With these words the rascal whipped up his horses and started up the avenue at as rapid a pace as his steeds were capable of. "Do you believe that fellow's story?" demanded Al, looking his companion squarely in the eyes. "You can bet I do," was the prompt reply. "You think I am a thief?" "Haven't I pretty good proof of it?" "I----" "Now, see here, young fellow," interrupted the indignant brakeman, "I am not going to sit up till daylight to discuss this matter with you. You can talk it over with the judge later. You buncoed me in a very neat manner; I admit you did the job well, but luck happened to be on my side, and the game is lost for you. But see here; just to avoid trouble, if you hand me back my ten dollars, I'll let you off." "I'll give you all I have left of it," said Al; "and some day I'll prove to you that I am not----" "That's all right," interrupted the uncompromising brakeman. "I don't care what you are; all I want is my ten dollars, not what you have left, but just what I gave you." "I have just paid that cabman two dollars," said Al, "and all I can give you is eight. I am very sorry I accepted the loan at all." "You ain't as sorry as I am," sneered the brakeman. "But, see here, I'm not going to fool any more time away with you. I've had a hard day, and I've got to start in again at eleven o'clock. To save myself trouble, I have offered to let you off if you would give me my money back. If you won't, you will go with me to the station house, where I shall make a formal complaint against you. Now, what do you say?" Before Al could reply a man suddenly turned the corner of Eleventh Street. As he approached, the boy grasped his companion's arm. "Now," he said, "I'll prove to you that you have made a mistake." "How?" "Do you see this man coming?" The brakeman looked, then started. "It's your pal!" he exclaimed, recognizing the individual who had been introduced to the reader as the "Rev. David Ferguson." "He's no more my pal than you are," said Al. "Just keep your eyes and ears open, and I'll convince you on that point, at any rate." The alleged reverend gentleman was approaching rather slowly. His eyes were on the pavement. He was smiling; evidently his thoughts were of an agreeable nature. He did not observe Al and his companion until he was within a few feet of them; then the boy suddenly stepped forward, saying: "Good-morning, Mr. Ferguson." CHAPTER XXIX. A DANGEROUS JOB AHEAD. The reverend gentleman started; a decidedly uneasy expression appeared upon his face. "I don't know you, young gentleman," he said. "Oh, you can't have forgotten me, Mr. Ferguson," said Al. "My name is Allston; don't you remember the interesting conversation we had on the train this morning?" "Ahem! I think I do recognize you now." "I thought you would. Isn't this rather early for you to be out, Mr. Ferguson?"