"I doubt it," retorted Bordine angrily. "I will make you smart for this."
The young man walked on, however, and when in the vicinity of the city lockup, the detective turned from the street to cross a vacant lot. They were thus in a gloomy spot, and compelled to pass near the edge of a deep hollow, an excavation made a long time before for a cellar.
Just at this point a dark form glided up behind the detective and dealt him a stunning blow on the head, felling him to the ground.
"Thar, pardner, I reckon that beak won't git no furder with his pris'ner."
Bordine was dumbfounded.
Who was the rough-spoken man who had come to his rescue by perhaps dealing the detective a death-blow?
"He put the darbies on, did he?"
Bordine held up his manacled hands. The gruff-spoken individual fumbled with them a moment, and then, to his great joy, Bordine found his wrists free.
The stranger had done him a good turn indeed.
Now the young engineer was anxious about the detective's fate; who he realized, had been acting in good faith no matter how foolishly he had blundered.