Frank followed, but could see nothing of the person he was pursuing.
"He must have dodged into a doorway," decided the lad. "No—here is where he went, down this alley."
The mouth of a dark alley was before him, and he plunged into it. He did not go far before he decided that further pursuit was folly, and he turned back.
"He's slippery," muttered the boy; "but I'll catch him some time, if he continues to shadow me."
Dark forms appeared at the mouth of the alley, and a hoarse whisper came to Merriwell's ears:
"He went in here, and the alley is blind, so he can't get out. Do him—and do him dirty!"
For all that Frank had been often in desperate peril, something about this situation chilled him to the heart. The uncanny darkness, the unknown alley, his creeping foes coming down upon him, possibly with deadly intent, all served to make him feel weak and helpless for the moment.
There are times when the bravest heart shrinks with dread, and, for all that Frank was a lad with remarkable nerve, it is not strange that he felt a thrill of fear at that moment.
It is claimed that men have lived who "never knew