"Gee!" gasped Chet, "if I'm nicked fifty dollars, how shall I ever be able to buy Christmas presents, or even give anything for the Red Cross drive?" "Oh, I'm sorry, Chet!" Jess Morse murmured. "Looks as if hard times had camped on your trail, old boy," declared Lance. "But maybe it is a hundred-dollar bill," Laura said. "It's tough," Short and Long muttered. "Try to pass it on somebody else," chuckled Bobby, who was not very sympathetic at that moment. "Got it all locked up, Laura?" Jess asked. "Well, let us go then. You can't make that bill right by looking at it, Chet." "I--I wish I could get hold of the man who passed it on me," murmured the big fellow. "Would you know him again?" Lance asked. "Sure," returned his chum, getting his own coat and hat while his sister put on her outdoor clothing. "All ready? We're going, Pa." "Remember what I said about that bill, Chetwood," Mr. Belding admonished him. "You will learn after this, I guess, to look at both sides of a hundred-dollar bill--or any other--when it is offered to you." "Aw, it's a good hundred, I bet," grumbled Chet. "If it is, I'll add an extra fifty to my Red Cross subscription," rejoined his father with some tartness. "Well, that's something!" Bobby Hargrew said quickly. "We want to boost the fund all we can. And what do you think?" "My brain has stopped functioning entirely since I got so bothered by that bank-note," declared Laura Belding, shaking her head. "I can't think." "Mr. Sharp and the rest of the faculty have agreed that we shall give a show for the Red Cross," declared Bobby, with enthusiasm. "Just what we wanted them to do!" "Oh, joy!" cried Jess, clasping her hands in delight. "Miss Josephine Morse, leading lady, impressarioess, and so forth," laughed Lance Darby, "will surely be in on the theatricals." "Maybe they will let you write the play, Jess," said Chet admiringly. They reached the door and stepped into the street. There had been rain and a freeze. The sidewalks, as well as the highway itself, were slippery. Bobby suddenly screamed: "See there! Oh! He'll be killed!" A rapidly-driven automobile turned the corner by the Belding store. A man was crossing Market Street, coming toward the group of young people. The careless driver had not put on his chains. The car skidded. The next instant the pedestrian was knocked down, and at least one wheel ran over his prostrate body. Instead of stopping, the car went into high speed and dashed up the street and was quickly out of sight. The young people ran to the prostrate man. Nobody for the moment thought of the automobile driver who was responsible for the affair. The victim had blood on his face from a cut high up on his crown. He was unconscious. It was Chet Belding who stood up and spoke, first of all. "I thought so! I thought so!" he gasped. "Do you know who this is?" "Who?" asked Jess, clinging to his arm as the crowd gathered.