"I'll catch the young scamp!" gasped Mr. Finbrink, making a rush
for the front door, which he pulled open.

Pausing an instant, he heard the sound of running feet in the
distance.

"The young scoundrel went west, and he has a good start," grunted
Mr. Finbrink, as he gave chase in that direction. "Hang it, I
don't believe I can catch him!"

That guess proved well founded. After running a short distance
Mr. Finbrink halted. He had not caught sight of the fugitive,
nor could he now hear the running steps.

"I wonder how many panes of glass the young scamp broke?" muttered
the irate Mr. Finbrink.

Retracing his steps quickly, Mr. Finbrink halted in front of his
house, scanning the windows. Not a crack in a window pane could
he discern, which was not remarkable, in view of the fact that
no panes of glass had been broken.

"I need a lantern," Mr. Finbrink said to himself, and went inside
the house. Soon afterwards he came out with a lighted lantern,
and began his inspection. Three windows showed no sign of damage.
Nor did the fourth. Then Mr. Finbrink chanced to glance down
at the ground. There rested the brick, the fragments of the broken
bottle lying around it.

"Say, what's that? What's that?" ejaculated Mr. Finbrink, much