A loud-voiced fellow appeared and made an announcement. He delivered quite a speech, explaining how the referee had been chosen, and finally introduced the referee, who followed with a speech of his own, in which he boasted so much of his squareness that Frank decided he must be a great rascal. Then there was a howl from the assembled crowd: “There comes the Maverick!” Swathed in a blanket, one of the principals entered the roped arena, accompanied by his second. The crowd thundered its applause, and he bowed his bullet head several times in acknowledgment, finally sitting down in a corner. Then came the other fighter, also wrapped about by a blanket, and the audience howled still more hoarsely. Frank paid very little attention to this. He scarcely noted what followed. Finally he heard the clang of a gong, and then he knew the fighters were at it. He glanced toward the “squared circle” and saw them sparring, lunging, dashing, retreating and dancing about each other, but his heart was sinking more and more as he failed to see anything of the one person he sought. And then, right in the midst of the very first round, came a startling cry: “The police! the police!” “We’re raided!” There was a hammering at the doors. At that very instant Frank Merriwell’s eyes rested on the face of the one he sought. There he was, almost directly opposite. “Bart!” he shouted—“Bart Hodge!” Hodge must have heard the cry, for he looked across and his eyes found Frank’s. A moment later Hodge was swept out of sight by the stampeding crowd. Frank felt himself lifted, carried, whirled about, borne onward despite himself. He struggled to run back, to force his way toward the spot where he had seen Hodge. It was useless. Bang! bang! bang!—the police were hammering at the heavy doors. Crash!—a door fell. The police rushed in and the lights went out! How it happened Frank Merriwell was unable to tell, but in the darkness he was swept along through a doorway, down a flight of stairs, carried onward again by the rushing men, to finally stumble down another flight and grope his way out into the street by a basement door. He had escaped arrest, but had lost Hodge. He found his way back to the saloon where he had purchased the ticket, but that was in the hands of the police. Evidently the officers of St. Jo. were not so slow, after all. They had made a goodly haul, and patrol wagons were bearing the prisoners away by the twenties. “I’ll bet anything Hodge was nabbed!” thought Merry. “If so, that will be all the better, for I’ll be able to reach him when he is arraigned in court to-morrow morning.” Till midnight he remained up trying to find something of Hodge, and then he sought his hotel, more than satisfied that Bart had been captured by the police. In spite of his exciting adventure, Frank slept well after retiring to bed. He had a way of relaxing his nerves and throwing off all worry and care, enabling him to sleep under the most trying circumstances.