"Yes, sir! you are the man," replied the sheriff. "In a few minutes," said the stranger, "I will prove to you, you are the most mistaken man in the world." "How?" "Do you know Mr. Sutherland, sir?" He had named one of the most prominent citizens in Waukegan. "Very well, indeed!" was the response of the sheriff. "Jump in my buggy, then, and we'll drive to his house. There, I can readily convince you, you are thoroughly mistaken." "All right," ejaculated the sheriff. In spite of my remonstrating look, he jumped into the buggy, followed by the stranger, and they drove off. It would be needless to detail my reflections. The reader, if gifted with a fair share of acumen, can readily determine them. In less than three-quarters of an hour the horse and buggy once more appeared, driven by the sheriff. He had been making the poor animal pay for his obtuseness. "Well!" I inquiringly uttered. "When we arrived at Sutherland's," said the local official, "the fellow got out and rang the bell. He was some time in waiting for the door to be opened. Then, he told me he would 'go round the house to the back door, and wake them up.' I waited some time longer, when the front door was opened by one of Mr. Sutherland's servants. Naturally enough, I got out, expecting to see the man within the house. Would you believe it, the rascal had never entered it." "Very decidedly I should," was my exclamation. Jumping into the buggy, I requested the sheriff, it is to be feared in a somewhat too dictatorial tone, to "lay it into the horse," and drive back. On arriving at Mr. Sutherland's, I asked him to indicate to me the way the man had gone. He could only point out the side of the house the runaway had passed round. Leaping out, I prepared to track him. It was then, that, for the first time in my life, I discovered, I possessed something of that sleuth-like certainty and readiness, which fitted me for portion of my future career.