Abe and Tad scrambled across the Kentucky broadhorn and stepped out on the wide, sun-baked levee top. Behind them the water, high with the April freshets, was a good ten feet above the level of the streets to which they now descended. It gave Tad a queer feeling of insecurity to see the twin stacks of the steamers standing high above the church steeples. But that was only a momentary fancy. His attention was centered on his present errand, and he whistled merrily as he hurried along beside Abe. The towering young Hoosier’s strides ate up distance surprisingly, and they were soon well into the business section of the city. Tad asked a Creole shopkeeper, in good French, where they might find the Rue St. Louis, and was told, in funny but understandable English, that it was the next street but one. Going forward as directed, they quickly found not only the street but the number they wanted. It was a large, severe-looking building of three stories, with none of the pretty tracery of iron balconies that adorned so many of the houses. The two lads entered the public hallway and climbed the stairs to the second floor. Tad felt a joyous pounding under his ribs at the sight of the name JEREMIAH HOPKINS lettered on the door. He opened it with trembling fingers and entered, Abe following at his heels. To his disappointment, his father was nowhere in sight. At the rear of the room a big desk and chair stood--vacant. Two or three clerks sat on tall stools, scribbling away at their ledgers. A dapper young secretary with a small mustache and a supercilious air came forward to the rail. “I’m Thaddeus Hopkins,” said Tad. “Isn’t my father here?” The man seemed not at all impressed. He stroked his chin with one hand and smiled cynically. “So you’re the boy himself, eh?” said he. “Let’s see, you’re the third--no, the fourth--that’s been here, and you aren’t the likeliest-looking one of the lot, at that. You’ve come for the reward, I suppose?” “No,” Tad replied, somewhat nettled by the fellow’s attitude. “I haven’t come for any reward. I’ve come to see my father. Where is he?” The secretary scowled. “Now see here,” said he, “don’t give me any more of your impudence, or I’ll have you arrested. Mr. Hopkins went up river some days ago--to follow up an important clue,” he added weightily, as if to settle the matter. Abe looked at Tad and grinned, and seeing him, the young man with the mustache flew into a rage. “Get out of here!” he cried. “Get out at once, before I call the police. And if I catch you in here again I’ll use a cane on you!” Tad’s sense of humor got the better of his wrath, at that. He stopped short of the hot answer he had started to make, and laughed, with Abe, at the sheer ridiculousness of the affair. They went slowly to the door. On the threshold Tad turned and looked once more at the secretary, who was now fairly purple with indignation.