He entered the taxicab, and was rapidly whirled toward his stopping place. His mind was filled with thoughts of his steam yacht, and with chance adventures that might happen on the cruise. Possibly, if he had seen the actions of the two men, immediately after his departure, he would have not felt so easy. For the twain, no sooner had Dick entered his vehicle, summoned another. "Follow that car," directed the taller of the pair. "Don't let it get away from you, and there's a fiver in it." "You're rather free with the old man's money, ain't you, Sam?" asked the short man, with a laugh. "Might as well be. He's so close-fisted that it'll do him good to be bled a bit. But hit it up, sport," this to the chauffeur of the taxicab they were in. "I don't want to lose our young friend." "All right," was the answer, and after Dick's vehicle sped the other, containing the two men who were shadowing him. CHAPTER VI DICK ENTERS THE TRAP The young millionaire was hungry, after the three hours spent in the theatre, and, knowing of a restaurant famed for its late suppers, Dick determined to go there, partly to see some of the gayer side of life in New York at midnight, and partly to satisfy his appetite. Accordingly he gave directions to the chauffeur, who, after speeding the machine down Broadway, turned into Twenty-third Street. As the vehicle swung around the corner a lad, who was crossing the thoroughfare, had to jump nimbly to get out of the way. He reached the curb, and standing there shook his fist at the occupants of the taxicab--Dick and the driver. "What's the matter?" cried the lad who had so nearly escaped being run down. "Ain't the street big enough for you? Or do you want to chase folks up on the sidewalk?" "Aw, beat it!" retorted the chauffeur, with all the contempt some automobilists feel for pedestrians. He had slowed up at the turn, but was about to turn on more power. "Wait! Hold on a minute!" cried Dick, leaning forward at the sound of the other lad's voice, and a sight of his face in the gleam of an electric lamp. "How are you, Tim Muldoon?" For a moment the other stared at the well-dressed youth in the taxicab, for the vehicle had come to a stop. Then over the features came a look of glad surprise. "Why, if it isn't Mr. Hamilton!" cried the lad in the street. "Who'd ever think to see you here? How are you, Mr. Hamilton?" "Make it Dick, if you don't mind, Tim," suggested the millionaire's son. "I'm Dick and you're Tim," and the wealthy lad reached out and shook hands with the lad, whom he had once befriended as a "fresh-air kid," and who, later, he had set up in the newspaper business. Tim Muldoon, a typical New York newsboy, had accompanied Dick on a trip out west, to inspect a gold mine, and had been instrumental in aiding him. Our hero had not seen his protégé in some time, though he knew him at once when the auto so nearly ran him down.