“Beg your pardon, boss,” said the young tramp, slowly and unsteadily rising to his feet. “Just arrived in your beautiful town. Came in my own parlor car. Brought an awful thirst with me, too. Open a bottle of Mumm’s for me, and mark it down on a cake of ice.” The bartender called a boy. “Open the basement door, Joe,” he said. “Can’t have this fellow strolling out through the office.” The basement door was quickly opened, and then, without a moment’s delay, the bartender hustled the young tramp out and thrust him into the street, giving him a push that caused him to lose his feet and sit down heavily on the sidewalk. “Too bad!” muttered the hobo, as he sat there and looked round over his shoulder at the door, which had closed behind him. “I didn’t hear all of that. They whispered too low for me to catch the whole of it. They’re up to something that interests me a great deal, as a chap by the name of Buckhart is concerned. I will keep my eyes open.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER IV ON PEACEFUL POINT. After the ejectment of the hobo Fernald and Hammerswell remained some little time before the bar, talking earnestly in low tones. The whisky seemed to have a bad effect on Fernald. He grew flushed and excited. His indignation increased steadily as he thought of the trap into which he had fallen, and he repeatedly asserted his desire to square up with Buckhart. “It’s not enough to simply dope the fellow!” he growled. “Be still,” cautioned Hammerswell, touching his companion’s wrist. “Don’t let any one hear you speaking of that.” “I know what I’ll do,” said the Rockford sharp. “I’ll have that fresh young fellow put out of business to-night unless he sticks close to this hotel.” “Put out of business?” “Yes.” “How?” “I know a way. I’d like to thump him myself, but I don’t want to take part in it. I’ll find the boys to do it. Let’s have another drink.” After drinking again Fernald bade Hammerswell “so-long,” promising to meet him within an hour at the same bar. “That’ll give me time to get the dope,” whispered Hammerswell. “I think I’ll have it ready for you then.” Having left the hotel, Fernald turned down the street that led toward a part of the place known as Peaceful Point. This name was a misnomer, for Peaceful Point was anything but peaceful. In fact, it was the most dangerous and degraded section of Rockford. The most disreputable characters of the place lived on the point, where there were a number of low saloons, kitchen barrooms, gambling rooms, and other resorts of bad repute. Although it was said to be dangerous for a well-dressed man to venture onto the Point after dark, Fernald proceeded thither unhesitatingly. The street was crooked, the houses in need of repair and paint, and the neighborhood ill-smelling.