MR. ARMSTRONG sat in his counting-room deep in thought. An arrangement had been made with his creditors by which he was allowed to go on. It was his ambition to repay them their confidence by paying all claims upon him dollar for dollar. But he found it up-hill work. His resources were contracted, and success was, to say the least, problematical. This was the reason of his present abstraction. He was anxiously considering what measures to adopt in order to facilitate the attainment of the end he had in view.

“If I only had the eighty thousand dollars’ worth of securities that scoundrelly clerk robbed me of,” he said to himself, “all would be well. I could clear off all liabilities to-day, and start afresh with the most encouraging chances of success. But I suppose there isn’t one chance in a hundred of my ever recovering a cent from that source.”

Just then an intimate friend, Hugh Osborn, entered.

“You seem in a brown study, Armstrong,” he said.

“Yes; I was thinking about my affairs.”

“Your creditors have allowed you to go on?”

“Yes, and I want to justify their confidence.”

“Oh, you’ll do that.”

“I hope so, but business is dull, and it’s hard work getting back to my old position. If I only had the money Lincoln abstracted, all would be well.”

“What efforts have you made to recover it?”

“I have informed the police, but thus far I have heard nothing.”

“Have you done nothing further?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Armstrong, hesitating. “I have sent a special messenger to California to hunt up the defaulter.”

“Come, that’s enterprising. Who is your special messenger?”

“You will laugh at me if I tell you.”

“Why should I?”

“Because my messenger is a boy of sixteen.”

“You are not in earnest, surely?”

“Yes, I am.”

“What could induce you to employ a mere boy?”

“He is one of my creditors—Tom Temple. He volunteered to go, and asked for no allowance for expenses.”

“Very kind, no doubt, but you might as well have sent nobody.”

“You may be right. Still Tom is a bright, smart lad.”

“I hope you don’t base any very extravagant hopes on this mission.”

“I never have been very sanguine, Hugh, for the mission presents difficulties even to man. Still I would rather trust Tom than some men.”

“My old friend, you are foolish to expect anything from a boy of sixteen. Such boys are confident, no doubt; it is a characteristic of that age, but what could one do against a crafty rogue?”

“You may be perfectly right. Still you wouldn’t speak of Tom with such contempt if you knew him. He will make a very smart man.”

“I see he has managed to impress you with a belief in his ability.”

“It is true. I have seldom met a boy who seemed so plucky and self-reliant.”

“That may all be, but he will fail in his mission. Excuse my expressing myself so positively, but it isn’t worth while to deceive yourself. Face all the difficulties of your situation, and form no groundless hopes.”

The merchant was about to reply, when the door of the counting-room opened, and with an elastic step in walks our hero.

“Tom Temple!” ejaculated the merchant in amazement.

“Yes, Mr. Armstrong, it is I,” said Tom. “I am glad you haven’t forgotten me.”

“So this is the young man you sent on a wild-goose chase, Armstrong?” said Hugh Osborn, smiling.

Tom turned toward the speaker.

“Perhaps it was a wild-goose chase,” he said quietly, “but it is possible to catch wild geese sometimes.”

“What do you mean, Tom?” inquired Mr. Armstrong in excitement.

“I mean this, that I’ve recovered the bonds, and here they are!”

And to the astonishment of both merchants, Tom produced the belt and drew out the contents.

“As I live, they are all here!” exclaimed Mr. Armstrong.

“Impossible!” ejaculated Hugh Osborn, arching his brows.

“Quite possible,” said Tom. “Don’t you believe your eyes?”

“What do you say now, Hugh, to the absurdity of employing a boy of sixteen in such a commission? Very foolish, no doubt, but here are the bonds!”

“Did you recover those bonds yourself, young man?” asked Hugh Osborn.

“I rather think I did,” said Tom; “that is, with the help of a highwayman. You see I needed a little assistance.”

“Give us the story, Tom,” said Mr. Armstrong.

So Tom told the story, which was listened to with astonishment by the two merchants.

“What do you say now, Hugh?” demanded Mr. Armstrong in triumph.

“Say? I say that if this young man wants a situation, I’ll engage him this very day to enter my counting-room.”

“I think he ought to give me the preference. What do you say, Tom? Will you accept a clerkship at a hundred dollars a month?”

“Thank you, gentlemen, both,” said Tom, bowing, “but the fact is, I’ve adopted a rich uncle, and I can’t make any arrangements without consulting him.”