still, ef you’ve got the receipt to
show, it may make a difference.”
“We haven’t been able to find the receipt,” said Andy.
“Of course you ain’t, and a good reason why. There never was any
receipt. You don’t expect I’d give a receipt when the note wasn’t paid.”
“No, I don’t; but we both know the note was paid.”
“Then, all I can say is you was mighty shif’less to lose it,” said the old
man, chuckling.
“An honorable man wouldn’t take advantage of such a loss, Mr. Starr.
He wouldn’t be willing to defraud a poor widow, even if he had the power
to do it.”
“You’re wandering from the p’int, Andrew. Ef the money was paid, you
can show the receipt, and then I won’t have another word to say.”
“I am afraid my father must have taken the receipt with him when he
went to the war.”
“Jes’ so—jes’ so!” chuckled Mr. Starr, his chuckle bringing on a fit of
coughing.
“What do you mean to do?” asked Andy, a little anxiously.
“Waal, I want to collect my money. A hundred dollars is a good deal of
money. I can’t afford to lose it.”
“We don’t owe it.”
“The law says you do.”
“At any rate, we can’t pay it. We have no money.”
“Ain’t your mother got her pension, Andrew?”
“Yes, she has, and she will keep it! Not a cent will you get out of it!”
“Then I’ll have to take your furniture,” said Mr. Starr, placidly.
“I believe you are the meanest man in town!” said Andy, indignantly.

“I want my own property,” said the old man, doggedly, “and you may
tell your mother so.”
While the two had been conversing, the old man, shovel in hand, had led
the way into the barnyard, where there were three cows.
One of them, unseen by Mr. Starr, being out of humor, probably, lowered
her head and, approaching the old man from behind, fairly lifted him up to a
sitting position on her head. Mechanically he grasped her horns, and in this
position was carried rapidly round the yard, much to his own dismay and
Andy’s amusement.
“Take her off, Andy!” exclaimed the frightened and bewildered old man.
“She’ll kill me!”
“If I touch her, she’ll throw you on the ground,” said Andy, between
paroxysms of laughter.
“Do somethin’ to help me, or I’m a dead man!” shrieked Joshua, clinging
tighter to the cow’s horns. “If you’ll help me, I’ll take off a dollar from the
note.”
Andy knew that the old man was in no real danger, and stood still, while
the triumphant cow ran about the yard with her terrified master between her
horns.
“Oh, dear! Will nobody help me?” howled Joshua. “Is the cow crazy?”
“I think she must be, Mr. Starr,” said Andy, gravely.
“I shall be killed, and I’m only sixty-nine!” wailed the old man, who by
this time had lost his hat.
“Shall I shoot her?” asked Andy, displaying a toy pistol, which was quite
harmless.
“No, don’t!” exclaimed the old man, turning pale. “You might hit me!
Besides, I gave thirty dollars for her. Oh, I never expected to die this way,”
he added, dismally.
But the cow was by this time tired of her burden, and, with a jerk of her
head, dislodged her proprietor, who fell prostrate in a pile of manure.
Andy ran to pick him up, and helped him into the house.
“Do you think any of my bones is broken?” asked Joshua, anxiously.
“I don’t see how they can be. You fell in a soft place,” said Andy,
wanting to laugh.

“I’ll sell that cow as quick as I get a chance,” said Joshua. “Don’t you
tell anybody what’s happened, or you may spile the sale.”
Andy tried to introduce the subject of the note again, but Joshua was too
full of the accident to talk about it. Finally, discouraged by his poor success,
he went home.
On the way he met Louis Schick, a schoolfellow, of German extraction,
who hailed him.
“You’d better go to the post office, Andy. There’s a big parcel there for
your mother.”
“A parcel?”
“Yes; it’s too big for a letter.”
Wondering what it could be, Andy went to the post office.
The parcel he found there was of great importance.

CHAPTER IX.
A GIFT FROM THE DEAD.
The village post office was located in a drug store, and the druggist had
plenty of time to attend to the duties of the office, as well as the calls of his
regular customers.
Hamilton was so healthy a village that it hardly furnished a sufficient
demand for drugs and medicines to support a man of the most moderate
tastes. But, with the addition of his salary as postmaster, Mr. Bolus was able
to maintain a small family in comfort.
“I suppose you want some pills, Andy?” said Mr. Bolus, as our hero
entered the office.
“No, sir,” answered Andy. “I hope I shan’t want any of them for a long
time to come. Louis Schick told me there was something in the office for
mother.”
“So there is—and a large parcel, too.”
He went into the post-office corner and produced a large, thick parcel,
wrapped in a long, yellow envelope.
“Here it is, Andy,” said Mr. Bolus. “I hope it’s something valuable.”
Andy took the package and looked eagerly at the address.
His mother’s name and address were on the envelope, and it seemed to
be postmarked at some town in Pennsylvania.
“Do you know anybody in the place where the package comes from?”
asked the postmaster.
“No,” answered Andy. “That is, I don’t—perhaps mother may. It feels
like a wallet,” added Andy, thoughtfully.
“So it does. I hope, for your mother’s sake, the wallet is full of money.”
“I am afraid there isn’t much chance of that,” replied Andy. “Well, I’ll go
home and carry it to mother.”
Andy put the parcel in his inside coat pocket and took the nearest way
home.

As he entered the house he did not immediately speak of the parcel, his
thoughts being diverted by his mother’s question:
“Well, Andy, did you see Mr. Starr?”
“Yes, mother, I saw him,” answered Andy, soberly.
“Well, what does he say?” Mrs. Gordon inquired, anxiously.
“Nothing that’s encouraging. Mother, I believe he is one of the meanest
men I ever knew.”
“He must know that your father paid that note.”
“Of course he knows it. A man doesn’t often forget such a thing as that.
At any rate, Mr. Starr isn’t that kind of man.”
“What did he say when you told him the note had been paid?”
“That, of course, we could show the receipt.”
“It was a cunningly laid plot,” said Mrs. Gordon, indignantly. “He kept
back the note, in the hope that your father would mislay the receipt. Perhaps
he was even wicked enough to hope that he would be killed, and so clear
the way for carrying out his fraudulent scheme.”
“I shouldn’t wonder if it were so, mother. I believe the old man would
sell himself for money.”
Then, chancing to think of Mr. Starr’s involuntary ride on one of his own
cows, Andy began to laugh heartily, considerably to the surprise of his
mother.
“I can’t see anything to laugh at, Andy,” she said, wonderingly.
“You would have laughed if you had seen what happened while I was
talking to Mr. Starr.”
And Andy proceeded to give an account of the scene.
Mrs. Gordon smiled, but she was too much impressed by the serious
position in which they were placed to feel as much amusement as Andy.
“I am afraid, Andy,” she said, “that Mr. Starr will deprive us of our
furniture, unless something unexpected turns up in our favor.”
This recalled to Andy’s mind the packet which he had just brought from
the post office.
“That reminds me, mother,” he said, quickly. “I got a letter, or package,
from the post office just now, for you. Perhaps there is something in it that
may help us.”

He drew from his pocket the package and handed it to his mother.
Mrs. Gordon received it with undisguised amazement.
“Erie, Pennsylvania,” she read, looking at the postmark. “I don’t know
anybody there.”
“Open it, mother. Here are the scissors.”
Mrs. Gordon cut the string which helped confine the parcel, and then cut
open the envelope.
“It is your father’s wallet, Andy,” she said, in a voice of strong emotion,
removing the contents.
“Father’s wallet? How can it be sent you from Erie at this late day?”
asked Andy, in surprise equal to his mother’s.
“Here is a note. Perhaps that will tell,” said his mother, drawing from the
envelope a folded sheet of note paper. “I will read it.”
The note was as follows:
“Dear Madam: I have to apologize to you for retaining so long in my
possession an article which properly belongs to you, and ought long ago to
have been sent to you. Before explaining the delay, let me tell you how this
wallet came into my possession.
“Like your lamented husband, I was a soldier in the late war. We
belonged to different regiments and different States, but accident made us
acquainted. Toward the close of a great battle I found him lying upon the
ground, bleeding freely from a terrible wound in the breast. Though nearly
gone, he recognized me, and he said, as his face brightened:
“ ‘Ramsay, I believe I am dying. Will you do me a favor?’
“ ‘You have only to ask,’ I said, saddened by the thought that my friend
was about to leave me.
“ ‘You’ll find a wallet in my pocket. Its contents are important to my
family. Will you take it and send it to my wife?’
“Of course I agreed to do it, and your husband, I have reason to know,
died with a burden lifted from his mind in that conviction. But before the
action was over I, too, was stricken by one of the enemy’s bullets. My
wound was not a dangerous one, but it rendered me incapable of thought or
action. I was sent to the hospital, and my personal effects were forwarded to
my family.

“Well, in course of time I recovered, and, remembering your husband’s
commission, I searched for the wallet—but searched in vain. I feared it had
been taken by some dishonest person. The war closed and I returned home.
I ought to have written to you about the matter, but I feared to excite vain
regrets. Perhaps I decided wrongly, but I resolved to say nothing about the
wallet, since it seemed to be irretrievably lost.
“Yesterday, however, in examining an old trunk, I, to my great joy,
discovered the long-missing wallet. I have taken the liberty to look into it,
but cannot judge whether the contents, apart from the money, are of
importance. My duty, however, is plain—to forward you the article at once.
I do so, therefore, and beg you to relieve my anxiety by apprising me as
soon as you receive it.
“Once more let me express my regret that there has been so great a
delay, and permit me to subscribe myself your husband’s friend,
“Benjamin Ramsay.”
It is needless to say that both Andy and his mother were deeply
interested in a letter which threw light upon the closing scene in the life of
one so dear to them.
“Andy,” said his mother, “open the wallet. I cannot.”
The sight of it naturally aroused painful recollections in the heart of the
bereaved wife. Andy was not slow in obeying his mother’s directions.
The first, and most prominent in the list of contents, was a roll of
greenbacks. The bills were of various denominations, and they aggregated
the sum of forty-five dollars.
“Money saved by your poor father from his salary,” said Mrs. Gordon.
“He will be glad that it has come into our hands, mother.”
“Yes; he was always thinking of those he left behind.”
“Here are some papers, too, mother,” said Andy. “They seem to be
receipted bills.”
“I wish,” sighed the widow, “that the receipt from Mr. Starr might be
found among them.”
One by one Andy opened the papers, hoping, but not much expecting,
that the missing receipt might be found.

“Here it is, mother!” he exclaimed at last, triumphantly, flourishing a slip
of paper.
“Let me see it, Andy,” said his mother, hurriedly.
“Don’t you see, mother? Here is his signature—Joshua Starr. I wonder
what the old rascal will say to that?”
“The Lord has listened to my prayer, Andy. He has brought us out of our
trouble.”
“Don’t say anything about it, mother,” said Andy. “I want to see how far
the old swindler will go. I wonder what he will say when we show him the
receipt?”

CHAPTER X.
THE FATE OF A BULLY.
The next day, Herbert Ross reappeared at school. As we know, it had
been his intention not to go back unless Dr. Euclid would dismiss Andy
from the post of janitor.
Now, however, he and his father saw a way of getting even with our
hero, by the help of Mr. Starr, and the note which he had placed in the
lawyer’s hands for collection.
The prospect of distressing the family of his poor schoolmate was
exceedingly pleasant to Herbert, who from time to time cast glances of
triumph at Andy, which the latter well understood. But, with the means at
hand to foil his ungenerous foe, Andy, too, could afford to be in good
spirits, and his face showed that he was so.
This puzzled Herbert not a little. He had expected that Andy would be
cast down, and was annoyed because he seemed so far from despondent.
“Of course they can’t pay the note,” thought Herbert, with momentary
apprehension. “But of course they can’t! I don’t suppose they have got ten
dollars in the house. I mean to go round when the sheriff seizes the
furniture. Andy won’t look quite so happy then, I am thinking!”
Herbert recited his Latin lesson as poorly as usual—perhaps even more
so, for his mind had been occupied with other things—and Dr. Euclid, who
never flattered or condoned the shortcomings of a pupil on account of his
social position, sharply reprimanded him.
“Herbert Ross,” he said, “how do you expect to get into college if you
recite so disgracefully?”
“The lesson was hard,” said Herbert, coolly, shrugging his shoulders.
“Hard, was it?” retorted the doctor. “There are some of your classmates
who succeeded in learning it. Andrew Gordon, did you find the lesson very
hard?”
“No, sir,” answered Andy, promptly.
Herbert looked at his successful classmate with a sneer.

“I can’t expect to compete with a janitor!” he said, slowly.
“Then,” said the doctor, provoked, “the sooner you obtain the position of
a janitor the better, if that is going to improve the character of your
recitations!”
“I wouldn’t accept such a position!” said Herbert, coloring with anger.
“You are not likely to have one offered you,” said the doctor. “A boy
who neglects his lessons is not likely to discharge well the duties of any
position.”
Herbert bit his lips in annoyance, but he did not dare to say anything
more, for he saw, by the ominous flashing of Dr. Euclid’s eyes, that he was
in no mood to suffer impertinence.
He began to regret that he had been induced to return to school. He felt
that it was very reprehensible in Dr. Euclid to treat the son of his most
important patron with so little deference, or, indeed, respect.
“But never mind!” thought Herbert. “I will soon have my revenge.
Father has given Mrs. Gordon a week’s grace, and then she will have to pay
the note or lose her furniture.”
Two days later an incident occurred which incensed Herbert still more
against Andy, and, as usual, the fault was Herbert’s.
The young aristocrat was a natural bully. Like most bullies he was
deficient in courage, and preferred to cope with a boy smaller than himself.
For this reason he was both hated and feared by the young boys of the
village, as he seldom lost an opportunity to annoy and tease them.
On Saturday there was no session of the Hamilton Academy. Teacher
and scholars enjoyed a season of rest which was welcome to both.
After getting through a late breakfast, Herbert Ross took his hat, and
sauntered through the village in search of something to amuse him or while
away his time. Though he was glad to stay at home from school, he found
Saturday rather a dull day.
There was a young clerk with whom he used sometimes to play billiards
in the evening, but during the day it was difficult to find anyone who was
not employed.
“I wish father would move to New York or Philadelphia,” thought
Herbert, yawning. “Hamilton is a dull hole, and there’s absolutely nothing

to do. If we lived in a city, there wouldn’t be any difficulty in finding
company and enjoying myself.”
There was a vacant field, unfenced, near the engine house, which was
used as a sort of common by the village boys, and in the course of his walk
Herbert Ross came to it.
Two boys of ten were playing marbles in one corner of the field. Their
names were Harry Parker and John Grant.
“I’ll have some fun with them,” thought Herbert.
He stood watching the boys for a minute or two, then, stooping suddenly,
seized the marbles with which they were playing.
“Give me those marbles, Herbert Ross,” cried Johnny Grant.
“What’ll you give to get them back?” asked Herbert.
“It’s mean to break up our game,” said Harry.
“Here, then, come and get them,” said Herbert.
Harry approached, and extended his hand to receive the marbles, but
Herbert, with a taunting laugh, drew back his own hands, and put them into
his pocket.
Johnny had a spirit of his own, though he was a small boy, and he
doubled up his small fists, and said, angrily:
“You have no business to keep our marbles.”
“What are you going to do about it?” demanded Herbert, provokingly.
“I know what I’d do if I was as big as you,” said Johnny, hotly.
“Well, what would you do, you little bantam?”
“I’d give you a licking and make you cry.”
“Hear the small boy talk!” said Herbert, bursting into a laugh.
“It’s because we are small boys that you interfere with us,” said Harry.
“You don’t dare to take one of your size.”
“Look here, you little rascal, you are getting impudent,” said Herbert,
who was sensitive to an imputation that he knew to be well founded. “If you
ain’t careful, I’ll do something worse than take your marbles.”
“What will you do?” asked Johnny, spiritedly.
“What will I do? Come here and I’ll show you.”

Johnny, in no way frightened, approached, and Herbert, seizing him by
the collar, tripped him up, depositing him upon the ground.
“That’s the way I punish impudence,” said Herbert.
There had been a witness to his cowardly act.
“What are you doing there, Herbert Ross?” demanded Andy, who had
just come up.
“None of your business!” retorted Herbert; but he looked disturbed.
“Harry, what has he been doing to you?” asked Andy.
Harry and Johnny both told their story.
Andy turned to Herbert, with eyes full of contempt.
“You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Herbert Ross, to tease little boys.
Give them back their marbles.”
“I will give them back when I get ready,” said Herbert, doggedly.
“Give them up now, or you will be sorry for it.”
“Mind your business!” retorted Herbert, and turned to walk away.
Before he well knew what was going to happen, the young bully found
himself lying on his back, in the very spot where he had deposited Johnny a
minute before, with Andy bending over him.
“Let me up, you brute!” he screamed.
“So I will, when you have given up the marbles.”
Herbert struggled, but in the end was obliged to surrender the marbles.
As he rose from the ground he shook his fist at Andy, and shouted, with
passion:
“You’ll repent this, Andrew Gordon! You’ll be a beggar inside of a week,
and in State’s prison before the year’s out!”
“Thank you for your good wishes!” said Andy, coolly. “I’ll take the risk
of both.”
As Herbert slunk home discomfited, he felt that he hated Andy Gordon
more than any one in the world, and vowed to be revenged.

CHAPTER XI.
ANDY IS ENGAGED FOR POLICE DUTY.
“I wonder how it is,” said Andy to himself, as he walked home, “that I
am always getting into a quarrel with Herbert Ross? I don’t think it’s my
fault. I couldn’t stand by and see those two little boys imposed upon
without interfering. I suppose Herbert is angrier with me than ever, and that
he will report this to his father, and get him to proceed against us at once.
No matter; we shall be prepared to see him.”
Andy was more than ever thankful that the all-important receipt was in
his mother’s possession. Whatever the lawyer might say, he believed that he
was intending to punish them in the interest of his son.
In one respect, however, Andy made a mistake. Herbert did not report
this last difficulty at home.
He was aware that he had not figured to advantage in his treatment of the
two little boys, and any investigation of the matter would reveal this fact.
It would not be long now before he would have the satisfaction of seeing
Andy and his mother in serious trouble, and, though impatient, he decided
to wait for that. Then the triumph would be his.
When Andy reached home, he found that his mother had callers.
In a lonely situation, about a quarter of a mile beyond the farmhouse of
Mr. Joshua Starr, lived two maiden ladies—Susan and Sally Peabody—both
over fifty years of age.
Their father had died thirty years before, leaving them a cottage, with an
acre of land, and some twelve thousand dollars in stocks and bonds.
Living economically, this sum had materially increased, and they were
considered in the village rich ladies, as, indeed, they were, since their
income amounted to more than twice their expenditures, and they were
laying up probably five hundred dollars annually.
They were very good and kind, simple-hearted old ladies, and very much
respected in the village.

The elder of these ladies, Miss Sally Peabody, Andy found in his
mother’s plain sitting-room.
As he entered, he heard Miss Peabody say:
“I should like to borrow your Andy to-night, Mrs. Gordon, if you have
no objection.”
Mrs. Gordon supposed that her visitor had some work which she wished
Andy to do, and as the latter was always glad of a job, she answered:
“I am sure, Miss Sally, that Andy will be glad to do anything that you
require.”
“I don’t want him to do anything,” answered Miss Peabody. “I want him
to sleep at our house to-night.”
Mrs. Gordon looked a little puzzled, but Miss Sally went on to explain.
“You see, Mrs. Gordon, we had a sum of five hundred dollars paid in
unexpectedly this morning, and we can’t get it to the bank till Monday.
Now, it makes my sister nervous to think of having such a sum of money in
the house. I was reading in the papers of a burglar entering a house at night
in Thebes—the next village—and it might happen to us. I don’t know what
we should do, as we have no man in the house.”
“Andy isn’t a man,” said Mrs. Gordon, smiling.
“No, he isn’t a man, but he is a good stout boy, and we should feel safer
if he were in the house.”
“What an uncommonly sensible old lady Miss Peabody is!” thought
Andy.
He felt proud of his presence being supposed to be a safeguard against
housebreakers.
“I’ll go, Miss Peabody,” he said, promptly.
“But, Andy,” said his mother, “you could do no good.”
“I don’t know about that, mother,” said Andy.
“You would be no match for a bold, bad man, and I don’t like to think of
your being in danger.”
“Oh, you’re a woman, mother, and don’t understand!” answered Andy,
good-humoredly. “I can scare a burglar away if he tries to get in.”
“I don’t suppose, really, that there is any danger of the house being
entered,” said Miss Peabody; “but still we shall feel safer with Andy in the

house.”
“Why don’t you engage a man, Miss Sally?” asked the widow.
“The very man we engaged might rob us of the money.”
“But you might engage some one whom you knew.”
“Five hundred dollars would be a great temptation to one who was
generally honest. No, Mrs. Gordon, I would much rather have Andy. If you
will let him stay at our house to-night and to-morrow night, I will pay him
for his trouble.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t ask anything for it, Miss Peabody!” said Andy.
“But I should insist on paying you all the same, Andy. My sister and I
make it a rule never to ask a service of any one without paying for it. With
our income as large as it is, we should think ourselves mean if we acted
otherwise.”
“You are very different from your neighbor, Mr. Starr,” said Mrs.
Gordon.
“I am really afraid that Mr. Starr is too fond of money,” said Miss Sally,
mildly. “I don’t want to be too severe upon him, but I am afraid he is a little
too close.”
“A little too close!” replied Andy. “He is the meanest man I ever met.”
“Are you not a little too severe, Andy?” asked the spinster.
“Not a bit. He is trying to make mother pay a note over twice.”
“I can hardly believe such a thing.”
“Then I will tell you all about it,” said Andy, and he gave an account of
the matter.
“And do you think you will have to pay it?” asked Miss Peabody, in a
tone of sympathy.
Mrs. Gordon was about to explain why they would be spared the
necessity, but a warning look from Andy prevented her.
Miss Peabody, with all her virtues, was fond of talking, and Andy’s plan
of confounding his adversary would be spoiled.
“No, I don’t think we shall have to pay it,” Andy hastened to say. “We
have a plan, but we don’t like to speak of it just yet, for fear Mr. Starr will
hear of it.”

“If he really insists on his demand,” said Miss Sally, “perhaps sister
Susan and I can help you. How large is the note?”
“With interest it would amount to over a hundred dollars—perhaps thirty
dollars more.”
“We might advance the money, and you could give us a note.”
“You are very kind, Miss Sally,” said Mrs. Gordon, gratefully; and she
paused and looked at Andy.
“We shall not pay it at all if we can help it, Miss Peabody,” said Andy,
“for we don’t believe in rewarding Mr. Starr’s dishonesty; but, if we find
ourselves obliged to do so, we shall remember your kind offer.”
“You are a true friend, Miss Sally,” said the widow. “We could give no
security, except our furniture. We might give you a bill of sale of that.”
“As if I would take it, Mrs. Gordon! No, we have every confidence in
your honesty, and even if you could not repay it, Andy would some day be
able to.”
“And I would do it, too, Miss Peabody,” said Andy, stoutly. “But I don’t
believe we shall need to ask you for the money.”
“It would be a pity to have to pay the note over again. I am really
surprised at Mr. Starr,” said Miss Sally, who never used strong language in
commenting upon the moral delinquencies of her neighbors.
“When do you want Andy to come over?” asked Mrs. Gordon.
“We should be glad to have him come to supper. It will seem pleasant to
us to have company. Susan and I get tired sometimes of only seeing one
another’s faces.”
“Very well, Miss Peabody, I will be on hand.”
“I suppose there is no fear of your having to fight burglars,” said Mrs.
Gordon. “No burglary has been known here for years.”
“No, I suppose not,” answered Andy. “I shan’t have any chance to show
off my bravery.”
He might have come to a different opinion if he had seen the villainous-
looking tramp, who, skulking near the house, had heard, through the open
window, the first and most important part of the conversation.

CHAPTER XII.
MIKE HOGAN.
In the summer season not a few of the desperate characters who, at other
times, lurk in the lanes and alleys in our cities, start out on vagabond tramps
through the country districts.
Mike Hogan was a fit representative of this class. He was a low-browed
ruffian, with unkempt hair and a beard of a week’s growth, with a look in
his eyes that inspired distrust.
He was physically strong, and abundantly able to work, but preferred to
dispense with labor, and live on the credulity or the fears of his fellow men.
Mike had served a term at Sing Sing, but punishment in no way altered
his way of life. If anything, it confirmed him in his opposition to the law
and his worthless habits.
He had been on the tramp now for two weeks, and accident had brought
him to the neighborhood of Hamilton a couple of days before.
Mike had already made two calls, though he had only been an hour in
the village. The first was to the house of Mr. Ross, the lawyer.
The master of the house was not at home, but Herbert was in the front
yard. In fact, he was sitting on the doorstep, whittling.
Mike’s experience taught him that children are generally less suspicious,
and more easily moved to compassion, than their elders.
He therefore addressed himself with some confidence to Herbert, of
whose disposition he knew nothing, or he would not have expected any help
from him or through his influence.
“Young gentleman,” he said, in a whining voice, as he rested his elbows
on the top of the front gate, “I am a poor man——”
Herbert looked up, and surveyed the uncouth visitor with profound
disdain. He always despised the poor, and made little discrimination
between the deserving and the undeserving.
“You don’t look very rich,” he said, after a pause.

His tone was not particularly compassionate, but Mike did not detect the
nature of his feelings.
“Indeed, young sir,” he continued, in the same whining tone, “I have
been very unfortunate.”
“You have seen better days, I suppose,” said Herbert, who had not the
slightest idea of giving Hogan anything, but meant to play with him as a cat
does with a mouse before sending him away.
“Yes, I have,” said Hogan. “Once I was prosperous, but ill health and
misfortune came, and swept away all my money, and now I have to travel
around and ask a few pennies of kind strangers.”
“Why don’t you go to work? You look strong enough,” said Herbert.
And in this he was perfectly right.
“Why don’t I work? I ain’t able,” answered the tramp.
“You look strong enough.”
“You shouldn’t judge by looks, young gentleman. I have fever ’n’ ager
awful, and the rheumatism is in all my joints. You look rich and generous.
Can’t you spare a few pennies for a poor man?”
“You mustn’t judge by looks,” said Herbert, laughing at his own
repartee. “My father’s rich, but he don’t give anything to tramps.”
Now the professional tramp, although quite aware of his own character,
objects to being called a tramp. He does not care to see himself as others
see him.
Mike Hogan answered shortly, and without his customary whine:
“I am not a tramp. I’m an honest, poor man.”
“Honest!” repeated Herbert. “I shouldn’t wonder if you had just come
out of State’s prison.”
This remark Mike Hogan considered altogether too personal. The fact
that it was true made it still more offensive. His tone completely changed
now, and, instead of a whine, it became a growl, as he retorted:
“You’d better keep your tongue between your teeth, young whipper-
snapper! You can’t insult me because I am a poor man.”
“You’d better look out,” said Herbert, angrily. “My father’s a lawyer, and
a justice of the peace, and he’ll have you put in the lockup.”

“Come out here, and I’ll wring your neck, you young villain!” said Mike
Hogan, whose evil temper was now fully aroused.
“I wish father was here,” said Herbert, indignantly.
“I’d lick you both, and make nothing of it!” exclaimed the tramp.
“I thought you were not strong enough to work,” sneered Herbert.
“I am strong enough to give you a beating,” growled Hogan.
“Go away from here! You have no business to lean on our gate!”
“I shall lean on it as long as I please!” said the tramp, defiantly. “Are you
coming out here?”
If Mike Hogan had been a small boy, Herbert would not have been slow
in accepting this invitation, but there was something in the sinister look and
the strong, vigorous frame of Mike Hogan which taught him a lesson of
prudence.
Herbert had never before wished so earnestly that he were strong and
muscular. It would have done him good to seize the intruder, and make him
bellow for mercy, but his wish was fruitless, and Mike remained master of
the situation.
At this moment, however, he was re-enforced by his dog, Prince, who
came round from behind the house.
“Bite him, Prince!” exclaimed Herbert, triumphantly.
Prince needed no second invitation. Like the majority of dogs of
respectable connections, he had a deep distrust and hatred of any person
looking like a beggar or a tramp, and he sprang for the rough-looking
visitor, barking furiously.
If Herbert expected the tramp to take flight it was because he did not
know the courage and ferocity of Mike Hogan. Some dogs, doubtless,
would have made him quail, but Prince was a small-sized dog, weighing not
over fifty pounds, and, as the animal rushed to attack him, Mike gave a
derisive laugh.
“Why don’t you send a rat or a kitten?” he exclaimed, scornfully.
Prince was so accustomed to inspire fear that he did not stop to take the
measure of his human adversary, but sprang over the fence and made for the
tramp, intending to fasten his teeth in the leg of the latter.

But Mike Hogan was on the alert. He bent over, and, as the dog
approached, dexterously seized him, threw him over on his back, and then
commenced powerfully compressing his throat and choking him.
Poor Prince seemed utterly powerless in his vigorous grasp. His tongue
protruded from his mouth, his eyes seemed starting from their sockets, and
death by strangulation seemed imminent.
Herbert Ross surveyed this unexpected sight with mingled surprise and
dismay.
“Let him go! Don’t kill him!” he screamed.
“What made you set him on me?” demanded the tramp, savagely.
“Let him go, and he shan’t bite you!” said Herbert.
“I will take care of that myself,” said Hogan. “When I get through with
him, you’ll have to bury him.”
“Let him go, and I’ll give you a quarter,” said Herbert, in the extremity
of his alarm.
“That sounds better,” said Mike Hogan, moderating his grip. “Where’s
the quarter?”
Herbert hurried to the fence and handed over the coin.
Mike took it, and, with a laugh, tossed the almost senseless dog into the
yard, where he lay gasping for breath.
“If you’ve got any more dogs, bring ’em on,” he said, with a laugh.
“Next time, you’ll know how to treat a gentleman.”
Herbert had a retort on the end of his tongue, but did not dare to utter it.
He had been too much impressed and terrified by the tramp’s extraordinary
display of strength to venture to provoke him further.
“Well,” thought Hogan, chuckling, “I made the boy come down with
something, after all. I paid him well for his impudence.”
Continuing on his way he stopped at a house where he was offered some
cold meat, but no money. Being hungry, he accepted, and again continued
his march.
In passing Mrs. Gordon’s house his attention was attracted by the sound
of voices. Thinking it possible that he might hear something which he could
turn to advantage, he placed himself in a position where he could overhear
what was said.

His eyes sparkled when he heard Miss Sally speak of the large sum of
money she had in the house.
“Ho, ho!” said he, to himself, “I’m in luck. You won’t need to carry that
money to the bank, my lady. I’ll take care of it for you. As for this boy who
is to guard it, I’ll scare him out of his wits!”
When Sally Peabody left the cottage of Mrs. Gordon she was not aware
that her steps were tracked by one of the most reckless and desperate
criminals in the State.
He followed her far enough to learn where she lived and then concealed
himself in the woods until the time should come for active operations.

CHAPTER XIII.
ANDY ON GUARD.
The Peabody girls, as people in Hamilton were accustomed to call them,
though they were over fifty years of age, lived in an old-fashioned house,
consisting of a main part and an L.
It was a prim-looking house, and everything about it looked prim; but
nothing could be more neat and orderly. The front yard was in perfect order.
Not a stick or a stone was out of place.
In the fall, when the leaves fell from the trees, they were carefully
gathered every morning and carried away, for even nature was not allowed
to make a litter on the old maids’ premises.
A brass knocker projected from the outer door. The Misses Peabody had
not yet adopted the modern innovation of bells. On either side of the front
door was a square room—one serving as a parlor, the other as a sitting-
room. In the rear of the latter was a kitchen, and in the rear of that was a
woodshed. The last two rooms were in the L part. This L part consisted of a
single story, surmounted by a gently-sloping roof. From the chamber over
the sitting-room one could look out upon the roof of the L part.
This the reader will please to remember.
When Andy knocked at the door at five o’clock, it was opened by Miss
Sally Peabody in person.
“I am so glad you have come, Andy,” she said, “and so is sister Susan. I
never said anything to her about inviting you, but she thought it a capital
idea. We shall feel ever so much safer.”
Of course Andy felt flattered by the importance assigned to his presence.
What boy of his age would not?
“I don’t know whether I can do any good, Miss Sally,” he said, “but I am
very glad to come.”
“You shan’t be sorry for it,” assured Miss Susan, nodding significantly.
Probably this referred to her promise to pay Andy for his trouble. Our
hero would never have asked anything for his service. Still, as the Peabodys

were rich—that is, for a country village—he had no objection to receive
anything which they might voluntarily offer.
“Come right in, Andy,” said Miss Sally.
She preceded our hero into the sitting-room, where her sister Susan was
setting the table for tea.
“Here he is, Susan—here is Andy,” said Sally.
Andy received a cordial welcome from the elder of the two sisters.
“And how is your mother, Andy?” she asked.
“Pretty well, thank you, Miss Susan,” answered Andy, surveying with
interest the nice plate of hot biscuit which Miss Susan was placing on the
tea table.
He was a healthy boy, and was growing fast, so that he may be pardoned
for appreciating a good table.
“We don’t always have hot biscuits, Andy,” said the simple-minded old
maid, “but we thought you would like them, and so I told sister Sally that I
would make some.”
“I hope you haven’t put yourself out any on my account, Miss Susan,”
Andy said.
“It isn’t often we have company,” said Susan, with a smile, “and we
ought to have something a little better than common.”
“I am not used to luxurious living, you know,” said Andy.
“How is your mother getting along?” inquired his hostess,
sympathetically.
“Very well, thank you!”
“My sister told me Mr. Starr was giving her some trouble.”
“That is true; but I guess it’ll turn out all right.”
“If it doesn’t,” said Sally, “remember what I told your mother. My sister
quite agrees with me that we will advance the money to pay the note, if
necessary.”
“You are very kind, Miss Sally, but you might never get it back.”
“We will trust your mother—and you, Andy,” said Sally Peabody, kindly.
“It wouldn’t ruin us if we did lose the money—would it, Sister Susan?”
“No, indeed!” said Susan. “We shouldn’t borrow any trouble on that
account. But supper is ready. I hope you have an appetite, Andy?”

“I generally have,” answered Andy, as he seated himself at the neat
supper-table.
Our hero, whether he was in danger from burglars or not, was in danger
of being made sick by the overflowing hospitality of the sisters. They so
plied him with hot biscuits, cake, preserves and pie that our hero felt
uncomfortable when he rose from the table. Even then his hospitable
entertainers did not seem to think he had eaten enough.
“Why, you haven’t made a supper, Andy,” said Miss Sally.
“I don’t think I ever ate so much in my life before at a single meal,”
answered Andy. “If you don’t mind, I’ll go out and walk a little.”
“Certainly, Andy, if you wish.”
Andy went out and walked about the place.
“How lucky the Peabodys are!” he said to himself. “They have plenty to
live upon, and don’t have to earn a cent. I wonder how it would seem if
mother and I were as well off? But they’re very kind ladies, and I don’t
grudge them their good fortune, even if I am poor myself.”
In one respect Andy was mistaken. It is by no means a piece of good
luck to be able to live without work. It takes away, in many cases, the
healthy stimulus to action, and leaves life wearisome and monotonous.
More than one young man has been ruined by what the world called his
good fortune.
In the corner of a small stable, Andy found a musket. Like most boys, he
was attracted by a gun.
“I wonder whether it’s loaded?” he said to himself.
He raised it to his shoulder and pulled the trigger.
Instantly there was a deafening report, and the two old maids ran to the
door in dire dismay.
“What’s the matter?” they cried, simultaneously, peeping through a crack
of the door.
“I was trying this gun,” said Andy, a little ashamed.
“A gun! Where did it come from?”
“Isn’t it yours?”
“No; we wouldn’t dare to keep a gun about. Why, where did you find
it?”

Andy told them, and they concluded it had been left by a neighbor, who
had recently done a little work around the place.
Andy was struck by an idea.
“May I take it into the house,” he asked, “and keep it in the chamber
where I am to sleep?”
“I shouldn’t dare to have a gun in the house,” said Susan.
“But it isn’t loaded.”
“I think there is no objection,” said Sally, who was not quite so timid as
her sister. “We are going to put you into the chamber over the sitting-room,”
she added.
“All right!” said Andy.
“The money is in a little trunk under your bed. You won’t be afraid to
have it there, will you?”
“I am never afraid of money,” said Andy, smiling.
Andy went to bed at an early hour—at about quarter after nine. It was
the custom of the sisters to go to bed early, and he did not wish to interfere
with their household arrangements.
The gun he placed in the corner of the room, close to his bed.
He did not know how long he had been asleep, when, all at once, he
awoke suddenly. The moonlight was streaming into the room, and by the
help of it he saw a villainous-looking face jammed against the pane of the
window overlooking the shed.
“A burglar!” thought he, and sprang from the bed.

CHAPTER XIV.
ANDY IS BESIEGED.
My readers will admit that to awaken from sleep, and see a man looking
in at the window, is sufficient to startle a brave man. When it is added that
the face bore the unmistakable mark of bad passions and a lawless life, it
will be understood that Andy might well have been excused for momentary
terror.
He was, however, partly prepared for the visit by the knowledge that
there was money in the house, which he was especially commissioned to
guard. Still, he had not really supposed there was any danger of a burglar
coming to so quiet a village as Hamilton in pursuit of money.
Besides, no one but himself, so he supposed, knew that the maiden ladies
had a large sum of money in their dwelling.
I will not deny that Andy was startled—I will not admit that he was
frightened, for this is inconsistent with his conduct.
He certainly had not awakened any too soon. There was not a minute to
lose. The burglar was trying to raise the window, preparatory to entering the
room.
In this, however, he met with a difficulty. The window was fastened at
the middle, and he could not raise it.
“Curse the bolt!” exclaimed the disappointed burglar. “I shall have to
smash it in!”
Just then, however, Andy sprang from the bed, and, under the
circumstances, Hogan felt glad. He could frighten the boy into turning the
fastening, and admitting him.
As Andy rose, he grasped the old musket, and, not without a thrill of
excitement, faced the scoundrel.
If the gun had been loaded, he would have felt safe, but he knew very
well that he could do no harm with it.
Mike Hogan saw the gun, but he was not a coward, and he felt
convinced that Andy would not dare to use it, though he supposed it to be

loaded.
“What do you want?” called out Andy, in a firm voice.
“Open this window!” cried Hogan, in a tone of command.
He was not afraid of being heard by other parties, on account of the
isolated position of the house.
As he spoke, he tugged at the frame of the window; but, of course,
without success.
“Why should I?” returned Andy, who wanted time to think.
“Never mind, you young jackanapes. Do as I tell you!” said Hogan,
fiercely.
As he spoke, overcome by his irritation at being foiled when close upon
the treasure he coveted, he smashed a pane with his fist, but not without
cutting his hand and drawing blood.
Through the fractured pane Andy could hear him more distinctly.
“What do you want?” repeated Andy.
“I want that five hundred dollars you are guarding, and I mean to have
it!” returned Hogan.
“What five hundred dollars?” asked Andy, but he could not help being
startled by the accurate information of the burglar.
“Oh, you needn’t play ignorant!” said Hogan, impatiently. “The lady
who lives here sent for you to take care of it. She might as well have
engaged a baby,” he added, contemptuously.
“You will find I am something more than a baby!” said Andy, stoutly.
“Open this window, I tell you once again.”
“I won’t!” said Andy, shortly.
“You won’t, hey? Do you know what I will do with you when I get in?”
demanded Hogan, furiously.
“No, I don’t.”
“I’ll beat you black and blue.”
“You’ll have to get in first,” said our hero, undaunted.
“Do you think I can’t?”
Hogan spoke with assumed confidence, but he realized that it would not
be easy if Andy held out. He had already had a severe experience in

breaking one pane of glass, and shrank from trying another.
“I know you can’t,” said Andy, and he raised the gun significantly to his
shoulder and held it pointed toward the burglar.
“Put down that gun!” shouted Hogan.
“Then leave the window.”
“Just wait till I get at you,” said Hogan, grinding his teeth.
He realized that Andy was not as easily scared as he anticipated. To be
balked by a mere boy was galling to him. If he only had a pistol himself;
but he had none. He had had one when he left New York, but he had sold it
for two dollars, fifty miles away. He was positively helpless, while Andy
had him at a disadvantage. Should he give up his intended robbery? That
would be a bitter disappointment, for he was penniless, and five hundred
dollars would be a great windfall for him. An idea came to him.
“Put down your gun,” he said, in a milder tone. “I have something to
propose to you.”
In some surprise, Andy complied with his request.
“There are five hundred dollars in this house.”
“You say so,” said Andy, non-committally.
“Pooh! I know there are. That is a large sum of money.”
“I suppose it is,” said Andy, who did not understand his drift.
“So is half of it. Two hundred and fifty dollars would be a big sum for a
boy like you.”
“What have I to do with it?” asked Andy, puzzled.
“Open this window and let me in, and I’ll share the money with you.”
“Oh, that’s what you mean, is it?”
“Yes. No one need know that you have part of the money. It will be
thought that I have made off with all of it.”
“Then you think I am a thief, like yourself?” exclaimed Andy,
indignantly. “You are very much mistaken. Even if this money were in the
house, I wouldn’t take a cent of it.”
“Oh, you’re mighty honest! And I’m a thief, am I?” sneered Hogan,
surveying our hero with an ugly look.
“Yes,” answered Andy.
“You’ll repent your impudence,” said Hogan, with a vindictive scowl.

As he spoke, he enlarged the hole in the pane, and, putting in his hand,
attempted, by thrusting it upward, to unlock the fastening.
Had he succeeded in doing this, he could have raised the window easily,
and, once in the chamber, our young hero would have been no match for
him.
Andy realized this, and saw that he must act instantly.
He brought down the butt end of the musket on the intruding hand with
all his strength, the result being a howl of pain from the burglar.
“You’d better give that up,” said Andy, his eyes flashing with
excitement.
Somehow all his timidity had vanished, and he was firmly resolved to
defend the property, intrusted to his charge as long as his strength or
shrewdness enabled him to do so.
“Your life shall pay for this,” exclaimed the injured burglar, with a
terrible oath.
Andy realized that he would fare badly if he should fall into the clutches
of the villain, whose face was actually distorted by rage and pain. The
extremity of his danger, however, only nerved him for continued resistance.
“Once more, will you open the window?” demanded Hogan, who would
not have parleyed so long if he had known any way to get in without Andy’s
help.
“No, I won’t!” answered Andy with resolution.
Mike Hogan surveyed the window, and considered whether it would be
feasible to throw his burly frame against it, and so crush it in. Undoubtedly
he could have done it had he been on the same level, but it was about three
feet higher than he, and so the feat would be more difficult. Besides, it
would be a work of time, and Andy, in whom he found much more boldness
than he anticipated, might shoot him.
A thought came to him, and he began to descend the sloping roof.
“What is he going to do now?” thought Andy. “Has he given it up as a
bad job?”
This was a point which he could not determine.

CHAPTER XV.
AN EXCITING SCENE.
Hogan had not given it up as a bad job. Andy’s unexpected resistance
only made him the more determined to effect his object. Besides the natural
desire to obtain so large a booty, he thirsted for revenge upon Andy.
“The boy’s plucky!” he muttered, as he descended from the roof; “but
I’ll be even with him yet.”
He had to descend cautiously, for the shingles were slippery, but he
finally reached the lowest point and jumped down.
“If I could only find an ax or a hatchet,” he said to himself, “I would
make short work of the window. I don’t believe the boy will dare to shoot.”
He searched for the articles he had named, but in vain.
“What can I take?” he thought, perplexed.
His eyes fell upon a thick club, not unlike a baseball bat, and this seemed
to him suitable for his purpose. He took it and commenced reascending to
the roof again. There was a fence, which helped him as a stepping-stone,
otherwise he would have found it difficult to get a footing upon it.
Meanwhile Andy had not been idle.
First of all, he saw that it was unsafe to have the money any longer in his
custody. His assailant might be successful in the new attempt he would
probably make, and he must not find the bank bills.
Andy did not like to frighten the ladies, but he thought it necessary,
under the circumstances. He went to the door of the parlor chamber, which
the two sisters occupied, and rapped loudly on the door.
The knock was heard, and it excited dismay. The timid ladies thought it
might be the burglar of whom they were so much in fear.
“Who’s there?” asked Miss Susan, in trembling accents, through the
keyhole.
“It’s me—Andy. Please open the door—quick!”
“What has happened?” demanded Miss Susan, in agitation.

“I want to hand you the trunk,” answered Andy.
“What for? Is there any burglar in the house?”
“No; but there’s one trying to get into my room.”
“Oh, heavens! what shall we do?” ejaculated both ladies, in chorus.
“Take the tin trunk, and I’ll manage him,” said Andy.
The door was opened a crack and the trunk taken into the trembling
hands of the agitated spinster.
“Where is the burglar?” answered Susan.
“Gone to find something to break through the window.”
“Oh, dear, he will murder us all!”
“No, he won’t,” said Andy. “I won’t let him!”
“You’d better hide,” said Susan. “Is he a big man?”
“Pretty large. He looks as if he was just out of jail.”
“He mustn’t hurt you. I’d rather he had the money. Take it and give it to
him and ask him to go.”
“Not much!” answered Andy, stoutly. “But I must go. He’ll soon be at
the window again. Is there any hot water in the house?”
“Yes; we keep a fire all night in the kitchen, and the teakettle is full.”
“All right!” said Andy, and he dashed downstairs.
“What’s he going to do?” ejaculated Susan, in surprise.
“Heaven only knows! How can he talk of hot water when there’s a
burglar in the house? Lock the door, Sister Susan.”
“I don’t like to shut out poor Andy,” said Susan, in a distressed voice.
“It’s my belief we shall find him a mangled corpse to-morrow morning,
when we go downstairs.”
“I shan’t dare to go down at all. Oh, Susan, this is awful!”
Leaving the agitated spinsters in their trouble and terror, we must look
after Andy.
He ran downstairs, seized the teakettle from the stove, grabbed a tin
dipper, and then ran up to his chamber again.
He was just in time.
There, before the window, stood Mike Hogan, with the club in his hand
and a look of triumph on his face. In the dim light, he did not see the

teakettle.
“Well, my little bantam,” said he, “here I am again!”
“So I see,” said Andy, coolly.
“Once more, and for the last time, I ask you to open that window.”
“I would rather not.”
“You will, if you know what is best for yourself. Do you see this club?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Do you know what it is for?”
“Suppose you tell me.”
“It is to break open the window.”
“That is what I thought.”
“Comfound the boy! He’s a cool customer,” thought Hogan. “Bah! he
must be a fool. Open that window, and I’ll give you ten dollars of the
money,” he said, preferring, if possible, to avoid all trouble.
Of course, when he was fairly in possession of the money, he could
break his promise and give Andy a beating, and he proposed to do both.
“A little while ago you offered me half the money,” said Andy.
“Things were different then. I didn’t have this club. What do you say?”
“That I am not a thief, and don’t mean to make a bargain with a thief!”
answered Andy, resolutely.
“Then you may take the consequences, you young rascal!” exploded the
burglar, garnishing his speech with an oath.
“In two minutes, I shall have you in my clutches!”
He swung back the club and brought it down with full force upon the
window frame. Of course, the panes were shivered and the frail wooden
sticks which constituted the frame were demolished. Another blow and the
window lay in ruins on the carpet of Andy’s chamber.
“He’s killing Andy!” ejaculated the terrified spinsters, as the loud noise
came to their ears. “What shall we do?”
They debated whether they should leave their chamber, and, seeking the
scene of the tragedy, fall down on their knees before the terrible burglar and
implore him to spare the life of their young defender. The spirit was willing,
but the flesh was weak, and in terrible agitation they remained in their
sanctuary.

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