At last he returned and announced that the coast was clear. "Come along," he added. "If I can only get you safe out on Pell street it is all I ask, but understand one thing, if we are spotted, I beat it. You will have to look out for yourself in that case. I have my own life to save." "All right," said Harry. "Lead on." They hurried along the passage and came to a flight of rickety wooden steps. Joe Ding stopped to listen. "It is all right," he said. "You don't hear anything, do you?" "Not a sound." "Good! Come!" They started up the steps then. Joe Ding, we should have mentioned, carried an ordinary lantern. The Chinaman was ahead, and no sooner had he reached the top of the steps than he ran against trouble. Instantly three Chinamen rose up from the floor and flung themselves upon him. Such another snarling scrap for a moment there never was. It was like a cat fight. Harry jumped in to help. There was no chance. The lantern went down and was extinguished. At the same instant someone came tumbling down the steps. Whoever it was bowled Harry off his feet and he went down, too. The man sprang up and chased off along the passage, but poor Harry hit his head as he fell, and half stunned, was slow to rise. Before he could get on his feet the enemy was upon him. A flashlight was displayed. Harry was seized and thrown down again. There were five Chinks in it now. Joe Ding was not among them. Two bent over Young King Brady, one choking him until he was helpless. Another producing a bottle, forced him to swallow some vile tasting stuff. This settled it. Young King Brady's brain quickly began to whirl. In a very few moments he was unconscious. Joe Ding's plan had failed. True to his threat, he promptly "beat it" when trouble came, leaving poor Harry still in the power of the Chinese of the secret dens of Pell street. CHAPTER IX. ED FALLS INTO NEW HANDS. It would seem as if the brothers of the Red Door tong were especially addicted to drugging. Ed got his dose in the boat, as has been told. When the boy awoke it was not to full consciousness. He felt like one in a dream. He was lying in the bottom of a boat naked. An old tarpaulin had been thrown over him, but just then Ed did not realize what it was. He could feel the motion of the boat as it bobbed about. He could hear the lapping of the waves, but there were no other sounds until at last a steamboat whistle gave a dismal croak. But each moment served to brighten the boy's brain, until at last he threw off the tarpaulin and sat up. At first he fancied that he was still in the boat under that pier up in the Bronx. Dim and misty were his recollections. It seemed to Ed that the attack by the Chinamen, the shooting of Pow Chow, and all that followed, must have been a dream. It was certainly the same boat, and there was nobody in it but himself. A rope made it fast to a pile, it was floating about under the pier.