the studious young gentleman of half an hour ago was transformed into a
howling swell.

Tan-colored gloves and a heavy, silver-headed cane completed his
costume. Thus arrayed he sallied forth.

It was now nearly noon. The streets were crowded, and Sam kept his eyes
well opened, carelessly but keenly scrutinizing every man he met.

One saloon after another was visited, but no sight of the mysterious men
who had downed Chip could be obtained.

He had carefully noted his bearings when he left the alley in the
morning, so he had no trouble in finding the correct locality again.

His hat was tipped rakishly over his left eye as he swaggered up the
alley and entered a beer vault for which the alley was really the
entrance. By good luck, no customers were present, and Sam engaged in a
lively conversation with the bartender.

Skillful pumping, judiciously mixed with high-priced drinks, soon gave
Sam the entire history of the denizens of the locality.

It was beside the shed door of the beer vault that Sam had kept his
solitary watch and ward the previous night, so that somewhere about this
point Chip had been carried by his captors.

Gazing through the window, Sam saw a mass of debris; old cans, ashes and
the like were scattered in the center of the court or alley, while on
both sides, near the buildings, a narrow board walk was laid.