scoundrels a lesson!"

Tom quickly darted hack to the extreme rear of the
building. There was a scuffle, and the next minute Tom cried
out:

"What are you doing here?"

"Ha! I beg your pardon," replied a voice. "I am looking
for Mr. Barton Swift."

"My father," remarked Tom. "But that's a queer place to
look for him. He's up front. Father, here's a man who wishes
to see you," he called.

"Yes, I strolled in, and seeing no one about I went to the
rear of the place," the voice went on. "I hope I haven't
transgressed."

"We were busy on the other side of the shop, I guess,"
replied Tom, and he looked suspiciously at the man who
emerged from the darkness into the light from a window. "I
beg your pardon for grabbing you the way I did," went on the
lad, "but I thought you were one of a gang of men we've been
having trouble with."

"Oh, that's all right," continued the man easily. "I know
Mr. Swift, and I think he will remember me. Ah, Mr. Swift,
how do you do?" he added quickly, catching sight of Tom's
father, who, with Mr. Sharp, was coming to meet the lad.