August Bordine stood handcuffed and a prisoner, his face the picture of utter astoundment.

It was too dark, however, for the detective to note the look on the face of the young engineer.

"I hope you will go with me peaceably," uttered Keene, as he clutched the arm of his prisoner to lead him away.

"Mr. Keene, this is astounding. I thought you were my friend," finally uttered the young engineer, in a voice quivering with emotion.

"You are a skilled and slippery villain, young man, but you cannot throw me off the scent by any such pretense as this. I've trapped too many criminals, and heard their smooth talk. Let me tell you that I heard your confession to your wife, that you murdered Victoria Vane and robbed the house."

Bordine trembled under the detective's hand.

"Come."

"But I tell you there is some mistake, sir. My name is Bordine, and—"

"I do not care to listen just now," interrupted Silas Keene. I know my duty."

"I doubt it," retorted Bordine angrily. "I will make you smart for this."

The young man walked on, however, and when in the vicinity of the city lockup, the detective turned from the street to cross a vacant lot. They were thus in a gloomy spot, and compelled to pass near the edge of a deep hollow, an excavation made a long time before for a cellar.

Just at this point a dark form glided up behind the detective and dealt him a stunning blow on the head, felling him to the ground.

"Thar, pardner, I reckon that beak won't git no furder with his pris'ner."

Bordine was dumbfounded.

Who was the rough-spoken man who had come to his rescue by perhaps dealing the detective a death-blow?

"He put the darbies on, did he?"

Bordine held up his manacled hands. The gruff-spoken individual fumbled with them a moment, and then, to his great joy, Bordine found his wrists free.

The stranger had done him a good turn indeed.

Now the young engineer was anxious about the detective's fate; who he realized, had been acting in good faith no matter how foolishly he had blundered.

"I'm allus on hand like a thumb," chuckled the man who had rescued
Bordine.

"You had keys to fit the handcuffs?"

"Took 'em from the bloke's pocket."

"I see."

Then, as he cast the bracelets from him, August bent over the prostrate form of Silas Keene.

"I'm afraid you've seriously injured the man," said August lowly.

"Wal, nobody'll cry ef I have," grated the rescuer, "I expect we'd better make sure of the job and then I kin claim the reward."

"Reward."

"Why, confound it, the rhino you promised me ef I'd knife the cursed beak who was on yer trail."

"Oh yes, to be sure," returned the young engineer, who by this time began to "catch on" to the true situation.

It was evident that a grave mistake had been made, and Bordine resolved to carry on the deception with a view to learning something of the intentions of the villain or villains who had plotted the destruction of Keene.

"Let's see, how much was I to give you for this?"

"Durn it, that was fur you to say, Andy. I want you to be liberal now."

"Yes, you've done me a good turn to-night and I'm not unmindful of it, but I don't happen to have any money on my person just at present. Suppose you call 'round to-morrow evening about this time."

"When you'll be out of the kentry mebbe," retorted the other with a growl of dissatisfaction.

"You ought to know me better than that," rebuked the engineer.

"I know ye fur jest that caper, Andy Barkswell."

So that was the man he was supposed to represent. There was something familiar in the ring of the man's voice, too. Where had he heard it before?

"Well, sir, I can't pay you anything to-night. You appoint a place of meeting and I will be there, don't you fear," returned the young engineer, after a moment given to reflection.

"Wal, ef that's yer game, I'll meet ye at Billy Bowleg's saloon, to-morrer at this time. Is't a bargain?"

"It's a bargain, Perry."

Then the two clasped hands.

August Bordine recognized the man now as the tramp who had assaulted Victoria Vane, that day, when he was up at Eastman's woods on a hunting excursion. He was the same man he had seen enter the saloon so Silas Keene came along, and it was this saloon that the tramp had named as the place for the next meeting. It was well. The engineer resolved to be on hand and make sure of the burly scoundrel who, August Bordine was sure, had murdered Victoria Vane.

"Now, pard, hadn't I better gin the hound another tap on the head?"
Referring to the insensible detective.

"No, leave him to me, old fellow. You have done your complete share in disposing of the man-tracker. I will complete the work."

"Better dump him in yender."

"No."

Perry Jounce said no more, but moved swiftly away in the gloom.

Then August Bordine hastened for assistance.

He found a hack, and had the insensible detective borne to his home, which was not reached until nearly midnight.

When the man-tracker opened his eyes, he found himself in a cozy room, snugly ensconsed on a huge sofa, with the fumes of a hot sling in his nostrils.

"Taste this, Mr. Keene, and you will feel better."

It was August Bordine, with a hot drink for the detective. For a moment the man-hunter could scarcely believe his senses.

He sipped the hot sling, and afterward felt better, so that he sat up and gazed about him. It was the same room he had visited earlier in the evening, but the picture of home comfort was not the same, on account of the absence of the comfortable form and motherly face of Mrs. Bordine, who had retired long since to rest.

Silas Keene's senses were yet in a daze, and his head ached enough to split. He glanced at the pleasant face of the young engineer, then about the room, as if wondering where he was.

"You are puzzled, Mr. Keene."

"Well, I should say so," returned the detective. "I cannot account for it, nohow."

"This is my home, Mr. Keene, and you are welcome to remain here until you choose to depart. I would like for you to make it your home while you remain in the city."

"But," gasped the detective, "how does it come that I am here?"

"I had you brought here in a hack."

"Was it you that knocked me over?"

"No, indeed," smiled Bordine. "I was never known to assault an officer."

"Then how—"

"I will explain."

The young engineer did so, telling all the circumstances and concluding with:

"I am as deeply puzzled as you can be, at the man's motive in rescuing me from your hands. Evidently he mistook me for another person, since he addressed me as Andrew Barkswell."

"And is not that your name?"

"Certainly not. I hope you did not make the same mistake. Evidently you did, for, if my memory serves me, you addressed me by that name as well as my own when you arrested me last night."

"Last night?"

"Yes. It is quite morning now."

"And you have been with me all night?"

"Yes, and summoned a physician. You see I was afraid you had been seriously injured."

Silas Keene bowed his head in thought for some moments. At length he looked up and held out his hand.

"Mr. Bordine, I have been a confounded fool."

"I hope not."

Yet the young man could not repress a laugh at the queer expression resting on the countenance of the detective.

"I arrested you for murder."

"Yes."

"For the murder of the Vane girl."

"Yes. You were in a hurry to win the reward—I forgive you, sir. It was simply a mistake."

"And might have proved a grievous one."

"Certainly. I am satisfied that it is no worse."

"And you can forgive me?"

"Certainly."

The two men clasped hands in apparent friendship.

Nevertheless the detective had a lingering suspicion that he was making more of a fool of himself than ever. He tried to smother this, and to appear frank and genial before Bordine. If the man before him was not Barkswell, then he resembled him so closely as to defy detecting the difference.

"I will watch and wait," thought Keene, "and not make another move until
I am certain of the facts."

"Now that we understand each other," proceeded Bordine, "I wish to make a bargain with you."

"Proceed."

"I promised to meet this tramp, whose real name is Perry Jounce, I believe, at Billy Bowleg's saloon to-morrow evening, for the purpose of rewarding him for his villainy."

"Yes."

"I find that my other duties will compel me to remain away, but if you will look after the appointment I shall be glad. You can take all the help you need, and make sure of this tramp, and may help break up a bad nest as well. What do you say?"

"I will do it of course."

"Thanks. Now lie here and rest. You need to be recuperated, for the work is hard." "I will do so."

Then bidding his guest good-night, the young engineer left the room.

As he had said it was almost day dawn, and one person was early astir, at least in the city, a man who had been listening at the slightly raised window to the conversation going on between Bordine and the detective.

"It is well," he muttered with a chuckle of delight as he hurried away.