n mentioned, beyond the hill the road to Coburntown was
almost straight and level. And here for over two miles Dave allowed
the grays to go along at a good gait, although keeping his eyes on
them continually, so that they might not get beyond control. As a
consequence of this additional burst of speed, when they came in sight
of the town for which they were bound, the grays were quite docile and
willing to behave themselves properly.

"Now if you say so, I'll take you girls around to the French Shop,"
suggested Dave, "and then Ben and I can drive around to Mr. Wecks's
shoe-store."

This was agreeable to Laura and Jessie, and in a few minutes the
girls were left at the door of the establishment where Laura had said
she wished to match some ribbon. Then the two boys started for the
shoe-dealer's shop. Dave had already acquainted Ben with the
particulars of his errand to the place.

"What are you going to do if Wecks says you really had the shoes?"
questioned the son of the real estate dealer, when they were on the
way to the shoe store.

"But how can he say that when I haven't been near the place, Ben?"
returned Dave.

"I don't know. But I do know that people have sometimes had things
charged to them at the stores which other people got."

"Humph! Well, I sha'n't pay for any shoes that I did not get,"
answered our hero, simply.

Mr. Wecks's establishment was at the far end of the main street of
Coburntown; so the lads had half a dozen blocks to cover before they
reached the place.

"Hello, it's closed!" exclaimed Ben, as they came in sight of the
store; and he nodded in the direction of the show window, the curtain
of which was drawn down. The curtain on the door was also down, and on
the glass was pasted a sheet of note paper.

"Some sort of notice. I'll see what it is," answered Dave, and,
throwing the reins to Ben, he left the sleigh. Soon he was reading
what was written on the sheet of paper:

_Closed on account of death in the family._

WILLIAM WECKS.

"Somebody dead. That's too bad!" mused Dave. "I wonder who it can be?"
and then he passed into a barber shop next door to find out.

"It's Mr. Wecks's father--a very old man who lived back in the country
from here," explained the barber. "Mr. Wecks went up there last night,
and he doesn't expect to come back until after the funeral, which will
probably be day after to-morrow."

"I don't suppose his clerk is around?" questioned D