"
"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 Dick.
"Very well. Write an order for the amount."
Before doing so, Dick, who now that he saw Travis in the power of
the law began to pity him, went up to the officer, and said,--
"Won't you let him go? I've got my bank-book back, and I don't want
anything done to him.
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