cause, Bob was sitting on a little iron bunk his cell contained, staring
about him as though unable to comprehend the situation.

After a few minutes he heard footsteps approaching down the corridor,
and then he was suddenly aroused from his reverie by a voice exclaiming:

"Well, kid, you came near making a good-sized bit of money."

"I don't call a dollar a very large sum," retorted Bob.

"A dollar? What do you mean?" exclaimed one of the two men whom Bob
beheld standing outside the cell door, staring at him through the bars.
"You had seven hundred and fifty dollars of that countryman's money,
didn't you?"

"I saw seven hundred and fifty dollars of his money put in the envelope,
but all I was to get for holding the envelope until those bad men
returned was to be one dollar--and they didn't even come back to pay me,
and now I haven't delivered the groceries, and Mr. Dardus will be very
angry."

"Oh, ho! So you are Len Dardus' kid, are you?" queried the other of
Bob's inquisitors.

"I'm not his kid, but he is my guardian," corrected the lad in a voice
so full of reproach that the two men could not refrain from smiling.

"Then you don't like Dardus?" smiled the one who had addressed him
first.