the miner, "I want to see what sort of a
critter your landlord is. The mean scoundrel! It would do me good to
shake him out of his boots."

Zebulon Mack and his assistant had just succeeded in placing the bureau
on the sidewalk when Fred and his mining friend turned the corner of
the street.

"There's mother's bureau!" exclaimed Fred in excitement. "He's begun to
move us out."

"He has, hey?" said Sloan the miner. "We'll soon stop that."

"What are you doing here?" demanded Fred, hurrying up.

Zebulon Mack turned round, and eyed the boy with an ugly frown.

"I told your mother I'd move her out, and I've done it."

"Why didn't you wait for me? I've got the money."

"You have?"

"Yes, I have."

"Pay it over, then."

Fred was about to do so when the miner interposed.

"Don't pay him till he carries back the bureau!" said Sloan.

"You and your friend can do that!" said the landlord.

"If you don't catch hold of that bureau and take it back I'll wring
your neck, you mean scoundrel!" said the miner sternly.

Zebulon Mack looked into the miner's face and thought it wisest to
obey.

"Here, Finnegan!" he said sullenly. "Take hold, and don't be all night
about it."

When the bureau was in place, Fred, who had changed the five-dollar
bill, handed Mr. Mack the three dollars.

"Now, my friend," said the miner, "you can reckon up how much you made
by your meanness. You and that understrapper of yours must enjoy moving
bureaus. I only wish you'd got down the rest of the furniture, so that
I might have the satisfaction of seeing you carry it back."

The landlord glared at Tom Sloan as if he would like to tear him to
pieces. But he took it out in looks.

"Good night, sir," said the miner, "we don't care to have the pleasure
of your company any longer."

"I'll be even with you for all this," growled Mack.

"Don't feel bad, squire. You've got your money."

"Mother," said Fred, "this is my friend, Mr. Sloan."

"I am glad to see any friend of my boy," said Mrs. Fenton. "Won't you
stay and take supper with Fred?"

"I'd like to, ma'am, if it won't be intruding."

"Not at all," said Fred cordially. "I've had luck to-day, mother. A
beautiful young lady gave me five dollars."

"God bless her!" said Mrs. Fenton. "She couldn't have given it at a
better time."

CHAPTER VI.

MR. BASCOM'S PERIL.

Tom Sloan made himself very much at home with the Fentons. The widow
sent out for a steak, and this, with a