“Put up that knife, you dog!” he commanded; “or I will blow a hole in you! You threatened to betray me to the police! Why, you idiot! You would not dare show your face to the police of this city! They want you, and they would nab you the moment you appeared before them! You can’t bluff me!” Bill uttered an oath. “Here, Sam, you infernal coward!” he called. “Where are you?” “I am here,” was the answer, and Bill’s companion once more appeared in the doorway. His eyes surveyed the scene. “What did you sneak for?” hissed Bill. “You gave him a chance to pull a gun on me! Had you remained here——” “It would have made no difference,” asserted Jarvis. “Perhaps not,” said Sam, as he lifted his fingers to his lips. From those lips suddenly came a clear, shrill, peculiar whistle that caused Bill and Jarvis to start in astonishment. “What the devil does that mean?” Jarvis demanded. “The boy knows,” laughed Sam in a singularly changed voice. “He heard the whistle, and he is not the only one. Mr. Jarvis, the police are at your door. Listen! They are in this house now.” “A thousand furies!” snarled the astonished man. “What have you done?” “I opened the door for them!” “You—you opened the door? Why, you fool! You will go to prison yourself—you and your dog of a pal here!” “Perhaps he will go,” said Sam; “but not I. They are not looking for me.” “Not looking for you? Who are you?” Like a flash the false beard was torn from the face of the man who had given the signal whistle, and at the same time he cried: “I am Frank Merriwell! Surrender, both of you, for you are trapped and cannot escape!” Even as he uttered these words, mingled with the distant wailing of the violin came the sound of rushing feet. Behind him appeared several men, one of them wearing a long, dark overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat. “Ah!” cried Bial Keene. “I see you have your birds, Merriwell.” CHAPTER XXVI. BOUND FOR FARDALE. “Well, Abe,” said Captain Wiley, as the train on which they were traveling approached Fardale, “it strikes my acute perception that we must be drawing near our goal. This gang of salubrious young bloods in the car are evidently going to Fardale. However, by their appearance to my optical vision and from the conversation that is trickling from their lips, and tickling the tympanum of my ears, I am led to infer that they are members of a baseball team, together with a number of enthusiastic rooters. It strikes me that there will be a little baseball doing in Fardale this afternoon, on which occasion we will take in the sport, my boy—we will take in the sport. There will be but one drawback. Little Walter will have to sit still and see others perambulate over the diamond and swat the ball on the trade-mark.” “Fardale!” exclaimed the hunchback, his eyes glowing. “I have heard so much about it! And Dick is there!”