"Yes, I do, and he's up to no good here," replied Buddy Girk.

"Den maybe I best kick him owit kvick, hey?"

"Yes--no--wait a minute." Girk turned to Arnold Baxter. "Here is that oldest Rover boy spying on us."

"Ha! I told you they were regular rats for that sort of work,"

fumed Arnold Baxter.

"Don't let him go."

"Why not?"

"He may know too much. Bring him in here till I question him."

"Not much!" burst out d.i.c.k. "Help! Help!"

His cries came to a sudden ending as Buddy Girk clapped a large and somewhat dirty hand over his mouth.

"Run him in here, Jake," said the former tramp. "He is a fellow we have an account to settle with."

"Is dot so? Vell, I ton't vont me no troubles," answered the German doubtfully.

"It's all right--he--he stole some of our money. That's right, in with him," and d.i.c.k was run into the room, after which Dutch Jake retired as suddenly as he had appeared. He was an elderly man, of a queer turn of mind, and, all by himself, occupied a garret room of the tenement.

As soon as the door was locked Arnold Baxter faced d.i.c.k. "Now will you keep quiet, or shall I knock you over with this?" he demanded, and raised a heavy cane he had grown into the habit of carrying since he had escaped from the hospital, on the very day that the authorities were going to transfer him to the jail at Ithaca.

"Don't you dare to touch me, Arnold Baxter!" cried the boy boldly.

"Will you keep quiet?"

"That depends. What do you want of me?"

"You followed Girk to this place and were spying on us."

"I think I had a right to follow Girk. He is wanted by the authorities, as you know."

"You heard us planning to do something."

"Perhaps I did."

"I know you did."

"All right, then; don't ask me about it."

"You think that you are a smart boy," growled Baxter uneasily.

"Thank you for nothing."

"Don't get impudent."

"That is what old Crabtree used to say."

"The Rovers always were too important for their own good, young man."

"We know how to do the fair thing by others--and that is more than you!"

"Shut up; I'm in no humor to listen to your preaching."

"Then open the door and let me go."

"Not just yet. I want to know how much you overheard of my talk with Buddy Girk."

"I reckon he heard all of it," growled the fool.

"If I was you, Baxter, I wouldn't let him go at all."

"You would keep him a prisoner?"

Buddy Girk nodded.

"But we can't guard him, Buddy."

"We won't want to guard him. Just bind him hands and feet, and stuff a gag in his mouth, and there you are."

"Would you leave him in this room?"

"I don't know." Girk scratched his tangled head of hair. "No, I wouldn't. I'll tell you where to take him."

He finished by whispering into Arnold Baxter's ear. At once the rascal's face brightened, and he nodded. "Just the thing!" he muttered.

"It will serve him right."

"Are you going to let me go?" demanded d.i.c.k uneasily, for he saw that the two were plotting to do him injury.

"No," came from both.

Without another word d.i.c.k leaped for the door. The key was in the lock, but ere he could turn it Buddy Girk hauled him back. A scuffle followed, which came to a sudden termination when Arnold Baxter raised his heavy cane and struck the boy, on the back of the head. With a million stars dancing before his eyes, poor d.i.c.k went down completely dazed.

Girk lost no time in following up the advantage thus gained, and by the time d.i.c.k felt like rising he found his hands bound behind him and a gag of knotted cloth stuffed into his mouth. Then his feet were fastened together, and he was rolled up in an old blanket much the worse for wear and the want of washing.

"Now, come on, before anybody else spots us!" exclaimed Baxter.

"If you can lift him alone I'll bring the light. I'm no good on the carry yet."

"All right, light the way," answered Buddy Girk, and took up the form of the boy.

Taking up the smoky lamp, Arnold Baxter led the way out of a rear door to a side hallway. Here two flights of stairs led to a low and ill ventilated cellar. The underground apartment had never been used for anything but old rubbish, and this was piled high on all sides.

"Here we are," said Baxter, as he paused in front of what had once been a stone coal bin. "Dump him in there and shut the door on him. I don't believe he'll get out in any hurry."