Suppose we go
over the whole situation again?" and they fell to talking stocks:
bonds, securities, mortgages and interest, until the youth, interested
as he was in the situation, could follow it no longer.

"Better go to bed, Tom," advised his father. "You can't help us any,
and we have many details to go over."

The lad reluctantly consented, and he was soon dreaming that he was in
his electric auto, trying to pull up a thousand pound lump of gold from
the bottom of the sea. He awoke to find the bedclothes in a lump on his
chest, and, removing them, fell into a deep slumber.

When the young inventor awoke the next morning, Mrs. Baggert told him
that his father and Mr. Damon had risen nearly an hour before, had
partaken of a hearty breakfast, and departed.

"They told me to tell you they were at the bank," said the housekeeper.

"Did Mr. Pendergast stay all night?" inquired Tom.

"I heard some one go away about two o'clock this morning," replied the
housekeeper. "I don't know who it was."

"They must have had a long session," thought Tom, as he began on his
bacon, eggs and coffee. "I'll take a run down to the bank in my
electric in a little while."

The car was still in rather crude shape, outwardly, but the mechanism
was now almost perfect. Tom charged the batteries well before starting
put.

The youth had no sooner come in sight of the old Shopton bank, to
distinguish it from the Second National, which Mr. Foger had started,
than he was aware that something unusual had occurred. There was quite
a crowd about it, and more persons were constantly arriving to swell
the throng.

"What's the matter?" asked Tom, of one of the few police officers of
which Shopton boasted, though the lad did not need to be told.

"Run on the bank," was the brief answer. "It's failed."

Tom felt a pang of disappointment. Somehow, he had hoped that his
father and his friends might have been able to stave off ruin. As he
approached nearer Tom was made aware that the crowd was in an ugly mood.

"Why don't they open the doors and give us our money?" cried one
excited woman. "It's ours! I worked hard for mine, an' now they want to
keep it from us. I wish I'd put it in the new bank."

"Yes, that's the best place," added another. "That Mr. Foger has lots
of money."

"I can see the hand of Andy's father, and that of Mr. Berg, at work
here," thought Tom, "They have spread rumors of the bank's trouble, and
hope to profit by it. I wis