Part 17 (1/2)

Oh, yes! Of course, ye wanter know. Well, I'll tell ye when ye hand me the rest o' the money for doin' the whole trick---then I'll tell ye.”

Something in a very low whisper came, in response, from the second party who was invisible to the prowling freshmen.

d.i.c.k Prescott felt that there was no need of prolonging this scene.

He had heard enough.

”Now, rush 'em! Grab 'em---and hold 'em!” shouted d.i.c.k, suddenly.

As the three freshmen shot forward into the darkness something that sounded like an almost hysterical cheer in girls' voices came from the open, dark window overhead.

But neither d.i.c.k nor his chums paused to give thought to that at this important moment.

The unknown who had been doing most of the talking wheeled with an oath, making a frantic dash to get out of the alley and onto the street.

But d.i.c.k shot fairly past him, dodging slightly, and made a bound for the second party to this wicked conference.

Just beyond the doorway in which this second party had keen standing was a yard that furnished a second means of exit from the alley.

It was this second party to the talk that d.i.c.k was after. He left the other fugitive to his two active, quick-witted chums.

They were swift to understand, and grappled, together, with the rascal fleeing for the street.

The three went down in a scuffling, fighting heap.

Like a flash the fellow that d.i.c.k was after seemed to melt into the adjoining back yard. Prescott, in trying to get in after him in record time, fell flat to the ground just inside the yard.

Yet, as he went down Prescott grabbed one of his fugitive's trouser legs near the ankle.

”Let go!” hissed the other, in too low a voice to be recognized.

Before d.i.c.k, holding on grimly, had time to look upward, the wretch lifted a cane, bringing it down on d.i.c.k's head with ugly force.

CHAPTER X

TIP SCAMMON TALKS---BUT NOT ENOUGH

If that ugly blow hadn't proved a glancing one, d.i.c.k Prescott might have been for a long siege of brain fever.

As it was, he was slightly stunned for the moment.

By the time he could leap up and look about him, rather dizzily, his late a.s.sailant had made a clean escape.

”No time to waste on a fellow who's got away,” quoth d.i.c.k.

He staggered slightly, at first, as he hurried from the yard back into the alleyway.

”Now, you quiet down!” commanded Dave Darrin hoa.r.s.ely. ”No more from you, Mr. Thug!”

”Lemme go, or it'll be worse for ye!” threatened a harsh voice that, nevertheless, had a whine in it.