Driver Roundly.]

"You're going home, Myra," he wound up. "You're going to see your
mother."

"My papa is a bad man!"

"Well, he's not here now," smiled Dave. "Did you ever hear of Dick
Prescott?"

"Yes; he's a nice boy."

"You're right he is," added Dave with enthusiasm. "Well, Dick is up
outside, driving the horses, and he'll take us home by the way that it's
best to go."

"Here we are in Main Street," announced Greg wonderingly.

Dave thought he began to understand Prescott's plan, but he said
nothing. A few moments later the cab turned down one of the side
streets, then halted before a cluster of lights.

"The police station!" exploded Greg.

"Of course," nodded Dave.

"Why 'of course'?"

"Because it's part of Dick's plan."

"Come out, fellows," called Dick. "We're at the end of our trip, thank
goodness."

Greg opened the door, Dave stepping out with Myra in his arms.

"My mamma doesn't live here," cried the child uneasily.

"No, but it's all right," Dave urged soothingly. "You come right along
and see if it isn't."

Dick led the way up the police-station steps. In the office three
uniformed members of the force were talking excitedly. One of them was
the night lieutenant, Janeway.

"I tell you, Lieutenant, the thing was done so slickly that the child
ain't going to be found to-night," one of the patrolmen was saying.

"If you're talking about Myra Dexter, guess again," laughed young
Prescott. "Here she is now."

Three astounded policemen turned to regard the happy-faced Grammar
School boys.

"Then she wasn't stolen at all?" demanded one of the patrolmen. "Just
strolled away and got lost, eh?"

"Oh, no!" Dick retorted. "Myra was stolen, all right; but we stole her
back again."

"How?"

"We took her away from her father and a cab-driver," chuckled Greg
Holmes.

"Stop telling us any nonsense like that," interposed the lieutenant
sternly. "Tell us where you found the child."

Dick related the story briefly. The policemen were at first inclined to
doubt the story, but one of them glanced outside and saw the cab.

"If you'll let me offer a suggestion," went on Dick, "there's a mother
at home who is nearly crazy with grief. Hadn't you better call Mrs.
Dexter on the telephone and tell her that Myra is safe with you?"

The lieutenant quickly wheeled to his 'phone, calling for Mrs. Dexter's
number. One of the policemen, in the meantime, received Myra in his
arms.

"Mrs. Dexter?" call