tumbled on to his cot in the stock room, where he spent the rest of
the night trying to rescue Amy from her father, who assumed the shape
of a hardware dragon, with gold eyes, and had imprisoned the young
lady in a log cabin near the river, beneath a hill upon which grew a
pine tree tipped with fire, while a lean hound sat at the water's edge
and howled.




CHAPTER VI


Uncle Bobbie Wicks pulled down the top of his desk and heard the lock
click with a long sigh of satisfaction, for a glance at his large,
old-fashioned hunting-case watch told him that it was nearly eleven
o'clock. It was a dismal, dreary, rainy night; just the sort of a night
to make a man thank God that he had a home; and those who had homes
to go to were already there, except a few business men, who like Mr.
Wicks, were obliged to be out on work of especial importance.

Locking the rear door of the office and getting hastily into his rain
coat, the old gentleman took his hat and umbrella from the rack and
stepped out into the storm. As he was trudging along through the wet,
his mind still on business, a gleam of light from the window of Udell's
printing office caught his eye. "Hello!" he said to himself; "George
is working late tonight; guess I'll run in and see if he's got that
last batch of bill-heads fixed yet; we'll need 'em tomorrow morning.
Howdy, George," he said, a few seconds later; and then stopped, for
it was not Udell, but Dick, who was bending over the stone; and in