it being then 3.15 A.M., yawned his way to the portable shack.

He slept heavily, except for a brief period when the rain let up. In the
morning--which term seasoned newspaper men apply to twelve noon and the
hour or two thereafter--he inquired of Banneker, "Any tramps around
here?"

"No," answered the agent, "Not often. There were a pair yesterday
morning, but they went on."

"Some one was fussing around the place about first light. I was too
sleepy to get up. I yipped and they beat it. I don't think they got
inside."

Banneker investigated. Nothing was missing from within the shack. But
outside he made a distressing discovery.

His molasses pie was gone.




CHAPTER IV


"To accomplish a dessert as simple and inexpensive as it is tasty,"
prescribes The Complete Manual of Cookery, p. 48, "take one cup of thick
molasses--" But why should I infringe a copyright when the culinary
reader may acquire the whole range of kitchen lore by expending
eighty-nine cents plus postage on 39 T 337? Banneker had faithfully