Martin did not allow the two men to get very far away from him, and he watched them as closely as a cat would a mouse every moment they were talking together. “Those two men are in bad shape,” Nick said. “Well, you did the hitting, I didn’t.” “That won’t make any difference. We’d both have to stand trial if we should get caught.” “Oh, come off! Nothing can be done to a man for knocking out a highway robber.” “Ah!” thought Nick, “he has been getting some advice from my friend Martin.” “Look here,” said Martin, advancing to where the two men were standing, and addressing Nick, “this man and I have an engagement to-night, and we don’t intend to have any outsiders forced upon us. If you have transacted your business with him you’d better walk away.” “That’s right,” said Amos, now completely under the control of the master mind; “you did me a good turn in there, and I’m much obliged to you, but I’ve got business with this man just now.” Nick regarded both men with a countrified stare for a moment, and then walked away. “It’s a good thing,” he thought, “that I tumbled to the racket before we got started for the stables. The man would certainly have suspected something. “Now, then,” he said to Chick, as the two again stood together, “you follow these men over and locate the horse. You may report to me at the house at eight o’clock in the morning.” As Chick placed himself in a position to watch every movement of the men he was shadowing, Nick stepped into a restaurant and ordered a liberal meal. This concluded, he walked into a saloon next door and sat down in a private stall. Five minutes later a respectable-looking, middle-aged business man walked out of the stall and took his way toward one of the most popular gambling dens in that portion of the city. The place was crowded, and faro, roulette, and stud-poker tables were running full blast. As Nick supposed it would be, the talk was all about the race. He bought a stack of white chips, and sat down at the end of a faro table, playing very slowly and listening to every word that was said around him. “Well, old sport,” said the dealer, familiarly, to a well-dressed gentleman who entered and bought a stack of yellows, “you must have struck luck to-day. Any news?” “No,” said the person addressed, with a laugh, “nothing except that a fellow bought Denver Bay for a hundred at fifteen to one.” “That ain’t so bad,” said a player at the opposite end of the table. “The horse may win.” “I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” said the man behind the yellow chips, “I’ll go you twenty to one that the horse don’t get a show.” The man subsided, and Nick shoved a fifty-dollar bill toward the speaker. “I’ll take that bet,” he said, coolly. “All right,” said the player, taking out a roll of bills. “Here’s the money. Who’ll hold the stakes?” Nick called up one of the proprietors, stated the bet, and put the money into his hand.