It now becomes necessary for us to follow Frank Hare. That cheerful and ambitious young man got himself up like a beggar. Then he sauntered out to find Bull Blair.
For hours he went from saloon to saloon in the Fourth and Sixth Wards, begging. His receipts were lamentably small. At about nightfall he flushed his quarry. He came on Blair in a beer saloon on Baxter Street.
As when he met him in Shaw’s, Frank found him alone.
“Please help a poor man,” said Hare, going up to the burglar.
“Clear out!”
“Won’t you give me a little something?” pleaded the pseudo-beggar.
“Haven’t got anything. I’m thinking about going into your line of business myself.”
“Ain’t you Bull Blair?”
The rascal started at mention of his name, but he did not discover Frank’s identity.
“Suppose I am?”