"Something has got to turn up pretty quick," thought Joe. "It's just
as well I didn't get a job to-day. I should only have had more money
to lose."

He had not walked a hundred feet when his attention was called to the
figure of a gentleman walking some rods in front of him. He saw it
but indistinctly, and would not have given it a second thought had he
not seen that the person, whoever he might be, was stealthily
followed by a man who in general appearance resembled the rascal who
had robbed him of his money. The pursuer carried in his hand a
canvas bag filled with sand. This, though Joe did not know it, was a
dangerous weapon in the hands of a lawless human. Brought down
heavily upon the head of an unlucky traveler, it often produced
instant death, without leaving any outward marks that would indicate
death from violence.

Though Joe didn't comprehend the use of the sand-bag, his own recent
experience and the stealthy movement of the man behind convinced him
that mischief was intended. He would have been excusable if, being
but a boy and no match for an able-bodied ruffian, he had got out of
the way. But Joe had more courage than falls to the share of most
boys of sixteen. He felt a chivalrous desire to rescue the
unsuspecting stranger from the peril that menaced him.

Joe, too, imitating the stealthy motion of the pursuer, swiftly
gained upon him, overtaking him just as he had the sand-bag poised
aloft, ready to be brought down upon the head of the traveler.

With a cry, Joe rushed upon the would-be assassin, causing him to