has returned from a fruitless cruise outside the
Heads. No news of value could be obtained
concerning the pirates who so daringly carried
off their safe at San Andreas last Tuesday night.
The lighthouse-keeper at the Farralones mentions
having sighted the two sloops Wednesday morning,
clawing offshore in the teeth of the gale. It is
supposed by shipping men that they perished in
the storm with, their ill-gotten treasure. Rumor
has it that, in addition to the ten thousand
dollars in gold, the safe contained papers of
great importance.

When Joe had read this he felt a great relief. It was evident no one had
been killed at San Andreas the night of the robbery, else there would
have been some comment on it in the paper. Nor, if they had had any clue
to his own whereabouts, would they have omitted such a striking bit of
information.

At the depot in San Francisco the curious onlookers were surprised to see
a boy clad conspicuously in sea-boots and sou'wester hail a cab and dash
away. But Joe was in a hurry. He knew his father's hours, and was fearful
lest he should not catch him before he went to lunch.

The office-boy scowled at him when he pushed open the door and asked to see
Mr. Bronson; nor could the head clerk, when summoned by this disreputable
intruder, recognize him.

"Don't you know me, Mr. Willis?"

Mr. Willis looked a second time. "Why, it 's Joe Bronson! Of all things
under the sun, where did you drop from? Go right in. Your father 's in
there."

Mr. Bronson stopped dictating to his stenographer and looked up. "Hello!
Where have you been?" he said.

"To sea," Joe answered demurely, not sure of just what kind of a reception
he was to get, and fingering his sou'wester nervously.

"Short trip, eh? How did you make out?"

"Oh, so-so." He had caught the twinkle in his father's eye and knew that
it was all clear sailing. "Not so bad--er--that is, considering."

"Considering?"

"Well, not exactly that; rather, it might have been worse, while it
could n't have been better."

"That 's interesting. Sit down." Then, turning to the stenographer:
"You may go, Mr. Brown, and--hum!--I won't need you any more to-day."

It was all Joe could do to keep from crying, so kindly and naturally had
his father received him, making him feel at once as if not the slightest
thing uncommon had occurred. It seemed as if he had just returned from
a vacation, or, man-grown, had come back from some busi