Gus felt like giving vent to his astonishment and rage in a series of the wildest kind of yells, and it was all he could do to choke back his tears. As soon as he had controlled himself so that he could speak, he said: “I don’t want to ask my father to endorse it. This is my own private affair, and I don’t want you to say anything about it.” “Of course not. We never talk about our business matters.” “How long will it take to collect it?” “Well, Austin is a long distance from here, and it will take two or three weeks at least.” “Great Cæsar!” was Gus’s mental exclamation. “Can I stand it to stay in the store so much longer? Very well,” he said aloud, “I shall have to ask you to collect it for me, if that is the best I can do.” Gus turned about and walked out of the bank like one in a dream. He had never in his life before been so badly disappointed. The reflection that if he remained in the store a month longer, and could save all the money he earned in that time, he would have twenty dollars more to be added to the sum he already possessed, did not encourage him in the least. He wanted his liberty more than he wanted a month’s wages, and besides he was by no means sure that he would be able to save what he earned. If his creditors became weary of having their debts paid by promises, and presented their bills to his father, Gus knew that they would be promptly settled, and that he could not draw a cent at the end of the month. He turned these matters over in his mind while he was eating his dinner, and the longer he pondered upon them the more he felt like yelling. There were no customers in the store when he returned, but Sam was leaning over the counter waiting for him. CHAPTER V. THE CLERK’S RUSE. “I was in hopes we should be kept so busy this afternoon that Sam wouldn’t have a chance to speak to me,” thought Gus, as he made his way to the office and hung up his hat and overcoat, “but it is just my luck. If I wanted a few minutes rest the store would be so full of customers that you couldn’t crowd a ramrod in among them.” “Well?” said Sam, when the boy came out of the office and took his place behind the counter. “Well,” answered Gus, “I can’t pay you this month. I have had so many calls that my money is all used up. Twenty dollars don’t go far, you know.” Sam’s face grew black at once. “Didn’t I tell you that my claim was to be settled first?” he demanded, angrily. “Yes; but what am I to do when a man stops me in the street and tells me that if I don’t pay up then and there, he will see my father about it before I am an hour older?” asked Gus. “Put him off with promises, as you do me. Who stopped you on the street?” “That Jew.” “Did you pay him?” “I did—_not_.” The last word Gus said to himself. “Well, you still have five dollars left. Hand that over and I will give you credit for it.” “But I haven’t got it. I paid that out, too.”