it, sah," said the restaurant man, thinking
only of the extra fifteen cents he was to receive.

"Take out half a dollar and have a cigar on me," continued Baxter
magnanimously.

"Yes, sah; thank you, sah!" said the man.

He fumbled around, and in a minute counted out nineteen dollars and
a half in change. Pocketing the amount, the bully walked out, mounted
his horse once more and rode away.

"Nice chap, to pay forty-five cents and then treat me to a cigar,"
thought the restaurant keeper. "Wish I had that sort coming in every
day."

He lit the cigar and smoked it with a relish, particularly so as it
had not cost him anything. He put the twenty-dollar bill away, to
use when he should go to a neighboring city to buy some household
goods, two days later.

When he went to buy his things, they came to twenty-six dollars, and
he passed over the new twenty-dollar bill, and also an old one received
some weeks before.

"I'll have to get change at the bank," said the store keeper, and
left his place to do so. In a few minutes he came back in a hurry.

"See here," he cried. "They tell me one of these bills is a counterfeit."

"A counterfeit!" gasped the restaurant man.

"So the bank cashier says."

"Which bill?"

"The new one."

"You don't mean it! Why, I took that bill in only a couple of days ago."

"Then you got stuck, Mr. Golden."

"Is he sure it's a counterfeit?"

"Dead certain of it. He says it's rather a clever imitation, and that
a number of them are afloat around these parts. Where did you get it?"

"A stranger gave it to me," groaned the restaurant keeper. "I thought
he was mighty smooth. He treated me to a cigar! I wish I had him here!"

"You had better watch out for him."

"Sure I will. But I suppose he'll know enough to keep out of my way,"
added the man who had been victimized.

CHAPTER XI

A MIDNIGHT SCARE

The Rovers reached Cottonton without catching sight of Dan Baxter
again, nor did they locate him while stopping at the town.

"He knows enough to keep out of our way," remarked Dick. "Even now
he may be watching every move we make."

They did not remain in Cottonton long, and that night found them once
more on a trail leading to another patch of timber. All were in
excellent spirits, and Hans enlivened the time by singing a song in
his broken English in a manner which convulsed them all.

"Hans would make his fortune on the variety stage," remarked Fred.
"His manner is too fun