going through Clinton Street, in one of the dark spots, when a
man jumped out from behind a tree and made a snatch for the purse
that I carried in my hand.

"Well, somehow---I don't just know how," Laura continued, "I managed
to keep hold of the purse and I screamed, of course. Then some
one came running down the street as fast as he could---and Dick
Prescott leaped at the rascal. It was a hard fight---a fearful
one."

The girl shuddered even then, in the telling, but she continued:
"The wretch was twice as big as Dick Prescott. I thought Dick
was going to be killed. Twice the fellow broke loose, and started
to run, but what do you think Master Dick was up to?"

"What?" chorused the interested audience.

"Master Dick had his mind set on subduing the robber and holding
him for the police. So he tried to stop the wretch from getting
away. At last, however, the fellow hurled Dick backward, so that
he fell. When he got up he was lame. You all may have noticed
that Mr. Prescott limped a bit yesterday?"

"Yes; he _did_," confirmed Frank Thompson.

"And his hand was hurt, too---I know that," insisted Laura. "For
he escorted me to Miss Bond's, and then home. When we got there,
I asked my father, who is a doctor, to take Dick into the office.
Father said, afterwards, that Dick's right wrist was sprained,
and his ankle wrenched a bit, too. He said Dick would be doing