ong, Fred. You're sure the handy boy when it
comes to making a feller see things in a new light. But I still believe
it's old Black Joe, the little villain!"

After he had gone, the matter was often in Fred's mind, and he really
began to grow quite excited while thinking about it.

"It may be stretching things a whole lot to believe a bird could be so
smart as to take those stones," he said to himself, seriously; "but
anyhow, the opportunity was there before Black Joe, if he wanted to try
it. I remember that when the old lady showed me those opals, and told
me how they were taken from a mine in Mexico where she had sunk a heap
of money, she put them back on the cabinet shelf, and they were just
lying in a little bowl with some other curiosities she had. Yes, Black
Joe could fly up there, and pick out what he wanted, sure enough."

Somehow the thought was still strong in Fred's mind when, later in the
morning, he started out to go over to see what Sid Wells might be
doing. And it even took him out of his way, so that instead of making
his usual short cut across lots to his chum's house, he passed along
the street where Miss Muster (the boys called her Miss Mustard on
account of her peppery temper) lived.

He even turned his head while passing, and looked in toward the rather
expensive building (for a small place like Riverport) where the old
maid lived alone with her colored "mammy" and her several pets.

He could see the big bulldog that was chained to his kennel, placed
under the windows of the room the maiden lady slept in. Yes, Beauty was
asleep on the top of his box then, curled up as if not "caring whether
school kept or not."

"Boy! boy, come over here! I want you!"

Fred at first thought that it was the talking bird calling to him in
this way, for he had heard Black Joe rattle along just like an educated
poll parrot. Then he recognized the shrill tones of Miss Muster; and at
the same moment caught sight of the maiden lady.

She was standing on her broad porch, and beckoning to him.

Being close to the gate, he pressed the latch, and passed through into
the yard, where there were a great many flowers. Possibly Fred felt a
queer little thrill as he walked toward the porch, where Miss Muster
awaited him. He remembered the proposal Bristles had made, and which he
had seen fit to turn down.

The old lady was peering at him through her glasses.

"Oh! you are the boy who was in here with my--er--nephew that