IN SPITE of the exciting events of the night Tom fell asleep and slept soundly till morning. He had done his duty as a matter of course and it did not occur to him that he had done anything heroic till he read a paragraph in the paper the next day giving an account of the affair, in which he was spoken of in the most complimentary terms. The paragraph was headed “A Young Hero.”

It served as an excellent advertisement. The following day he had three times the number of visitors and twice as large sales as on any preceding one. In fact he was kept so hard at work that he was delighted about the middle of the afternoon to see his employer walk into the shop.

“I am glad to see you back, Mr. Burton,” said Tom.

“And I am glad to be back,” said his employer. “But what is all this I hear, Tom, about an attempted burglary?”

“Did you see the paragraph in the morning’s paper, sir?”

“Yes. I see you are reported to have acted like a young hero.”

Tom smiled.

“I didn’t know that I had done anything heroic till I read it in the paper,” he said.

“I like your modesty, Tom,” said Mr. Burton approvingly. “If the account is correct, however, I must say that you showed a good deal of pluck. That was a capital stratagem by which you trapped him.”

“He didn’t think so,” said Tom, laughing. “You have no idea how mad he was. I pretended to be a simpleton, and that put him off his guard.”

“By Jove, I don’t believe I should have managed the matter so well myself. Weren’t you afraid?”

“I wasn’t altogether comfortable in my mind,” said Tom, “for I wasn’t sure that my plan would work, but I can’t say I was frightened.”

“If you had been you wouldn’t have been able to act with so much coolness. How much money was there in the drawer?”

“Eight hundred dollars.”

“Is it possible? You must have been doing a good trade.”

“I think I have,” said Tom complacently.

“You have done as well as if I had been here. I will take care that you are rewarded for your fidelity.”

“It is enough if you are pleased,” said Tom.

“No, it isn’t. Such fidelity and bravery as yours deserve to be encouraged, for they are rare enough.”

Mr. Burton went to the drawer and counted the money. It exceeded eight hundred dollars, for Tom had been doing a good trade that day. In fact, it was close upon a thousand.

He took out a hundred dollars in gold and handed it to Tom.

“Here, Tom,” said he. “I give you a hundred dollars. It will show you that I am not ungrateful.”

“A hundred dollars!” said Tom, in astonishment. “You give it to me?”

“Yes, I don’t know but I ought to give you more.”

“No, no,” said Tom hastily. “You are very generous. But I don’t think I ought to take it.”

“Then be guided by me and accept it. I give it to you freely. Without you I should have lost eight times the amount. You not only have done your duty faithfully, but you risked your life in doing it.”

“I suppose I did,” said Tom, “but I didn’t think of that at the time.”

“Take the money, then, and I hope it may be of service to you.”

“Thank you, sir. The money will be of service to me, and since you insist upon it, I will accept it.”

“Understand, Tom, that in giving you this money I don’t feel that I have cancelled the obligation. Should another opportunity occur, I shall do what I can to promote your interests.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Tom.

The consciousness of having done one’s duty faithfully, and having that service appreciated, is certainly pleasant, and Tom went about his duties from this time with even greater alacrity than before, feeling that he had made a friend of his employer.

It was certainly a great change from the character which he had previously sustained as a bully, and an arrogant, imperious boy. The truth was that he had been injured by his prosperity.

When, through circumstances over which he had no control, he had lost his fortune, and been reduced to comparative poverty, he found himself for the first time filling a useful place in the world.

His new position required courtesy and a disposition to oblige, and he was wise enough to see it. So he had improved in a marked manner under the discipline of adversity, and no longer deserved the appellation once given him of “Bully of the Village.”

So far as his situation went, Tom had nothing to complain of. Rather he had reason to congratulate himself on his success. Coming to California, wholly without friends or acquaintances, and with very slender means, he had certainly been fortunate, and had deserved his good fortune. But he did not forget that he came to San Francisco with a special mission, and he had not as yet taken a single step toward fulfilling this mission.

He had promised Mr. Armstrong to look up the clerk who had absconded with so large a sum of money, and precipitated his downfall. All that he had done to redeem this promise was to watch the persons whom he met, and notice their personal peculiarities, in the hope some day of identifying Samuel Lincoln.

But as yet no one had been seen at all corresponding to the merchant’s description.

“What more can I do? What more ought I to do?” thought Tom. “If I only knew, I would do it. But it may be that this is really a wild-goose chase. There seems as little chance of finding this man as of finding a needle in a haymow.”

Tom was right. He had absolutely no clew by which to guide himself. He would indeed know this man if he came across him, but what was the chance of such a meeting? Surely, very little.

Tom begun to think he had been altogether too sanguine in the matter. He had set about the quest with all a boy’s sanguine ardor, forgetting, or rather leaving out of the account, the difficulties in the way. But unable to tell what to do, he continued to stay on in Mr. Burton’s employment, and in so doing he was unconsciously doing the very best thing he could.

One day, about three months after he had entered upon his place, two customers entered the shop, and expressed a desire to look at some clothing.

The spokesman was a tall, thin man, of perhaps forty. From him Tom’s glance wandered to his companion, and his heart suddenly gave a great bound.

He was rather short, stout, dark-complexioned, with a cast in his left eye, and on the back of his left hand there was a scar.

Every point of his appearance tallied with the description of the absconding clerk.