In the morning Merry arose much refreshed, even though he had retired late. The theatrical business had accustomed him to late hours. He ate a good breakfast, and was on hand when court opened. He saw the prisoners arraigned, and, to his unspeakable disappointment, Bart Hodge was not among them. “But Hodge is here in St. Jo.,” thought Frank. “That is, he is here unless, after seeing me last night, he took alarm and fled. It’s probable he may have done that. It was foolish for me to shout to him just as the police were breaking in.” It was useless, however, to regret this action. Frank went to Kelley’s barroom. The place was wide open and doing business, as if nothing had happened. Merry inquired about Hodge, and, after a time, Kelley seemed to remember Bart. “Dark-faced chap,” said Kelley. “Rafferty sent him here, same as he did you?” “Yes,” nodded Frank, eagerly. “You want to find him?” “Yes.” “I dunno how you will.” “I’ll give twenty-five dollars to find him!” cried Merry. A man who had been listening stepped forward. “Do you mean that, young feller?” he asked. “I do!” declared Frank. “Will you give me that to tell you where to find him?” “I will.” “All right. I know the fellow you mean. He said he had a lot of money, or he made some of Mike Roper’s gang believe he had. But the gang got left on him, for they didn’t find enough on him to pay them for doping him.” “Then Hodge has fallen in with a tough crowd?” “He’s the only one to blame for it. They’d let him alone if he hadn’t put up such a bluff about having a lot of money.” “And he didn’t have any?” “Well, Frosty Ike said he didn’t have enough to buy drinks for the crowd all round.” “Take me to him. You shall have the money I said I would give.” Frank followed the man from the saloon. “Now, look here,” said the stranger, who was rather disreputable in appearance, “you’ve got to promise not to blow to a living soul that I put you onto this.” “I’ll agree to that,” said Frank. “And you’ve got to agree not to pull me into court over it.” “If you are pulled into court it will be well worth your while.” The man stopped, irresolutely. “I don’t reckon I’ll go along with ye,” he said. “I can’t afford to get Frosty Ike down on me.” “Who’s Frosty Ike?” “The worst man in St. Jo. He eats railroad iron when he’s hungry! I wouldn’t make him a bite.” “Well, now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you lead me to my friend you shall have the twenty-five dollars. If it is true that this Frosty Ike and his gang have not robbed my friend there will be no danger of your getting into court. If they have robbed him I’ll give you a hundred dollars to testify against them, in case I think it best to prosecute. I may not prosecute.” “You will have to agree not to prosecute before I’ll go any further. I wouldn’t get mixed up with Ike for two hundred dollars.”