A slight, slouching figure came gliding toward Johnny.
"Jerry the Rat!" he murmured; then to the man himself:
"So, it's you, Jerry. Haven't seen you for two years."
Through blear-eyes the little fellow surveyed Johnny for a second.
"Johnny Thompson, de clean guy wot packs a wallop!" he exclaimed. "Dere dey go! We can get 'em!" He pointed down the alley.
"Got a gun?" asked Johnny, standing a bit unsteadily.
"Two of 'em. C'mon. We ken git de yeggs yit."
Johnny grasped the gun held out to him and the next instant was following the strangely swift rat of the waterfront.
"Dere dey go!" exclaimed the little fellow.
Down an alley they rushed, then out on a broad, but dimly lighted street. They were gaining on the gang. They would overhaul them. There would be a battle. Johnny figured this out as he ran, and tried to discover the mechanism of his weapon.