Merry thought of his first battle with Hodge one moonlight night in an old pasture at Fardale. That fight had not been finished, but Frank recalled how like a fiend the black-haired boy had struggled. Since that time he had seen Bart in many encounters, and always Hodge had fought with the same terrible fierceness, as if he was burning with a desire to kill his antagonist. Such a fellow would take pleasure in witnessing a bloody and brutal prize fight—a fight to a finish. Somehow Frank’s sympathy for Hodge lessened. Had Bart taken the money because he was in need of it, had he taken it to pay debts, had he taken it with the hope of going somewhere and starting in business for himself, then Frank could have been more lenient. But for Hodge to seem to hasten with the stolen money straight to the companionship of “sports,” gamblers, prize fighters and men of that order—it was too much! “These men must not get away,” thought Frank. “I must follow them. I must find out where this fight is to take place and I must get into it.” The waiter brought his order. “If I could find this man Kelley of whom they were speaking,” thought Merry. “I know how to get there through him. Five dollars and the password, ‘upper cut,’ would do the trick.” He began to eat in haste, for he heard Muldoon remark: “We’d better be hustling, Rafferty. Der game will open at ten o’clock.” “I’ll be ready to go in a minute,” said the gambler. “Here, waiter, what’s the check?” Frank was very hungry, but he would have left his food untouched rather than to lose sight of them then. He bolted down a few mouthfuls and drank the cup of coffee he had ordered. By that time Muldoon and Rafferty had risen and were preparing to go. Frank called the waiter the moment the two men started for the door. “Check—quick!” he exclaimed. “Got to catch a train. Didn’t know it was so late.” The waiter gave him his check and he paid it in a hurry, flinging down a quarter extra, and, grabbing his hat, bolted for the door. Out on the street he was relieved to see Rafferty and Muldoon a short distance away, walking rapidly. Frank followed them. “I rather think you will lead me straight to Hodge,” he thought, exultantly. “If this was not a piece of luck! And it came just when I seemed wholly off the scent.” Neither of the men seemed to imagine they were followed, and so Frank had no trouble in shadowing them. At length the men turned into a side street. There it was somewhat more difficult to keep track of them, but Merry shadowed them without seeming to be doing anything of the sort. He kept track of all their twists and turns, unfamiliar with the city, though he was, and, at last, he saw them enter a saloon by a side door. Frank was not far behind them. He noticed that others were flocking into that saloon by the same side entrance.