“Hullo!” cried Dicky, halting and shading his eyes from the gaslight. “I was just going up to look for you again.” “What's up, Dicky?” “I guess it's the devil,” said Dicky, so gravely that I broke into a laugh. “He's right at home if he's come to this town,” I said. “I'm glad you find it so funny,” said Dicky in an injured tone. “You was scared enough last time.” I had put my foot in it, sure enough. I might have guessed that the devil was not his Satanic Majesty but some evil-minded person in the flesh whom I had to fear. “Can it be Doddridge Knapp?” flashed across my mind but I dismissed the suspicion as without foundation. I spoke aloud: “Well, I've kept out of his claws this far, and it's no use to worry. What's he trying to do now?” “That's what I've been trying to find out all the evening. They're noisy enough, but they're too thick to let one get near where there's anything going on--that is, if he has a fancy for keeping a whole skin.” “Suppose we go down there now,” I suggested. “We might find out something.” Dicky stopped short. “Cæsar's ghost!” he gasped; “what next? Wouldn't you like to touch off a few powder-kegs for amusement? Won't you fire a pistol into your mouth to show how easy you can stop the bullet?” “Why, you have been down there and are all right,” I argued. “Well, there's nothing much to happen to me, but where would you be if they got hold of you? You're getting off your _cabesa_, old fellow,” said Dicky anxiously. “If I could see Mother Borton I could fix it,” I said confidently. “What! That she-devil?” cried Dicky. “She'd give you up to have your throat cut in a minute if she could get a four-bit piece for your carcass. I guess she could get more than that on you, too.” Mother Borton's warnings against Dicky Nahl returned to me with force at this expression of esteem from the young man, and I was filled with doubts. “I came up to tell you to look out for yourself,” continued Dicky. “I'm afraid they mean mischief, and here you come with a wild scheme for getting into the thick of it.” “Well, I'll think better of it,” I said. “But see if you can find out what is going on. Come up and let me know if you get an inkling of their plans.” “All right,” said Dicky. “But just sleep on a hair-trigger to-night.” “Good night,” I said, as I turned toward my room, and Dicky, with an answering word, took his way toward the Borton place.