It was noon on Monday. Will spent his dinner-hour in Independence Square, a spot sacred to his old associates of boot-blacking propensities.

He had given up eating for the pleasure of interviewing. He had already had an earnest talk with some half a dozen of the boys, and now approached another, who was just entering the Square from Walnut street.

The latter was a boy of Will’s own age, a bare-footed, bare-armed, ragged young citizen, with a keen, wide-awake look on his not overly clean face.

“Hallo, Joe!” cried Will.

“Well, I’ll be swagged if it ain’t Willful Will!” cried Joe, taking Will’s offered hand.

“How goes it, old crony?” said Will.

“Old-fashioned. You’ve been on the coast and know the ropes. Well, if you ain’t got up gallus! New shoes, and paper-collar, and a ribbon on his hat! Must have dropped into a fortune.”

“I am in a store, Joe. We must dress, you know, in better toggery than you want here.”

“In a store, hey? Know’d you’d come to something. Does it pay, Will? Ain’t it dreadful wearing? Seems to me I’d seem like a sparrow in a cage.”

“I did at first,” said Will, drawing his friend to a seat. “You soon get broke in, though. I like it better than the street now.”

“Is that so?” said Joe, looking at Will as at one who has made a successful voyage of discovery. “Shoot me if I ain’t got a notion of trying it. I’m getting too big for this job. How did you get a place?”

“I asked for it, and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I jist captured it.”

“You’re the chap for that,” said Joe, admiringly. “Wish you’d work me in somewhere. You must be getting to know folks.”

“I’ll work for you,” answered Will. “It’s about time you was giving up this trade. You’re well posted about town yourself, Joe.”

“Not among bizness folks. Know a good deal about down-towners. Ain’t many cribs I haven’t been in or smelt out.”

“Bet I could name some what would stump you.”

“Bet you couldn’t,” said Joe.

“I’ll go ten cents I can.”

“I’ll cover it,” said Joe, producing a piece of soiled currency of that value. “But you ain’t to go on all day. Won’t give you but three chances.”

“That’s square,” said Will. “Let’s see now. Where’s Ned Hogan’s Retreat?”

“Shippen, below Second, and one chance sold cheap,” said Joe, triumphantly.

“Where’s Tim the Tinker’s crib? Think I’ve got you there.”

“Not by a jug full,” cried Joe, with an eager laugh. “It’s on Beach street, above Brown. Guess I’ll rake down them tens.”

“You’re pretty well posted, Joe,” said Will, with a reflective pause. “Calculate to throw you on the next, though.”

“’Tain’t in the wood,” said Joe, confidently.

“It’s a namesake of yours. You ought to know your own relations. Where’s Black-eyed Joe’s Mill?”

Will gazed at him triumphantly, as Joe sat scratching his head, with an air of reflection.

“That’s my cash,” he said.

“Hold up,” said Joe. “Give a feller time to think. I don’t know him by that name. But I’ve got a notion I could nail him. Ain’t goin to give up the bet till it’s settled.”

“Who’s the man you’re thinking of?”

“It’s Joe Prime, that keeps the confidential house in a little street off South street. He’s got eyes as black as coal, and I once heard his place called the mill. You’re sold, Will. Pass over them tens.”

“He’s a fence, then, and keeps a stock of burglar’s goods in store?”

“That’s him,” said Joe. “I follered some light-fingered nobs there once, and nailed him. Pass over.”

“I’ve a notion you’ve nailed it, Joe,” said Will. “Meet me on the corner of the alley to-night before eight, and we’ll settle.”

“What the blue blazes is that for?” asked Joe, suspiciously. “Are you trying to sell on me? If you are, I’m blowed if I can’t polish you.”

“You never seen the day you could do that, Joe. And nobody knows it better than you. Can’t say now if there’s anything in the wind or no. Jist meet me there, that’s all.”

“I never tramp on a blind scout.”

“I want you. Ain’t that enough?” said Will, impatiently. “You’re as curious as an old woman. Say half-past seven sharp, at the corner. I’ll tell you then if you’ve won your bet or not. Can’t tell now.”

Will spent the afternoon quietly in the store, ate a hasty and frugal supper, and reached the rendezvous at the hour named.

Joe was already there, lounging easily upon a curbstone in South street. He gazed wonderingly at Will.

“Well, I’m blowed,” he said, “if the feller ain’t dropped his store toggery and come out in his old rig. I can smell a rat now, and a big one.”

Will was hardly recognizable in the dilapidated suit he wore and in the highly ventilated hat, which he pulled down like a mask over his eyes.

“If things works well you’ll get something to cover this,” said Will, as he handed Joe the amount of the bet. “Seen anybody go up the alley?”

“No, only been here five minutes.”

“Let’s look in, then. Show me the house.”

The two boys strolled carelessly into the narrow street. It was just wide enough to let a wagon through comfortably, and ended abruptly at a similar street running at right angles to it.

It was bordered by houses on each side, of fair size for the location, but in very bad condition.

On the corner of the second small street stood a house of more pretensions. It was a three-storied brick, of wide front. The main room, on the corner, was used as a bar-room, bearing an unpretentious sign of “Imported Wines and Liquors.” The name of the landlord, “Joe Prime,” accompanied this very dubious announcement.

The place seemed well patronized, and the noise within gave evidence of the exciting qualities of Joe Prime’s liquors, if it said little for their purity.

“That’s not the place,” said Will, decisively; “might as well make a fence-shop of the custom-house.”

“There are other ways in,” said Joe, leading round the corner.

Will now saw that the house extended a considerable distance back, with a yard fence along this second street. A gate in this fence stood very slightly ajar.

“That’s the back doorway,” said Joe.

“I want a squint at the landlord now,” said Will, pushing into the bar-room, through the throng of loungers.

Behind the bar was a flashily-dressed young fellow with as much evil in his face as it would conveniently hold, busily dealing out liquor to his customers.

As Will stood, looking sharply through the throng of customers, a door behind the bar opened, and a man in his shirt-sleeves entered. A glance told him that this was the person who had been described to him, and satisfied him that it was the man he wanted.

He was small but stoutly built, swarthy almost as an Indian, with straight black hair, and eyes of deep blackness.

Will slipped quietly out of the room.

“That’s Black-eyed Joe,” he said, on meeting his friend outside.

“What comes next, then?”

“I ’spect some folks here at eight o’clock. They’ll be like to take the gate for it, but might try the front-door.”

“Yes. What then?”

“You and me are to see them, and fix their photographs in our heads. You take your stand here, where you’ve got a set at the front door. You’re posted in thieves and sich, and don’t let any go in without your nailing them. I’ll take my squint at the gate. I think it’s like my fellers will take that route.”

Will’s way of taking the gate was to coil himself in a heap against the opposite fence, and to be apparently lost in slumber.

He slept, however, with both eyes wide open.

He had not been there five minutes before a man came quietly up the alley, looking suspiciously around. He saw Will, but paid no attention to him. In an instant he had opened the gate and disappeared in the yard.

Ten minutes passed of Will’s silent watch, when two men came along in company.

He expected they would pass by, but they boldly opened the gate and passed in, closing it behind them.

A half-hour of Will’s silent watch had passed, and he was about to give it up, under the impression that all his birds were caged, when a fourth man came along.

Will watched to see if he, too, would pass by. He came on with a hesitating step, his hat drawn down low over his eyes, and his hand stroking his whisker in such a way that half his face was hidden.

The boy lay quiet as death, not a muscle moving.

The new-comer paused a moment opposite the gate, glancing furtively around; then, with a quick, stealthy movement he opened it and slipped in.

“Bet a goose I know you,” said Will to himself, as he rose to his feet. “Won’t there be ructions when I let the cat out of the bag! Guess the ’coons are all treed now. What’s the news, Joe?”

“Nothing,” said the latter, who had approached on seeing Will rise. “They’re all lambs my side of the house. What’s your luck?”

“Four foxes,” said Will, pointing to the gate. “There’s their hole,” he continued.

He indicated a window in the second story, in which a light had just appeared. A curtain inside came down to within an inch of the bottom.

“Want to follow it up?” asked Joe.

“If it’s in the wood.”

“Let’s shin it up that shed, then. We can climb like squirrels. It’s risky, but if there’s anything in it we ain’t afeard of risk.”

“I’m your hoss,” was Will’s sententious answer.

There was no one in the street just then. The shed came down nearly to the fence. In a second more they were stretched flat on the low shed.

Joe crept to the window and looked in.

“What luck!” whispered Will, as his companion dropped his head.

“Bully!” replied Joe, in a like tone. “The whole four are in, and Joe Prime with them. Jist worm up this way, and take a squint.”