rote
the order, signing his name "Dick Hunter," having observed that name
on the outside of the book.

"Your name is Dick Hunter, then?" said the cashier, taking the
paper, and looking at the thief over his spectacles.

"Yes," said Travis, promptly.

"But," continued the cashier, "I find Hunter's age is put down on
the bank-book as fourteen. Surely you must be more than that."

Travis would gladly have declared that he was only fourteen; but,
being in reality twenty-three, and possessing a luxuriant pair of
whiskers, this was not to be thought of. He began to feel uneasy.

"Dick Hunter's my younger brother," he said. "I'm getting out the
money for him."

"I thought you said your own name was Dick Hunter," said the cashier.

"I said my name was Hunter," said Travis, ingeniously. "I didn't
understand you."

"But you've signed the name of Dick Hunter to this order. How is
that?" questioned the troublesome cashier.

Travis saw that he was getting himself into a tight place; but his
self-possession did not desert him.

"I thought I must give my brother's name," he answered.

"What is your own name?"

"Henry Hunter."

"Can you bring any one to testify that the statement you are
making is correct?"

"Yes, a dozen if you like," said Travis, boldly. "Give me the book,
and I'll come back this afternoon. I didn't think there'd be such a
fuss about getting out a little money."

"Wait a moment. Why don't your brother come himself?"

"Because he's sick. He's down with the measles," said Travis.

Here the cashier signed to Dick to rise and show himself. Our hero
accordingly did so.

"You will be glad to find that he has recovered," said the cashier,
pointing to Dick.

With an exclamation of anger and dismay, Travis, who saw the game
was up, started for the door, feeling that safety made such a course
prudent. But he was too late. He found himself confronted by a burly
policeman, who seized him by the arm, saying, "Not so fast, my man.
I want you."

"Let me go," exclaimed Travis, struggling to free himself.

"I'm sorry I can't oblige you," said the officer. "You'd better not
make a fuss, or I may have to hurt you a little."

Travis sullenly resigned himself to his fate, darting a look of rage
at Dick, whom he considered the author of his present misfortune.

"This is your book," said the cashier, handing back his rightful
property to our hero. "Do you wish to draw out any money?"

"Two dollars," said Di