"
But it was not Ned, for there were noises in the hall, just beyond the
door, which indicated a struggle, and then a sharp voice called out:
"Cut it out, youse feller! Cut it out, or I'll bring out me educated
left. Let me alone, I say. I ain't no tramp."
Both boys recognized the voice, and Fremont hastened to unlock the door.
When it was opened the second surprise of the evening confronted the
fugitive. Jimmie McGraw stood in the hall threatening an angry waiter
with his clenched fists. Although the boy was small, and no match for
the waiter, he was exceedingly nimble, and the waiter was unable to lay
hands on him.
"He's tryin' to throw me out," exclaimed Jimmie, grinning at sight of
the boys. "Tell him it is all right."
"We are expecting the boy," Fremont said. "Kindly let him alone."
"I'm ordered to throw him out of the hotel," roared the waiter.
"He's a tramp."
Fremont pacified the fellow with a silver offering and, drawing
Jimmie inside of the room, closed the door. Then the three boys,
looking from one to the other, broke out in uproarious laughter.
For Jimmie was a sight to behold. His clothing was torn, and his
hands and face looked as if they had never seen water.
"How did you get down here?" asked Fremont, after a moment.
"I left you in New York, to look after that end of the Cameron case."
"Huh!" exclaimed the boy. "You didn't take the railroad iron up
with you when you came down, did you? Nor yet you didn't lock
up the side-door Pullmans.
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