“Oh! Nothing much. One of those bonds was a counterfeit, that’s all.”

“Counterfeit?”

“I said it.”

“And you sent me to sell it?”

“I suppose I should have told you. You’d have done it just the same. Anyway, you would have, had I told you everything. But if I had told you, that would have made you nervous and spoiled everything. I’m a marked man. I couldn’t go myself. How was I to know that you’d go and get branded in that fashion?

“Ho, well,” he continued after a moment’s reflection, “it’s all right, I’m sure. The bond was perfect except for one trifling detail. It was a shade lighter print than those made by Uncle Sam, and, after all, that’s really nothing. Who knows but the Government printer failed to ink his rollers well some morning? I know it was a counterfeit, though.”

He bent over and wrote a name in the sand, then quickly erased it.

Johnny had read it. “Who’s Black McCree?” he asked promptly.

“He,” Pant whispered, “is the slickest forger that ever lived, and the worst crook. We’re going to get him, you and I, Johnny. And he’s with the circus.”

“Did—did you ever see him?” Johnny demanded.

“I can’t be sure. Perhaps. But we will, Johnny, we will!”

For a moment they sat there in silence; then Johnny arose and without a word, walked away.

CHAPTER VII NO BOX-A DA BEAR

There was one particular part of the show that afternoon which Johnny was anxious to see. So anxious was he, indeed, that even the danger and mystery connected with the sale of the counterfeit Liberty Bonds were crowded from his mind. So intent was he upon seeing it, that he half neglected his duties, and received for the first time, directly upon his cheek, a sharp cut from Millie’s whip. Even that failed to make him angry. Once Millie’s act was over, and he had rushed the dapple grays to their stable, he dashed out of the horse tent, through the assembly grounds, under the canvas wall of the big top and found himself at last beneath the bleachers in a very good position to see what was 

 Prev. P 41/98 next