Dick Halliard was kept unusually late at Mr. Hunter’s store that evening, for the busy season was approaching, when the merchant was obliged to ask for extra work at the hands of his employees. Dick showed such at figures that he often gave valuable aid to the bookkeeper, one of the old-fashioned, kind, who found the expanding accounts too much for him to keep well in hand.  
Reaching his home, he was met by his mother, who always awaited his coming, no matter how late he might be. A light never failed to be shining from the window for the only son, and a warm welcome and a delicious meal were sure to greet him.
 
After kissing his mother and taking his seat at the table, he glanced around and asked: “Did father become tired of sitting up for me?”
 
“He some time ago; he wished to wait, but I advised him not to do so.”
 
The lad paused in his meal, and looking at his mother, who was trying to hide her , asked:
 
“Why do you try to keep anything from me? Father is worse, as I can see from you face.”
 
“Yes,” replied the mother, the tears filling her eyes; “he is not as well to-night as usual.”
 
Dick shoved back his chair.
 
“I will go for Dr. Armstrong; it’s too bad that he could not have been called long ago.”
 
“I would have gone, but I feared to leave him alone, and we were expecting you every minute. You must eat something and swallow a cup of tea.”
 
Poor Dick’s vigorous appetite was gone, but partly to please his parent, and partly because he knew it was best, he ate and drank a little. Then he ran up-stairs to see his father, who was suffering from a fevered condition which made him slightly . The brave boy a few cheerful words, and then, to return as soon as he could, hastened down-stairs and donned his hat and coat.
 
“You can go quite fast on your bicycle, Dick,” said the mother, “and you know we shall count the minutes till the doctor comes.”
 
“You can depend on me to do my best; I will take my bicycle, though it isn’t very far.”
 
He had kissed her good-night, and was out-of-doors. The machine had been left just within the gate, where he always leaned it against the trunk of a short, thick . He advanced to take it, as he had done so many times, but to his dismay it was gone.
 
The door had closed behind him before he had made the discovery, so that his mother knew nothing of his loss.
 
Dick was dumbfounded. Nothing of the kind had ever befallen him before. He had been in the house less than fifteen minutes, yet during that his property had vanished.
 
“Some one must have followed me,” was his conclusion, “and while I was in the house stole my bicycle.”
 
Had the circumstances been different, he would have set a most vigorous on foot, for he prized the wheel above all his possessions; but, with his sick parent up-stairs, the minutes were too precious to be spent in looking after anything else.
 
“I’ll find out who took that,” he muttered, as he passed through the gate to the highway, “and when I do, he’ll have to settle with me.”
 
He studied the ground closely in the hope of discovering the trail, as it may be called, of his machine, but the light of the moon was too faint to show any signs, unless in the middle of the highway, and if the thief had followed that direction, he took care to keep at the side of the road............