Branded

ting of

of police under the new city charter, came into the dingy little private banking room to arrest me that I began to re

o sentiment involved; at least, no sentimental sentiment. Years before, I, like most of the other town boys of my age, had taken my turn as Agatha's fetcher and carrier; but that was only a passing spasm-a gust of the calf-love which stirs up momentary whirlwinds in youthful hea

uivering like a hurt baby's when she was begging for something she was afraid she wasn't going to get. All through the school years she had been one of my classmates, and a majority of the town boys

ble at the bank, and saying to myself that I was going to be iron and steel and adamant; this when I might have known that I should be only putty in her hands. She met me on the porch, and made me sit with

for his own speculations should be published abroad; and I did. She was engaged to young Wheeland, son of the copper magnate Wheeland, of New York, and the wedding date was set. Black ruin was staring them all in the face, s

had taken the place in the bank's vault of the good, hard money of the depositors-well, I could see how easily the dreadful crisis would

nths he had been throwing good money after bad in a Western gold mine; not only his own money, but the bank's as well. At the long last the half-dozen sleepy directors, three of them retired farmers and the other three local merchants, had awakened to the fact that there was som

will have to know, and then everything will come to an end and I shall want to go and drown myself in the river. You are young and strong and brave, and you can live down a-an error of judgment"-she kept

way out for her father; and when she asked me how it could be done, I was besotted enough to explain how the mining-stock business had really passed through my hands-as it had in a pu

this brings me back to that other evening just twenty-four hours later; I in the bank, with the accusing account books spread out under the electric light on the high desk, and old John Runnels, looking nev

ad known me and my people ever since my father had moved in from the farm to give

e," he began soberly, laying a big-knuckled hand on my shoulder. "It all came out in the meetin'

could grab at it, and it saved

I gasped. "You

ailed, come mornin'-if that blamed security comp'ny that

e is nothing criminal against me, Uncle

shoulder and became a cauti

ind o' use. You done it yourself when you was up at Abel Geddis's house las' night. Two of the d'rectors, Tom Fitch and old man Withers, was settin

and then turn and hold your head under water until you drown when he is fighting for himself. It had been a trap, deliberately set and baited with Agatha. I remembered now that she had not spoken loud enough to be overheard; while I,

emed to have died inside of me, and I suppose the psychologists would say that it was the subconscious Bert Weyburn who put the books in the va

low men, and a boy's belief in the ultimate goodness of all women. It awoke a raging devil. It was all I could do to keep from throttling unsuspecting John Runnels as we tramped along side by side. I could have done it. I had inherited my father's

to hold in while Runnels was hurrying me through the station office and past the sleepy sergeant at the desk. But when the cell door had opened and closed for