“Thet Mr. Davis I reckon!  He counted the money last, an’ now it’s gone!”

“I saw Mr. Davis a minute ago.”

“Where?”

“Around the corner, walking as fast as he could.”

“He’s got my money!  Oh, I must catch him!”

“I’ll help you,” answered Joe, with vigor.  “I thought he looked like a slick one,” he added.

He led the way and Josiah Bean came behind.  The old farmer looked as if he was ready to drop with fright.  The thought of losing his wife’s money was truly horrifying.

“Mirandy won’t never forgive me!” he groaned.  “Oh, say, boy, we’ve got to catch that rascal!”

“If we can,” added our hero.

He had noted the direction taken by the swindler, and now ran across the street and into a side thoroughfare leading to where a new building was being put up.

Here, from a workman, he learned that the sharper had boarded a street car going south.  He hailed the next car and both he and the old farmer got aboard.

“This ain’t much use,” said Josiah Bean, with quivering lips.  “We dunno how far he took himself to.”

“Let us trust to luck to meet him,” said Joe.

They rode for a distance of a dozen blocks and then the car came to a halt, for there was a blockade ahead.

“We may as well get off,” said our hero.  “He may be in one of the forward cars.”

They alighted and walked on, past half a dozen cars.  Then our hero gave a cry of triumph.

“There he is!” he said, and pointed to the swindler, who stood on a car platform, gazing anxiously ahead.

CHAPTER XVI.

A MATTER OF SIX HUNDRED DOLLARS.

“Say, you, give me my money!”

Such were Josiah Bean’s words, as he rushed up to Henry Davis and grabbed the swindler by the shoulder.

The slick-looking individual was thoroughly startled, for he had not dreamed that the countryman would get on his track so soon.  He turned and looked at the man and also at Joe, and his face fell.

“Wha—­what are you talking about?” he stammered.

“You know well enough what I am talking about,” answered Josiah Bean, wrathfully.  “I want my money, every cent o’ it,—­an’ you are a-goin’ to jail!”

“Sir, you are making a sad mistake,” said the swindler, slowly.  “I know nothing of you or your money.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Make him get off the car,” put in Joe.

“Boy, what have you to do with this?” asked the swindler, turning bitterly to our hero.

“Not much perhaps,” answered Joe.  “But I’d like to see justice done.”

“I want that money,” went on the countryman, doggedly.  “Come off the car.”

He caught the swindler tighter than ever and made him walk to the sidewalk.  By this time a crowd of people began to collect.

“What’s the trouble here?” asked one gentleman.