"I didn't take them," answered Amos Bangs, coldly. "It is queer where they can be," went on Philip Bartlett. "Well, I haven't got them." Philip Bartlett hunted high and low for the missing documents, but without success. Then he cleaned out the desk, put his personal things in a package, said good-by to his former employees, and quit the office. "I am well rid of him," said Amos Bangs, to himself. "And I am glad I got hold of those private contracts. Now I can make a deal with Shaster and turn the work over to the Springfield concern--and make some money!" CHAPTER VII MORE TROUBLES FOR RANDY Two days passed quietly, and Randy did not see or hear anything more of Bob Bangs. Then he learned through Jack that Mrs. Bangs had gone off on a summer trip, taking her son with her. "I hear there are great changes at the iron works," said Randy, to his friend. "Mr. Bangs, they say, is in charge." "He is, and father is out of it," answered Jack, bitterly. "That is what Mrs. Bangs meant when she said I must be bitter against the family." "Is your father out of it entirely, Jack?" "Yes, so far as holding a position is concerned. He still has his stock. But he is afraid that won't be worth much, if Amos Bangs runs the concern." "What is your father going to do?" "He doesn't know yet. He is trying to connect with some other iron works." "I hope he strikes something good." "So do I, Randy." "I wish I could get something to do, too," went on Randy. "You mean during the summer?" "Yes, and maybe later, too." "Why, isn't your father working?" "Not to-day. He has been working in a damp cellar and that brought on his old complaint, rheumatism. He suffers something awful with it. He ought to have a long rest." "He certainly ought not to work in a cellar." "He has already told his boss he couldn't go at it again," answered Randy. "Have you had a doctor?" "Yes, Doctor Case came this morning." "What does he say?" "He says rheumatism is hard to cure and that my father will have to take care of himself," answered Randy. "But I must go on now," he added. "I must get some things for mother at the store." What Randy said about his father was true. Louis Thompson was suffering very much. He rested on a couch in the sitting room of the cottage, and his wife did what she could to relieve his pain. Several days passed and the rheumatism, instead of growing better, became worse, so that neither Mrs. Thompson nor Randy knew what to do for the sufferer. Then Mr. Thompson's side began to draw up, and in haste a specialist from the city was called in. He gave some relief, but said it would be a long time before the sufferer would be able to go to work again. "You must keep off your left leg," said the specialist. A few days after that Louis Thompson tried to walk. But the pain was so great he could not stand on the rheumatic limb. He sank on his couch with a groan. "I cannot do it," he gasped. "Then do not try," answered his wife.