d that circumstances are against me," Fremont said,
presently. "It looks bad for me, but I didn't do it. I came here to
accompany Mr. Cameron home, and found everything just as you see it
now."

A smile of disbelief flitted over the other's face, but he did not
speak.

"I hadn't been in here half a minute when you came in," Fremont went
on. "I had just switched on the lights when I heard a noise in here
and there Mr. Cameron lay. I was going to the 'phone when you entered."

"Tell it to the judge," the other said, grimly.

Fremont dropped into a chair and put a hand to his head. Of course.
There would be a judge, and a jury, and a crowded court room, and
columns in the newspapers. He had read of such cases, and knew how
reporters convicted the accused in advance of action by the courts.

"Where did you get that badge?" the intruder demanded, stepping forward
as Fremont lifted his arm. "The arrow-head badge with the lettered
scroll, I mean."

"I earned it," replied Fremont, covering the scroll with one hand. "Can
you tell me," he continued, "what the letters on the scroll say?"

"Be prepared," was the reply.

"Be prepared for what?"

"To do your duty, and to face danger in order to help others."

"What is the name of your patrol?"

"The Wolf. And your's is the Black Bear. I've heard a lot about the
boys of that patrol, a lot that was good."

"And never anything that was bad?"

"Not a thing."

"Well then," said Fremont, extending his hand, which the other hastened
to take, "you've got to help me now. You've got to stand by me. It is
your duty."

"If you belong to the Black Bear Patrol," began the boy, "and have all
the fine things you want--as the members of that patrol do--what did
you want to go an' do this thing for? What's your name?"

"George Fremont. What is yours?"

"Jimmie McGraw," was the reply. "I'm second assistant to the private
secretary to the woman who scrubs here nights. She'll be docking me
if I don't get busy," he added, with a mischievous twinkle in his keen
gray eyes. "Or, worse, she'll be comin' in here an' findin' out what's
goin' on."

"Why didn't one of you come in here before I got to the top of the
stairs?" asked Fremont, illogically. "Why did you just happen in here
in time to accuse me of doing this thing?"

"I was just beginnin' on this floor," the boy replied. "I wish now
that I hadn't come in here at all. You know what I've got to do?"

"You mea