“Do you believe that?” said Nick.
“Not hardly,” said Patsy, emphatically.
“Neither do I,” replied Nick, quietly. “But our business now is to find Chick and learn what he has been doing all night.”
Patsy laughed as he looked up at Nick, saying:
“I think that’s the straight road to the papers.”
The two now hurried up the Bowery to its end to pick up the trail Chick had left behind him.
Arriving at the last mark Patsy had observed, they soon discovered that the next one led them up Third Avenue, and, following them, which grew plainer as they proceeded, they were carried to Thirty-fourth Street, where the marks indicated that Chick had passed to the east.
But as they turned to go down that street, Patsy dashed across the street to look at something tied to the rail of the steps leading to the elevated railroad station.
It was a string of yellow cotton cloth.
Carefully examining the pavement, he ran up and down a short distance, like a dog getting the scent, and then, stepping to the curbstone, vigorously beckoned to Nick to come to him.