They walked up the street and around a corner, and Dick followed, scattering bits of an old letter as he went along. When the letter was used up, he tore to bits some handbills which he found in the street.
Eight squares were covered before Dan Baxter and Bradner reached a dingy looking hotel which went by the name of Lakeman's Rest.
It was set in the middle of the block, with brick houses on either side of it.
They entered a narrow hallway, and by the light above the door Dick saw them ascend the stairs to the second floor.
There now seemed nothing to do but to await Tom's return, and the youth retired to the opposite side of the street.
It was late—after midnight, in fact—and the street was practically deserted.
A half hour went by and Dick felt as if his brother would never return, when he heard swift footsteps behind him.
"So this is your game, eh?" cried the voice of Bradner, and of a sudden a club descended upon Dick's head and he went down as if shot.
The man had looked out of the hotel window and spotted Dick, and had gone out by a back way add around the square to make certain of his victim.
"That was a good crack," came from Dan Baxter. "It serves him right for following you."