cigarettes and candy they wanted for once. I even believe he was
refusing Leon and Tip Slavin, who were urging him to join in with
them, when I saw him shake his head and skate away yesterday."

"Go on, Hugh, you've got me interested again; sure you have."

"While Nick wouldn't think of betraying his former associates, from
whose company he had broken away, at the same time he was smart
enough to see he would be placed under suspicion. And he must have
arranged this alibi so as to prove his positive innocence. If that
turns out so, it shows Nick to be a wise one."

Shortly afterwards the pair were trudging along the road outside the
corporation limits of the town of Scranton. It was some time before
the customary church hour, and they were almost certain to find the
old deacon at home, Hugh believed.

On the way they met a car coming along the road. In it was Chief
Wambold. Scranton had advanced far enough toward the dignity of
cityhood to have an auto for the police force, since the Chief often
had to go to neighboring towns on matters of business, taking a
prisoner, or getting one to fetch back.

He nodded to the boys as he shot past.

"Doesn't look very amiable, does he?" muttered Thad. "So I rather
guess he didn't get much satisfaction from the old deacon. But he's
awful stubborn, is our efficient head of police; and if he can find
any way to put that business on Nick's shoulders he will, take my
word for it."

Hugh only smiled as though he was not worrying about anything Chief
Wambold could accomplish. He had known the other to make several
"bone-plays" since coming to Scranton, and hence Hugh did not have a
very high opinion of the official's merits, though not doubting his
honesty of purpose at all.

After a short time they arrived at the smithy. Deacon Winslow lived
close to his shop. He was a big man, with the proverbial muscles of
the blacksmith; and for many years he had been looked upon as a
pillar in the church he attended.

Besides this he was reckoned a good man, who could always be counted
on to go out of his way to do a favor for anybody. The poor of
Scranton loved him better than they did anyone they knew. His acts
were often "hidden under a bushel," since he did not go around, as
Thad once said, "blowing his own horn, and advertising his goodness
as one would soft soap."

Strange as it might seem, Deacon Winslow had taken quite a fancy to
Nick Lang, and possibly he was the on