hat went before it,
and he immediately opened his pocketbook and produced the other bill
which he had received of Isa Isban.

"Please look at this, and see if it is also counterfeit," he asked, with
remarkable coolness.

In a moment the cashier said:

"It is a mate for the first one. Both are 'queer.' My boy, this is bad
stuff to be carrying around. It is liable to bring you into no end of
trouble."

As he said this he was regarding Frank's face with a searching stare, as
if seeking to discover if the lad were honest or crooked.

Frank knew he was under suspicion, and he bore himself as quietly as
possible.

"This is the first intimation I have received that the bills are bad,"
declared the lad. "I received them as I have explained, and I have tried
in several places, this morning, to get one of them broken, but did not
succeed. I finally came here."

The cashier's brows lowered. He partially closed his eyes, and regarded
the boy steadily. Then he began once more to ask questions.

Frank knew he was in an unfortunate situation, and he decided the best
thing he could do was to answer every question truthfully, which he did.

It happened there was not much business going on in the bank. The paying
teller and the receiving teller listened to the questions and answers.
The receiving teller was a young man, and his face wore a sneering look
of incredulity. He regarded Frank with open doubt, and, once or twice,
muttered, "Ridiculous!" "Nonsense!" "A clever lie!" or something of the
sort.

The face of the paying teller was calm and unexpressive. It seemed that
he had not determined in his own mind if the boy were telling the truth.
He was listening to hear everything before he decided.

Frank explained how he came to be in Carson City, having given his name,
age, his guardian's name, told where his home was, and answered more
than a score of other questions.

The sneers of the receiving teller angered the boy; but he held his
feelings in check, and did not seem to hear the man when he proposed
that Merriwell be handed over to the special policeman in front of the
bank.

"Mr. Merriwell," said the cashier, "I shall have to take possession of
these bills."

"Why is that?"

"It is my duty. I have such instructions. You are getting off easy at
that."

"But I shall not recover my hundred dollars."

"No; that is lost. Let me tell you something: There is a band of
queer-makers somewhere in this vicinity. They d