“Yes,” added Greer, “there will not be the slightest trouble.” “Well, count me out,” said Skip. “New York is getting too hot for me; I guess I’ll rusticate for a while.” “If you are going to Florida for the good of your health,” remarked Tambourine Jack, crossing one leg over the other, “count me in; my lungs ain’t very strong, and as for Crackers, he has consumption very bad. Haven’t you, old boy?” There was a knock on the room door and, without waiting to be invited in, the barmaid entered. “Skip,” she said, “a young woman outside wants to see you.” The ruffian followed the barmaid and found himself face to face with Dell Ladley. “You here!” he exclaimed. “You have nerve, at any rate. Don’t you know I will kill you?” “I care not,” she said, placing her hand tenderly on his shoulder. With an angry motion he removed it and caught her by the throat. “I said I would kill you!” he hoarsely cried, his grip becoming tighter and tighter. The poor girl grew black in the face; she tried to speak, but the sounds were lost in gurgles. “Don’t kill her,” said one of the roughs who crowded the place. “What is the matter?” cried Shea, Greer and Tambourine Jack, who came into the outer room, attracted by the noise. “Matter enough. I have the traitress; she shall not escape me this time,” exclaimed the ruffian. The dog Crackers seemed to be a natural defender of everybody in trouble. He fastened his teeth in Skip’s thigh, causing that gentleman to yell with pain. “Down, Crackers, down,” cried Tambourine Jack, but the dog for once did not obey. “Do not murder her,” said Elmer Greer. “Don’t you interfere.” “I will, though,” exclaimed a man, making his way through the crowd that surrounded the villain. “Nick Carter!” shouted some one, in the crowd, and everybody rushed from the place, except the barmaid, Brodie and his intended victim. “Demon or whatever you are!” cried Skip, as he allowed the now senseless girl to drop from his grasp, “is it possible you can read tracks in the water as Indians read them on land?” “You are my prisoner,” said the detective, drawing a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. Once again that night he had saved Dell Ladley’s life. He was as much surprised to see the girl there as was Skip Brodie, when the latter met her face to face. Poor girl! She knew the detective would come hunting for Skip, and she had determined to warn him. Dell was not, as the ruffian thought, a traitress. Old Man Moses deliberately lied when he said so. “I’ll not go with you,” exclaimed Skip, making a dash for the door. “Oh, yes, you will.” The detective struck out with his fist and the ruffian fell like a log. It was the work of a minute for Nick to fix the bracelets. While he was doing so, the barmaid approached from behind with a heavy pitcher in her hand, intending to lay him out. A warning growl from Crackers, who, strange to say, had not left the place, caught Nick’s attention.