It was the time of his greatest
harvest. He accordingly repaired to his usual place of business,
succeeded in obtaining six customers, which yielded him sixty cents.
He then went to a restaurant, and got some breakfast. It was now
half-past nine, and Dick, feeling that it wouldn't do to be late,
left his box in charge of Johnny Nolan, and made his way to the
bank.
The officers had not yet arrived, and Dick lingered on the outside,
waiting till they should come. He was not without a little
uneasiness, fearing that Travis might be as prompt as himself, and
finding him there, might suspect something, and so escape the snare.
But, though looking cautiously up and down the street, he could
discover no traces of the supposed thief. In due time ten o'clock
struck, and immediately afterwards the doors of the bank were thrown
open, and our hero entered.
As Dick had been in the habit of making a weekly visit for the last
nine months, the cashier had come to know him by sight.
"You're early, this morning, my lad," he said, pleasantly. "Have you
got some more money to deposit? You'll be getting rich, soon."
"I don't know about that," said Dick. "My bank-book's been stole."
"Stolen!" echoed the cashier. "That's unfortunate. Not so bad as it
might be, though. The thief can't collect the money."
"That's what I came to see about," said Dick. "I was afraid he might
have got it already.
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