"Hurry!" the boy exclaimed. "The Traders' Bank! Robbers!" In less than a minute the sergeant and two of his men were on their way to the bank. Arthur followed them closely. He hid with them in the dark vestibule of the bank. It seemed to the boy as if years passed before he at last heard footsteps in the silent street. Then the minutes were hours long. At last the two robbers and their victim arrived at the outer door. They pushed him in and told him to be lively about unlocking that door. At that instant the policemen jumped forward and presented their pistols at the heads of the burglars. They made no resistance. They were too surprised. Arthur and his father walked home side by side, Arthur pushing his bicycle by the handle bar. For a long time they had nothing to say to each other, for each was busy with his thoughts.
"Arthur," said his father at length, "I'm glad there is a scorcher in the family, but I—"
"Yes, sir," interrupted the boy, eagerly; "but I want to tell you I'm sorry I went into the road race to-day."
"Perhaps I was too hasty," said Mr. Clark. "But the bicycle has done one good thing. It has shown me that my son is as quick-witted as he is brave."
GREAT MEN'S SONS.
THE SON OF CHARLEMAGNE.
BY ELBRIDGE S. BROOKS.
n the summer days of the year 781 an odd sort of a procession marched through France.