Rodney had reason to be satisfied with his position as landlord of the Miners’ Rest.  His pay was large, and enabled him to put away a good sum every month, but his hours were long and he was too closely confined for a boy of his age.  At the end of three months he showed this in his appearance.  His good friend Pettigrew saw it and said one day, “Rodney, you are looking fagged out.  You need a change.”

“Does that mean that you are going to discharge me?” asked Rodney, with a smile.

“It means that I am going to give you a vacation.”

“But what can I do if I take a vacation?  I should not like lounging around Oreville with nothing to do.”

“Such a vacation would do you no good.  I’ll tell you the plan I have for you.  I own a small mine in Babcock, about fifty miles north of Oreville.  I will send you up to examine it, and make a report to me.  Can you ride on horseback?”

“Yes.”

“That is well, for you will have to make your trip in that way.  There are no railroads in that direction, nor any other way of travel except on foot or on horseback.  A long ride like that with hours daily in the open air, will do you good.  What do you say to it?”

“I should like nothing better,” replied Rodney, with his eyes sparkling.  “Only, how will you get along without me?”

“I have a man in my employ at the mines who will do part of your work, and I will have a general oversight of things.  So you need not borrow any trouble on that account.  Do you think you can find your way?”

“Give me the general direction, and I will guarantee to do so.  When shall I start?”

“Day after tomorrow.  That will give me one day for making arrangements.”

At nine the appointed morning Mr. Pettigrew’s own horse stood saddled at the door, and Rodney in traveling costume with a small satchel in his hand, mounted and rode away, waving a smiling farewell to his friend and employer.

Rodney did not hurry, and so consumed two days and a half in reaching Babcock.  Here he was cordially received by the superintendent whom Jefferson Pettigrew had placed in charge of the mine.  Every facility was afforded him to examine into the management of things and he found all satisfactory.

This part of his journey, therefore, may be passed over.  But his return trip was destined to be more exciting.

Riding at an easy jog Rodney had got within fifteen miles of Oreville, when there was an unexpected interruption.  Two men started out from the roadside, or rather from one side of the bridle path for there was no road, and advanced to meet him with drawn revolvers.

“Halt there!” one of them exclaimed in a commanding tone.

Rodney drew bridle, and gazed at the two men in surprise.

“What do you want of me?” he asked.

“Dismount instantly!”

“Why should I?  What right have you to interfere with my journey?”