dick halliard was kept unusually late at mr. hunter’s store that evening, for the busy season was approaching, when the merchant was obliged to ask for extra work at the hands of his employees. dick showed such aptitude at figures that he often gave valuable aid to the bookkeeper, one of the old-fashioned, plodding kind, who found the expanding accounts too much for him to keep well in hand.

reaching his home, he was met by his mother, who always awaited his coming, no matter how late he might be. a light never failed to be shining from the window for the only son, and a warm welcome and a delicious meal were sure to greet him.

after kissing his mother and taking his seat at the table, he glanced around and asked: “did father become tired of sitting up for me?”

“he retired some time ago; he wished to wait, but i advised him not to do so.”

the lad paused in his meal, and looking at his mother, who was trying to hide her agitation, asked:

“why do you try to keep anything from me? father is worse, as i can see from you face.”

“yes,” replied the mother, the tears filling her eyes; “he is not as well to-night as usual.”

dick shoved back his chair.

“i will go for dr. armstrong; it’s too bad that he could not have been called long ago.”

“i would have gone, but i feared to leave him alone, and we were expecting you every minute. you must eat something and swallow a cup of tea.”

poor dick’s vigorous appetite was gone, but partly to please his parent, and partly because he knew it was best, he ate and drank a little. then he ran up-stairs to see his father, who was suffering from a fevered condition which made him slightly delirious. the brave boy spoke a few cheerful words, and then, promising to return as soon as he could, hastened down-stairs and donned his hat and coat.

“you can go quite fast on your bicycle, dick,” said the mother, “and you know we shall count the minutes till the doctor comes.”

“you can depend on me to do my best; i will take my bicycle, though it isn’t very far.”

he had kissed her good-night, and was out-of-doors. the machine had been left just within the gate, where he always leaned it against the trunk of a short, thick cedar. he advanced to take it, as he had done so many times, but to his dismay it was gone.

the door had closed behind him before he had made the discovery, so that his mother knew nothing of his loss.

dick was dumbfounded. nothing of the kind had ever befallen him before. he had been in the house less than fifteen minutes, yet during that interval his property had vanished.

“some one must have followed me,” was his conclusion, “and while i was in the house stole my bicycle.”

had the circumstances been different, he would have set a most vigorous investigation on foot, for he prized the wheel above all his possessions; but, with his sick parent up-stairs, the minutes were too precious to be spent in looking after anything else.

“i’ll find out who took that,” he muttered, as he passed through the gate to the highway, “and when i do, he’ll have to settle with me.”

he studied the ground closely in the hope of discovering the trail, as it may be called, of his machine, but the light of the moon was too faint to show any signs, unless in the middle of the highway, and if the thief had followed that direction, he took care to keep at the side of the road, where there was a hard path over which he could readily travel.

it was three-fourths of a mile to the home of dr. armstrong, who was one of those hard-worked humanitarians—a country physician—subject to call at all hours of the day and night, with many of them requiring a journey of several miles during the worst seasons of the year.

dick was fortunate in not only finding him at home, but in his office. he had received a summons to a point beyond mr. halliard’s, and was in the act of mounting his horse to ride thither. since he had to pass the house of dick on his way, he promised to go at once, so that not a minute would be lost.

the brief interview with the physician was satisfactory in the highest degree to the youth, for the medical man explained that, singular as it might seem, the fever which he described as affecting his parent was a very favorable sign. it showed that the remedies already used were doing the work intended, and there was more ground for hope of his ultimate recovery than before.

with this burden lifted from his heart, the boy’s thoughts returned to his bicycle.

“i would give a good deal to know who took it,” he murmured, as he set out on his return; “i never knew of such a thing. why didn’t i think of it!” he suddenly asked himself, as he recalled that he had a little rubber match-safe in his pocket.

bringing it forth, he struck one of the bits of wood, and shading the tiny flames from the slight breeze, stooped over and attentively examined the road and paths at each side.

he discovered nothing to reward his search, and resumed his walk homeward. “the thief must have taken the other road,” he concluded, walking more rapidly.

only a little way farther he came to the big stretch of woods which surrounded the immense reservoir of water behind the dam that was built years before. dick was familiar with the locality, and knew of a path which left the main highway and entered the woods, breaking into two routes, one of which led to the mill-pond, while the other, if followed, conducted a person to the wooded hilly region beyond.

upon reaching the point where the path turned off from the highway, dick again paused and struck a second match. this was for the purpose of studying the ground, for somehow or other he had formed the belief that the thief would take to the woods with the property, until he could find time to dispose of it without attracting attention.

there it was!

the ground, although quite hard, showed the imprint of the large and small wheel distinctly. upon turning into the wood the change of direction necessarily threw the wheels out of alignment for a short distance, and there could be no mistake about the prints that were left in the earth.

“there’s where the thief went!” exclaimed the lad, straightening up and striving to peer into the impenetrable gloom; “but he must have walked and pushed the bicycle, for no one would dare to ride through there in the nighttime. i don’t go home till i find out something about the rogue that took it from the front of our house.”

it was a source of regret that, in his haste to go to the physician, he forgot the precaution he had resolved to take, whenever he found it necessary to go abroad at night. his father was the owner of a fine revolver that had lain in the house for weeks without being used. if the youth had it with him now, he would have felt double the assurance that was his when he began making his way along the forest path. nevertheless, his resolution to recover his property was none the less because of his forgetfulness.