He had addressed a letter to the editor of the _Out Door Weekly_ in New York for terms to agents soliciting subscriptions to the magazine, as Hans and he had talked about before Hans’ trip to New York. The scheme was for Hans and himself to try to get orders for the magazine by the year from the people who lived in near-by towns, and the letter had to be written, now that Hans had come back from New York without seeing the people. Now when he came to put the story about Hans, intended only for his folks, in the letter he had written them, he picked up the wrong envelope and stuck the story in the envelope addressed to the editor of the _Out Door Weekly_, and the letter he intended for the editor he put in the envelope addressed to his folks along with his regular letter. Then he mailed them and went to bed. About a week later, among the letters received by Hal was one from the _Out Door Weekly_, and Hal opened it to see what they had to say about the job of getting subscriptions which they had asked for. When he opened the letter something dropped out of it to the floor, and upon picking it up found it was a check for $250, made out to Harold Case. Of course, he didn’t understand this so he opened the letter, and this is what he read: “MR. HAROLD CASE, “DEAR SIR: We beg to advise you that your story has been accepted by the editor and will appear in the next issue. We have taken the liberty of putting our own title on it. “Inclosed please find check for $250 in payment of same. Any time you have any stories as good as this to submit for publication, we trust you will favor this magazine. “Yours very truly, “WALTON KEMP, _Editor_ “_Out Door Weekly_.” Hal couldn’t understand it and so he took the letter, check and all, into Hans’ room, and asked him what he made out of it. “Guess somebody made a $250 mistake,” said Hans. “They certainly have got me mixed up with some author,” answered Hal. “I didn’t send them any story. The only thing I have sent to this magazine is the letter which you asked me to write about the job as agents for their magazine.” “Well, have you written any stories to anybody?” asked Hans. “Not that I know of,” answered Hal. “The only story I have written lately was this. When you told me the tale of your New York visit the other night I sat down in my room afterwards and wrote it all out, and sent it to the folks, thinking they would enjoy it. They feel as though they know you as well as I do by this time.” “I have it,” said Hans. “I’ll bet I know what you have done. You went and put the letter for the magazine in the letter to your folks and you put the story about me in the envelope addressed to the magazine, and they’re going to publish that story about me all over the country.” “I don’t suppose I could make a mistake like that,” said Hal.