removed the detaining ropes, and
the trolley-wheel began slowly to revolve. The car was moving, and he
knew that somewhere beyond, although he could not see, the car of
Spillane was likewise moving, and in the opposite direction.

There was no need for a brake, for his weight sufficiently
counterbalanced the weight in the other car; and soon he saw the cliff
rising out of the cloud depths and the old familiar drum going round and
round.

Jerry climbed out and made the car securely fast. He did it deliberately
and carefully, and then, quite unhero-like, he sank down by the drum,
regardless of the pelting storm, and burst out sobbing.

There were many reasons why he sobbed--partly from the pain of his hand,
which was excruciating; partly from exhaustion; partly from relief and
release from the nerve-tension he had been under for so long; and in a
large measure for thankfulness that the man and woman were saved.

They were not there to thank him; but somewhere beyond that howling,
storm-driven gulf he knew they were hurrying over the trail toward the
Clover Leaf.

Jerry staggered to the cabin, and his hand left the white knob red with
blood as he opened the door, but he took no notice of it.

He was too proudly contented with himself, for he was certain that he
had done well, and he was honest enough to admit to himself that he had
done well. But a small regret arose and persisted in his thoughts--if
his father had only been there to see!

IN YEDDO BAY

Somewhere along Theater Street he had lost it. He remembered being
hustled somewhat roughly on the bridge over one of the canals that cross
that busy thoroughfare. Possibly some slant-eyed, light-fingered
pickpocket was even then enjoying the fifty-odd yen his purse had
contained. And then again, he thought, he might have lost it himself,
just lost it carelessly.

Hopelessly, and for the twentieth time, he searched in all his pockets
for the missing purse. It was not there. His hand lingered in his empty
hip-pocket, and he woefully regarded the voluble and vociferous
restaurant-keeper, who insanely clamored: "Twenty-five sen! You pay now!
Twenty-five sen!"

"But my purse!" the boy said. "I tell you I've lost it somewhere."

Whereupon the restaurant-keeper lifted his arms indignantly and
shrieked: "Twenty-five sen! Twenty-five sen! You pay now!"

Quite a crowd had collected, and it was growing embarrassing for Alf
Davis.

It was so ridiculous and pet