In the morning Frank sauntered around to a certain modest house in town, where he greeted a young fellow by the name of Gabe Brown. Gabe was in the store which Frank’s father ran, known as the department store of Columbia. Moreover, he had charge of a certain counter in which Frank was somewhat interested just then. “Hello, Gabe!” he said, as the other looked surprised at seeing the son of his employer look up on Sunday morning, “just wanted to get a little information from you. Here’s a new bandana handkerchief I picked up yesterday. Some fellow dropped it out at the baseball grounds, and I’d like to find out who he is. Can you help me?” Gabe took the article, and examined it. “Came from our place, didn’t it?” continued Frank, seeing his smile. “It sure did, and I think I know whose it is, Frank,” replied the salesman. “How could you be sure? Lots of these are sold every season.” “Well, you notice that it’s just about new, and never been washed, for the stiffening is in it still. That shows it was bought recently, don’t it?” asked Gabe. “Sounds reasonable,” admitted Frank, for this was just what he himself had in mind all along. “Well, we ran out of these a week back, and ordered more. They got in Friday evening, and I sold just one yesterday. They’re different in design from our old ones, too. See the point?” said Gabe, triumphantly. “Sure. Who bought that one, now?” “Mr. William Klemm, Jr.,” came the expected response. “Thanks; I thought so,” and Frank turned away, leaving Gabe looking after him and muttering: “I reckon something’s going to happen close to Billy Klemm just about now.” Frank saw the object of his solicitude on the street in front of a vacant lot. Bill had slipped out to meet one of his cronies on the sly, and perhaps puff a cigarette in the cool of that Sunday morning. “Morning, Bill. Lost something yesterday, didn’t you?” and Frank held up the red bandana. Bill started to put out his hand, and then drew it cautiously back, as though he might have scented a trap. “Naw, ain’t got any bandany rag. Belongs to some other fellow. What made you reckon I owned it?” he said, suspiciously. “Because Gabe Brown says he sold you this particular one from a new lot that just came in, and different from the old ones. You were in a hurry to jump yesterday, Bill, when that bull started for the hole in the fence!” Bill shut his teeth hard and looked as if about to hotly deny that he knew anything about that matter. “Better go slow, Bill, or I might be tempted to step around and tell your dad a few things. Keep going with Lef Seller, and you’ll bring up in the lockup sooner or later. And, Bill, it’s a lucky thing for you that no one was seriously hurt yesterday when you let that savage beast in on the crowd. If there had been, I’d see to it that you were made to pay the piper.” The awkward fellow looked frightened, and let his head drop on his chest.