In ignorance of the keen watch kept over their movements by their enemies they went their ways, while the young plotters began to hastily carry into action their plans. “You say the kid lives on Grove Street. That is well out in the suburbs. By cutting across we can intercept him. You do this and hold him up under some pretext at the corner of Ash and Midland Streets. I will be on hand with a couple of officers. He will just answer the descriptions given of that boy who has run away from the State school for young criminals, and we not only turn him over, but get the reward. That’s what I call making both ends meet.” “Now get busy,” said Tim, when the precious pair separated to carry out their plans. As Tim was about to leave the _Warrior_ he was accosted by Colonel Darringford. The usually austere owner of the boat appeared now very much the worse for his liberal potations of liquor. “See here, youngster,” he said, crooking his finger toward Tim. “I wanner see you minute.” “Yes, colonel,” replied Tim promptly, approaching the spot where the colonel stood. The latter was unable to stand alone, and held to the steamer rail. “You boy who tol’ me ’bout new st--sthe--steamer, hey?” “Correct, colonel!” “Sure there’s one?” “Dead sure!” “Mustn’t be ’lowed to ’danger business prospix--pects, eh, boy?” “No, sir.” “You said you could stop boat, eh?” “I did.” “Do it, say nothing, and take the--that!” The colonel made a dive for his pocket, and a lunge for Tim. Tim allowed him to tumble pell-mell to the deck, once he had secured the roll of banknotes that the colonel proffered him. “I’ll fix the boat, never fear!” cried Tim. “Hooray! Two hundred! Crackey! I’ll have a time of it!” Rodney Darringford, curious to see what his father could want of his confederate, whom he found useful but whom he detested as “a lowdown, miserable wharf rat,” as he often called him, lingered while the above conversation took place. As he saw Tim about to hasten ashore, he called a deckhand to assist his father to the cabin. A minute later, he had reached the wharf with Tim Downey. “Unlimber yer tongue,” said Tim, as soon as they reached the narrow street into which Rodney had led the way. “What did the governor say to you?” “Ye don’t stop to think that it might be me who had something to say to him,” replied Tom doggedly. To speak the truth, he did not like this interference. “You needn’t be so all-fired tongue-tied,” exclaimed the other. “I guess it is as much for your interest as it is for mine to be sociable.” “Jess as ye say, Rod. Only hadn’t we better ’tend to the kid fust. I’ll meet ye at Jimson’s ’s soon ’s thet ’fair is done.” “You are right, Tim. But don’t fail to be on hand. You know you will want to get your divvy.” Tim muttered something under his breath which the other did not hear, and the couple separated each to do his part of the work they had planned. * * * * * “Isn’t she a beauty?”