A few minutes later all fears and doubts were dispelled.

Dave Darrin rose to greet the newcomers informing them, in a whisper, that all was still well in the old shanty below.

He of the brogans and club heard a slight noise outside.  Swiftly he rose and darted to the door, ready to pounce.

But he beheld the policemen, with the newspaper trio just behind them.  More, Chief Coy and his subordinates had their revolvers drawn.

“Howdy, gents?” was Mr. Brogans’ greeting as he dropped his club and tried to grin.

“Take care of him, Hemingway,” directed Thief Coy, briefly.

“Me?” demanded Brogans, in feigned astonishment.  “What have I done?”

The noise roused Bill, who sprang up.  But Bill must have found the police wonderfully soothing, for he quieted down at once.

Both rascals were taken care of.  Then Theodore Dodge was found lying bound and gagged on the floor.  A ragged, foul-smelling coat had been substituted for the one that had been left at the river’s bank.  The banker looked up at the intruders with a stupefied leer, betraying neither alarm or pleasure.

As soon as the two rough-looking fellows had been handcuffed Mr. Dodge was freed, and his tongue also, but Chief Coy, after raising the banker and questioning him, muttered: 

“Clean out of his head.  Daffy.  Must have wandered away from Gridley during a loony streak.  He isn’t over it yet.”

The two rough-looking ones protested loudly against being deprived of their liberty.

“I don’t really know that you fellows have done anything,” admitted Chief Coy.  “But I’m taking you along on suspicion that it was you, and not Mr. Dodge himself, who bound and gagged him.”

This retort, given with a great deal of dry sarcasm, silenced the prisoners for the time being.

“We ought to have this out an hour before ‘The Evening Mail’ people,” exulted Editor Pollock.  “Prescott, my boy, you’re a born reporter!  And, Darrin, you’re not much behind.”  “Theodore Dodge found by two “Blade” reporters!  That won’t sound bad!”

The briefest questioning was enough to show that Theodore Dodge was in no condition to give any account of himself.  He did not reply with an intelligible word.  His eyes held only a vacant stare.  It was as though memory and reason had suddenly snapped within his brain.

“The doctors will want him,” commented Chief Coy.  “And we can’t be hustling back a bit too soon.”

It had been a gloomy morning at the home of Banker Dodge.

Through the night, none had slept.  Anxiety had kept them all on the rack.

Mrs. Dodge, a thin and nervous woman, had gone from one spell of hysterics into another, as morning neared.  A trained nurse had to be sent for.

Then in a calm lull Mrs. Dodge had telephoned for Lawyer Ripley, who lost his breakfast through the speed with which he obeyed the summons of the distracted wife.

As a result of the lawyer’s visit the reward of a thousand dollars had been offered.

The house was quiet again.  Dr. Bentley, having been called for the third time, had administered an opiate, and Mrs. Dodge was sleeping.  The other members of the family tip-toed restlessly about.

Bert Dodge felt in a peculiarly “mean” frame of mind that morning.  The young man simply could not remain in one spot.  The more he had thought, through and through the night, the more he had become convinced that his father had killed himself because of some entanglement in the bank’s affairs.

“And I’ll be pointed out as the defaulter’s son,” thought Bert bitterly.  “Oh, why couldn’t the guv’nor think of some one besides himself!  We’ll have to move away from Gridley, of course.  But the disgrace will follow us anywhere we may go.  Oh, it’s awful –­awful!  Of course, I’m not in any way to blame.  But, oh!  What a disgrace!”

It was well along in the forenoon when Bayliss, returning homeward in sweater and running togs, espied Bert’s white, wan face near the front door.  Bayliss signaled cordially to young Dodge, who, glad of this kindliness at such a time, went down the walk to the gate.

“No news of your father yet, I suppose?” asked Bayliss.

“No,” sighed Bert.

“Too bad, old fellow!”

“Yes; the uncertainty is pretty tough on us all,” Dodge replied.

“Oh, you’ll hear before the day is out, and the news will be all right, too,” declared Bayliss, with well-meant cheeriness.  “Then you’ll be with us on the morning cross-countries again.  We missed you a whole lot this morning, Bert.”

“Did you?” asked young Dodge, brightening.

“Yes; and, by the way, we’ve decided on our course –­for our set, you know.  We’re going to ignore the football call next week.  If Coach Morton asks us any questions, then we’ll let him know how the land lies.  We won’t try to make the High School team if the muckers are allowed the same show.  We’ll have a select crowd on the eleven, this year, or else all of our set will stay off.”

“The muckers have some good football men among them, too,” grumbled Bert.  “Of course for that gang that call themselves Dick & Co we can’t any more than make guesses.  But some of them would be handy on an eleven I guess.”

“Yes; if they were not muckers,” agreed Bayliss loftily.  “But there are enough of our own kind to make as good an eleven as Gridley High School ever had.”

“It’s a pity we can’t get up our own eleven play the muckers, just once, and beat them out for the right to represent Gridley.”

“It wouldn’t be so bad an idea.  But they might beat us,” retorted Bayliss dryly.  “So, on the whole, our fellows have decided not to pay any heed whatever to Dick & Co. or any of the other muckers.  After this the line must be drawn, at High School, between the gentlemen and the other kind.”

“All plans looking in that direction will have my hearty support,” pledged Bert Dodge.

“I know it, old fellow.”

“It’s queer that the question never came up before about the muckers,” Bert mused.

“We never had Dick & Co. in school athletics, until last year,” replied Bayliss significantly.

Bert Dodge stopped right there.  Bayliss, too, started and turned.  Around the nearest corner some folks were making a big noise.  Then around the corner came two autos, while a crowd raced along on the sidewalks.

“Hurrah!  Mr. Dodge is found.  Dick Prescott and Dave Darrin found him!” shouted a score of urchins in the crowd.

Bert and Bayliss both gasped.  Then the autos slowed up at the curb before the gate.  The police prisoners were still in the second car.

Bert took a look, recognized his father, despite the strange look in that parent’s face.

“Help them bring my father in, Bayliss!” called young Dodge.  “I’ll run to prepare the folks.”

In another moment there was a turmoil of excitement inside the Dodge house.  While the excitement was still going on Bert came out to inform the crowd that both his father and mother needed quiet and medical attendance.  Bert begged the crowd to go away quietly.

Dick and Dave were standing before the gateway way while Editor Pollock answered some of the queries of the crowd.

“Great luck for you fellows, Prescott and Barren!” called some one in the crowd.  “You two will know what to do with a thousand dollars’ reward!”

Bert Dodge wheeled about like a flash, and facing Dave and Dick, shouted: 

“If that’s what you two fellows are hanging around here for, you’d better clear out!  Take it from me that you fellows will get no thousand dollars, or ten cents, out of our family!”