midnight arrived and they heard in the distance to the north of them the rumbling of a train, Slippery had so completely won the confidence of Joe, that the latter consented to accompany the yegg to Chicago without waiting for the arrival of the others, whereupon Slippery tore a page out of his memorandum and after writing on it a brief note, telling Kansas Shorty that he and Joe had rambled into Chicago, and to meet them there, he silenced any rising suspicions Joe might have had that everything was not all right by pinning this note to the trunk of the tree.

When the train, which proved to be a long string of empty, open box cars, pulled southward, after having filled its engine’s tender at the water tank, Slippery and Joe had safely stowed themselves away in one of the “empties” and were soon rolling on towards Chicago, and had become a most contented pair of hobo-partners.

Early on the third morning they landed at Chicago, and Joe found that Slippery’s tales as to the magnitude of this city had not been exaggerated, for they rode hours and miles upon horseless “cable” cars before Slippery beckoned to Joe to follow him, as they had arrived at their destination, the center of the city’s business district.

After eating their breakfast in a restaurant, they sauntered through the streets to see the sights.  While they walked aimlessly about the city, Slippery acted at times so strangely that he called the attention of Joe to him, who did not suspect the reason of his singular demeanor, nor that he was walking with a man who in police circles had earned a well merited reputation of being one of the most desperate criminals in the land.  Whenever Slippery would spot a policeman ahead of him he would turn into an alley or by-way to avoid passing the guardian of the law.  At other times, just after they had passed some well dressed and often really benign looking citizen, Slippery would roughly nudge him and whisper, “that was one of those ’fly mugs’—­a detective”, and then it would be some moments before he reverted to his former cheerfulness, proving to Joe how much he feared or despised those who uphold the law.

The ringing of the church bells had just announced the noon hour, when Slippery was stopped in the street by a neatly attired gentleman, who, after they had most cordially shaken hands, entered into a whispered conversation, which Joe overheard.

“Hello, Slippery, old boy, when did you find your way back to Chicago?” were the first words of the stranger’s greeting, who acted as if he were greatly pleased with the return of Joe’s pal to the “Windy City.”  “I too am glad to be once more where one’s eyes do not tire looking into nothingness, bounded only by the horizon and the blue sky,” answered Slippery, and then in a whisper, he added:  “Say, Boston Frank, give me a square tip where Bunko Bill’s gang is, so I can find a temporary hangout until I get straight as to the lay of the land.”