Bingo had made no mistake in saying he knew where to find one of his pals. At McGinnis’ place he was admitted to the room where the poker game was in progress, and he appeared just as one of the sailors vociferously announced that he had been cheated. There were five persons in the game, and three of them proceeded to jump on the two sailors without a moment’s delay. The encounter that followed was decidedly brief, for McCord sailed into it and McGinnis himself took a hand. In less than two minutes the sailors, badly battered and minus their money, found themselves kicked into the street. McCord tapped a tall, perspiring, red-headed chap on the shoulder. “Seems ter me I dropped around jest in time, Mullin,” he said. “That’s what!” growled Mullin, with a surly grin. “I saw you smash one of them chaps under the ear and drop him into the corner. They squealed over losing a little money. I’ve got some of it in my clothes. Come over to Pete Daley’s and I’ll blow you off.” “Over to Pete’s it is,” said McCord, in satisfaction. “I was jest going to invite you over dere meself. Dere’s something doing, Tapper. I want ter find Skip Billings.” “Skip hangs around Pete’s most of the time.” Together they proceeded to Daley’s barroom, which was well filled with disreputable-looking and thirsty individuals. Neither of them noted that as they entered the young hobo followed at their heels, almost knocking against them. Skip Billings, who had a broken nose and was thoroughly vicious in his appearance, was leaning against one end of the bar. McCord and Mullin joined him. “This is on me,” said Mullin, as he ordered beer. “I beg your pardon, gents!” exclaimed the hobo, as he seemed to lose his balance and stumbled in among them. “Awful slippery floor! Don’t waste your money. I will pay for the suds.” “Well, dat saves you a swipe on de jaw,” said McCord. “You want ter be careful about butting inter dis bunch or you may git your block knocked off.” The hobo looked them over in an interesting manner. “One, two, three,” he counted, motioning toward each one of them with his finger. “Mebbe there’s enough of you to do it.” “What’s that?” the trio exclaimed in a breath, as they turned toward him. “Wait a minute! wait a minute!” urged the tramp, holding up his hand. “After I pay for the suds you can try it if you want to. No use to fool yourself out of a drink in your haste.” McCord began to laugh. “I guess dat’s right, stranger,” he admitted. “We’ll drink on you and den we’ll kick your face in.” The tramp did not appear to be frightened. Instead of that, standing in their midst, he coolly paid for the drinks from a small amount of loose change. “The last of a misspent fortune,” he said dolefully. “When that’s gone I’ll have to work—or steal. What’s the use to quarrel, gents? Mebbe the three of you can put me out in short order, but I will go any one of you singly at any old thing. I will run, jump, wrastle, or fight any man in the place.”