The end of the match was not long postponed. Mullin had lost his head, and he quickly gave his opponent an opening that was accepted. A smashing blow on the jaw sent Tapper down and out. In fact, fully ten minutes elapsed before Mullin fully recovered. During those ten minutes the stranger was congratulated by several witnesses, including Bingo McCord. “You’re a better man dan Mullin,” confessed Bingo. “If I didn’t have a little business on my hands to-night I’d try you a go myself. What’s your name?” “It’s Hepworth Hoboson,” was the answer. “I’m usually called Hep for short.” “Well, Hep, you’re a rattler, and dat’s straight goods. Are you going to stay round dese parts?” “I may linger till I git restless,” laughed Hoboson. “I can’t stay very long in one place, for I adore traveling.” “Well, as long as you stay here dis is de gang for you to run wid,” said McCord. “We’ll take you in wid us. What do you say, Skip?” “Why, sure,” nodded Billings. Mullin made no objection, and in this manner Hoboson was accepted as one of the tough set of Peaceful Point. Although he did not call attention to the fact, Hep Hoboson was skillful in yet another manner. With the craft of a juggler he managed to spill the contents of every glass set before him, emptying the stuff into a sawdust-filled box that served as a cuspidor and stood close under the rail of the bar. Not even a swallow passed his lips. Once or twice he was seen lowering his empty glass, as if he had drunk the contents, and the suspicions of his companions were not aroused. McCord seemed to take Hoboson into his confidence, for he asked the fellow to join them in going after Brad Buckhart. “I’ve got good coin on der game to-morrer,” said Bingo, “and I want to make it a sure t’ing dat Rockford wins. Wid dis catcher in der hospital, dem island chaps will be a cinch.” Thus it came about that the tramp was one of the party that left the Point in search of Buckhart. Tom Fernald was smoking a cigarette in front of the Corndike Hotel when McCord and his companions passed. Fernald made a signal that caused McCord to step aside. “Buckhart is out for a walk now,” said the late manager of the Rockford team. “Merriwell is with him. They turned up Granite Street.” “All right,” muttered Bingo. “We’ll try to find him. Der four of us can put dem two guys out of business in about ten seconds.” Talking of baseball matters, Brad and Dick had turned to retrace their course to the hotel when they were met by McCord and his gang near the outskirts of the town. It happened that there was no street light in the immediate vicinity, and the spot was a favorable one for the purpose of the ruffians. “Here dey are!” hissed McCord, as the unsuspecting boys appeared. “Git into dem and make a quick job, pals.” To the astonishment of McCord and his friends, Hoboson uttered a shout of warning. “Look out, boys!” he cried. “They are going to slug you!”