"I don't owe you a cent, Fusty." "Yes, you do--and I'm bound to have it. Hold him, Mike, till I go through him." Of a sudden there was a struggle, and the man called Castor found himself helpless, while the fellow called Fusty began to go through his pockets with great rapidity. The scene alarmed Dick, and he wondered what he had best do. Then he made up his mind to go to Castor's assistance, and ran forward. "Here, let that man alone!" he cried, as he picked up a fence picket which happened to lie handy. "Leave him alone, I say!" "The Old Nick take the luck!" muttered one of the other men. "Who's this?" "Help! Help!" cried Castor. "Let him alone, I say!" repeated Dick, and then struck at one of the men and hit him on the arm. Seeing himself thus re-enforced, Castor also struck out, and continued to call for help. "We might as well give it up, Fusty!" cried one of the rascals, and took to his heels, and then there was nothing to do for the other man but to follow him. "Are you hurt?" asked Dick as he helped the man who had been assaulted to his feet. "Not much," was the slow reply. "Young man, you came in time and no more." "Do you know those fellows who just ran away?" "I met them at the circus this afternoon. We had several drinks and they became very friendly. I believe they were after my money." "I think so too, Mr." "My name is George Castor. And who are you?" "I am Dick Rover, sir." "Rover, I must thank you for your services. I shan't forget you, not me!" and George Castor held out his hand cordially. "I think I made a mistake by drinking with those fellows." "I haven't any doubt of it, Mr. Castor." "Do you reside in town?" "No, sir; I am stopping at the hotel with my brothers. We just came into town tonight on rather a curious errand." "Indeed, and what was that?" In a few words Dick explained the situation. He had not yet finished when George Castor interrupted him. "My boy, you have done me a good turn, and now I think I can return the compliment." "Do you mean to say you know something of this case?" demanded Dick eagerly. "Perhaps I do. Describe this Dan Baxter as well as you can, will you?" "Certainly." And Dick did so. "It is the same fellow. I met him last night, down near the lumber wharves. You see, I am a lumber merchant from Brooklyn, and I have an interest in a lumber company up here." "You saw Baxter? Was he alone?" "No, there was another man with him, a tall, slim fellow, with an unusually sour face." "Josiah Crabtree to a T!" burst out Dick. "Did you notice where they went?" "I did not. But I overheard their talk. They spoke about a boat on the Hudson River, the _Flyaway_. They were to join her at Albany." "Who was to join her?" "This Baxter, if it was he, and somebody else--a man called Muff, or something like that." "Mumps! You struck them, sure enough! But did they say anything about the girl?"