“Not well—bad,” was the despondent reply. “You see I found the star-gazing trade poor lately, on account of so many cloudy nights, so, in order to make a living I ventured to proclaim that I would read the stars and reveal the future—for a consideration. It was risky, I know, but I did it, and did it well—for a time. “All was prosperous and happy, until to-night, just before supper I was visited by a man who wanted to know whether he would be successful in a certain undertaking. I consulted my charts and said that he would.” “What was the undertaking?” asked Bill. “He was going to collect a long overdue bill from a man who owed him some money,” went on the astronomer. “I told him to be firm, and he would succeed. “A little later he came back, all tattered and torn, with one eye blackened, his collar a rag, and his clothes covered with dirt. He entered my wagon without knocking, and presented himself before me. “‘I was firm!’ he shouted at me, ‘but I did not succeed. This is what the other man did to me!’ Oh, it was terrible. He accused me of deceiving him, and he sprang at me, and would doubtless have made me suffer, but I escaped through the front door, leaving my beloved cat, Scratch, behind, and I fled here. “As I ran on I could hear the terrible threats the man uttered against me, of causing my arrest. Even now I fear—hark! What’s that?” Mr. Somnus paused in alarm, and seemed about to dart for the bunks again. “Nothing—absolutely nothing,” answered the professor, calmly. Mr. Somnus listened, and seemed satisfied. “I guess that fellow didn’t mean all he said,” put in Bill. “Perhaps,” agreed the astronomer, with a sigh. “I certainly hope not.” “You are not the only one who has troubles,” went on the traveling medicine man. “Here’s Bill.” “What troubles has he?” asked Mr. Somnus. “Has he been predicting—reading the stars?” “Not exactly,” answered the pitcher. And then Professor Clatter told about the proposed painting of the statue and his own warning. “I’m glad you happened in, Tithy,” went on the vendor of the Peerless Permanent Pain Preventative, “for I’d like your opinion about this matter. I say it’s a plot to get Bill and his brothers into trouble, what do you think about it?” He detailed the reasons for his suspicions, and waited for an answer. “Well,” began the fugitive, “not speaking by the stars at all, you understand, and making no promises for which I can be held responsible, I think you’re right, Theophilus. And I’d advise Bill to look out.” “But how?” eagerly asked the pitcher. “I’m beginning to agree with you. How can I catch Mersfeld and North at their little game, for a game I think it is?” “Easy enough,” said the professor. “Go on as if you and your brothers and Whistle-Breeches—Oh, what a classical name—go on as if you intended to carry out the trick. Take my word for it those fellows will be hidden somewhere ready to see you caught, and you can turn the tables on them.