struggle to
get at the handcuffed boy.

"Stiddy!" sounded the voice of Hank Kildare. "Back! back! back! or, by
the eternal skies, I'll begin ter sling lead!"

But twenty hands seemed reaching to clutch the lad and drag him away.
The sheriff saw that he would not be able to retain his prisoner if he
remained where he was.

"Inter ther station, boy!" came from the giant sheriff's lips. "It's yer
only chance ter git clear o' this yar gang!"

"Howly shmoke!" cried a familiar voice just behind the handcuffed youth.
"Pwhat are they doin' wid yez, Frankie, me b'y?"

"Yes," quavered another voice, likewise familiar, "what is this crazy
mob trying to do? This is something appalling!"

"Barney! Professor!" cried the boy, joyously. "Now I can prove that I am
what I claim to be!"

"I've got him!"

A big ruffian roared the words, as he fastened both hands upon the
manacled lad, and tried to drag him into the midst of the swaying mob.

"Thin take thot, ye spalpane!" shouted the Irish boy, who had appeared
in company with a little, red-whiskered man at the door of the station.

Out shot the hard fist of the young Irishman, and--smack!--it struck the
man fairly in the left eye, knocking him backward into the arms of the
one just behind him.

"It's toime ye got out av thot, me b'y," said Barney Mulloy, as he
grasped the imperiled youth by the collar, and drew him into the
waiting-room of the station.

"That's right, that's right!" fluttered the little man, who was
Professor Scotch. "Let's hurry out by the back door, the way we came in.
We were detained, so we did not arrive in time for the train, but we
came as quickly as we could."

"And arrived just in time," said Frank. "I am in a most appalling
position."

"Well, well!" fluttered the professor. "You can explain that later on.
Let's get away from here."

"Look!"

Frank held up his hands, and, for the first time, his friends saw the
irons on his wrists. They cried out in amazement.

"Pwhat th' ould b'y is th' m'anin' av thot?" demanded Barney Mulloy, in
the most profound astonishment.

"It means that I have been arrested; that's all."

"Pwhat fer?"

"Robbing, shooting, murdering."

"G'wan wid yez!"

"This is no time to joke, Frank," said Professor Scotch, reprovingly.
"Are you never able to restrain your propensity for making sport?"

"This is a sorry joke, professor. I am giving you the straight truth."

"But--but it is impossible--I declare it is!"