, when he was on the street.

"Oh, now you are in town you'll have to look around a bit," said the
slick-looking individual. "You can take a train back to-morrow just as
well. Let me show you a few of the sights."

This tickled the old farmer and he agreed to remain over until the next
noon. Then Henry Davis dragged the old man around to various points of
interest and grew more familiar than ever.

While they were at the top of one of the big office buildings Henry
Davis pretended to drop his pocketbook.

"How careless of me!" he cried.

"Got much in it?" queried Josiah Bean.

"Three thousand dollars."

"Do tell! It's a powerful sight o' money to carry so careless like."

"It is. Maybe you had better carry it for me, Mr. Bean."

"Not me! I ain't goin' to be responsible fer nobody's money but my
own--an' Mirandy's."

"Better see if your own money is safe."

Josiah Bean got out his wallet and counted the bills.

"Safe enough."

"Are you sure? I thought there was only five hundred and fifty."

"No, six hundred."

"I'll bet you ten dollars on it."

"What! can't I count straight," gasped the old farmer, much disturbed.
"Six hundred I tell you," he added, after he had gone over the amount
once more.

"If there is I'll give you the ten dollars," answered the slick one.
"Let me count the bills."

"All right, there ye be, Mr. Davis."

Henry Davis took the wallet and pretended to count the bills.

"Hullo, what's that?" he cried, whirling around.

"What's wot?" demanded Josiah Bean, also looking around.

"I thought I heard somebody cry fire."

"Don't say thet! Say, let's git out o' here--I don't want to look at the
sights."

"All right--here's your money. I guess it's six hundred after all,"
answered the slick-looking individual, passing over the wallet.

They hurried to the elevator and got into quite a crowd of people.

"Wait for me here," said Henry Davis, as they walked past the side
corridor. "I want to step in yonder office and send a message to a
friend."

He ran off, leaving the old farmer by himself. Josiah Bean looked around
him nervously.

"I guess that wasn't no cry o' fire after all," he mused. "Well, if
there's a fire I kin git out from here quick enough."

The office building was a large one, running from one street to the
next. On the street in the rear was a bookstore, the proprietor of which
had advertised for a clerk.

Joe had applied for the position and was waiting for t