and more persons were constantly arriving to swell the throng.
"What's the matter?" asked Tom, of one of the few police officers of which Shopton boasted, though the lad did not need to be told.
"Run on the bank," was the brief answer. "It's failed."
Tom felt a pang of disappointment. Somehow, he had hoped that his father and his friends might have been able to stave off ruin. As he approached nearer Tom was made aware that the crowd was in an ugly mood.
"Why don't they open the doors and give us our money?" cried one excited woman. "It's ours! I worked hard for mine, an' now they want to keep it from us. I wish I'd put it in the new bank."
"Yes, that's the best place," added another. "That Mr. Foger has lots of money."
"I can see the hand of Andy's father, and that of Mr. Berg, at work here," thought Tom. "They have spread rumors of the bank's trouble, and hope to profit by it. I wish I could find a way to beat them at their own game."
As the minutes passed, and the bank was not opened, the ugly temper of the crowd increased. The few police could do nothing with the mob, and several, bolder than the rest, ad-
