The afternoon papers contained exciting accounts of the explosion. Al had unreservedly given the police all the facts in the case; and in the hands of the reporters the story lost nothing. The building had been saved from total destruction by the efforts of the firemen, and it was known that no lives had been lost, except those of Miss Hollingsworth and Jack Farley; it seemed certain that they must have perished. It was found that the former had premeditated her horrible crime, and had prepared for emergencies; she had, on the previous day, supplied herself with no less than half a dozen of the dynamite cylinders, so that the loss of the one which Al had taken from her was no obstacle to the accomplishment of her plan. Once more Al was the hero of the hour. When he rejoined Mr. Wattles, two days after the events we have just related, he was met at the station by a crowd of citizens, who unhitched the horses from the carriage that was in waiting for him and his sister, and insisted upon dragging the vehicle to the hotel, much to the embarrassment of the two young people. Al suspected Mr. Wattles to be the instigator of this proceeding, and accused him of having incited the populace to behave as they had. "What is the matter with you?" the old gentleman asked. "Such a tribute of admiration would turn the head of almost anyone, but you kick about it." "Didn't you work up the demonstration?" persisted Al. "Suppose I did?" "Well, don't do it again." "I shan't have to. I've set the ball rolling, and the chances are that something of the sort will happen at every town we visit during the next two weeks." Al groaned. "I believe I'll throw up the job," he said, half in jest, and half in earnest. "Well, I believe you won't," said the manager, very much in earnest. "You're just the sort of agent I want. Why, you can't help having adventures and getting into the papers." "That sort of thing won't last forever." "I suppose not; but, when you cease to be a popular hero, I think I can trust to your good judgment and business ability to manage things. Throw up the job! I should say not! I couldn't get along without you. And, besides, if you left me, your sister would go, too." "That need not necessarily follow." "She would go; and I tell you I could not get along without her, either." Mr. Wattles always spoke of Miss March with an awkward, embarrassed air that puzzled Al. "But, of course," he continued, hastily, "you do not mean what you said. Remember, you promised me----" "I never went back on my word yet," interrupted Al, "and I shall not now. But I wish these public demonstrations would cease. They seem to me ridiculous, and they annoy me a good deal more than you seem to think." "Well, you are the queerest press agent I ever struck," said the manager. "However, I guess you won't be much bothered--after to-night." "Eh?" cried Al. "After to-night? What do you mean by that? What is to be done to-night?"