"Not me! I ain't goin' to be responsible fer nobody's money but my own--an' Mirandy's." "Better see if your own money is safe." Josiah Bean got out his wallet and counted the bills. "Safe enough." "Are you sure? I thought there was only five hundred and fifty." "No, six hundred." "I'll bet you ten dollars on it." "What! can't I count straight," gasped the old farmer, much disturbed. "Six hundred I tell you," he added, after he had gone over the amount once more. "If there is I'll give you the ten dollars," answered the slick one. "Let me count the bills." "All right, there ye be, Mr. Davis." Henry Davis took the wallet and pretended to count the bills. "Hullo, what's that?" he cried, whirling around. "What's wot?" demanded Josiah Bean, also looking around. "I thought I heard somebody cry fire." "Don't say thet! Say, let's git out o' here--I don't want to look at the sights." "All right--here's your money. I guess it's six hundred after all," answered the slick-looking individual, passing over the wallet. They hurried to the elevator and got into quite a crowd of people. "Wait for me here," said Henry Davis, as they walked past the side corridor. "I want to step in yonder office and send a message to a friend." He ran off, leaving the old farmer by himself. Josiah Bean looked around him nervously. "I guess that wasn't no cry o' fire after all," he mused. "Well, if there's a fire I kin git out from here quick enough."