“He’s robbed me, that’s what’s the matter,” answered the countryman.  “He has got six hundred dollars o’ mine!”

“Six hundred dollars!” cried several and began to take a deeper interest.

“Gentleman this man must be crazy.  I never saw him before,” came loudly from the swindler.

“That is not true!” cried Joe.  “He was with the man who lost the money.  I saw them together yesterday.”

“I am a respectable merchant from Pittsburg,” went on the swindler.  “It is outrageous to be accused in this fashion.”

“Somebody had better call a policeman,” said Joe.

“I’ll do dat,” answered a newsboy, and ran off to execute the errand.

As the crowd began to collect the swindler saw that he was going to have difficulty in clearing himself or getting away.  He looked around, and seeing an opening made a dash for it.

He might have gotten away had it not been for Joe.  But our hero was watching him with the eyes of a hawk, and quick as a flash he caught the rascal by the coat sleeve.

“No, you don’t!” he exclaimed.  “Come back here!”

“Let go!” cried the man and hit Joe in the ear.  But the blow did not stop Joe from detaining him and in a second more Josiah Bean caught hold also.

“Ain’t goin’ to git away nohow!” exclaimed the countryman, and took hold of the swindler’s throat.

“Le—­let go!” came back in a gasp.  “Don’t—­don’t strangle me!”

When a policeman arrived the swindler was thoroughly cowed and he turned reproachfully to Josiah Bean.

“This isn’t fair,” he said.  “It was all a joke.  I haven’t got your money.”

“Yes, you have.”

“He is right, Mr. Bean,” put in Joe.  “The money, I think, is in your side pocket.”

The countryman searched the pocket quickly and brought out a flat pocketbook.

“Hullo! this ain’t mine!” he ejaculated.

He opened the pocketbook and inside were the twelve fifty-dollar bills.

“My money sure enough!  How in the world did it git there?”

“This man just slipped the pocketbook into your pocket,” answered Joe.

“I did not!” put in the swindler, hotly.

“You did.”

“Dat’s right!” piped up the newsboy who had brought the policeman.  “I see him do de trick jest a minit ago!”

“This is a plot against me!” fumed the swindler.

“Dat feller is a bad egg!” went on the newsboy.  “His name is Bill Butts.  He’s a slick one, he is.  Hits de country jays strong, he does!”

At the mention of the name, Bill Butts, the policeman became more interested than ever.

“You’ll come to the station house with me,” he said, sternly.  “We can straighten out the matter there.”

“All right,” answered Bill Butts, for such was his real name.

In a few minutes more the party, including Joe, was off in the direction of the police station.