etter keep a civil tongue in your head, or
I'll jug you as it is. I've enough against you."

"Why don't you do it, then?" was Tom's defiant question; "I've learned
enough during the last few minutes to understand my rights, and if you
think I don't, now's the time to test it."

The officer went out muttering all sorts of things; and Tom, turning to
his employer, his breast heaving with indignation, said,--

"They have been plotting against me ever since I've been on the road. They
went with all kinds of stories to you, and now they've been trying to make
it appear that I am in the counterfeit business."

"But there must have been something tangible, or that detective would not
have come here with the charge."

"There was something;" and thereupon Tom told the story of the six shining
quarters.

His employer was angered, for he saw through it all; and from the
description of the donor, he recognized a worthless scamp who had been
discharged for stealing some time before Tom went on the route. The
detective was sent for, and the case laid before him. That night Mr. Dick
Horton, who made the charge, was arrested, and in his rooms were found
such proofs against him as a counterfeiter that, a few months later, he
went to Sing Sing for ten years.

For a time succeeding this incident Tom was left undisturbed in the
pursuit of his business, the occurrence becoming pretty generally known
and causing much sympathy for him.

It was about a month subsequent that Tom missed his afternoon train down
the river, and took another, which left later, not reaching New York till
late at night.

[Illustration: It was a fierce drive.]

As there was nothing for him to do, the train being in the hands of
another newsboy, he sat down in the smoking-car, which was only moderately
filled. Directly in front was a man who, he judged from his dress, was a
Texan drover, or some returning Californian He was leaning back in the
corner of his seat, with his mouth open and his eyes shut, in a way to
suggest that he was asleep.

Seated next him was an individual who looked very much like the Italian
who had shoved his head into the door of Tom's room some months before.
This foreigner was watching the Californian--if such he was--as a cat
watches a mouse.

"I believe he means to rob him," was Tom's conclusion, who, without being
suspected by the scoundrel, was taking mental notes of the whole
proceeding.

The supposition was confirmed with