Before ten minutes had sped the captain with a dozen men stole with their guide into the hallway of a dark and virtuous-looking building in which many businesses were conducted by day.

“Third floor, rear,” said the Kid, softly.  “I’ll lead the way.”

Two axemen faced the door that he pointed out to them.

“It seems all quiet,” said the captain, doubtfully.  “Are you sure your tip is straight?”

“Cut away!” said the Kid.  “It’s on me if it ain’t.”

The axes crashed through the as yet unprotected door.  A blaze of light from within poured through the smashed panels.  The door fell, and the raiders sprang into the room with their guns handy.

The big room was furnished with the gaudy magnificence dear to Denver Dick’s western ideas.  Various well-patronized games were in progress.  About fifty men who were in the room rushed upon the police in a grand break for personal liberty.  The plain-clothes men had to do a little club-swinging.  More than half the patrons escaped.

Denver Dick had graced his game with his own presence that night.  He led the rush that was intended to sweep away the smaller body of raiders, But when he saw the Kid his manner became personal.  Being in the heavyweight class he cast himself joyfully upon his slighter enemy, and they rolled down a flight of stairs in each other’s arms.  On the landing they separated and arose, and then the Kid was able to use some of his professional tactics, which had been useless to him while in the excited clutch of a 200-pound sporting gentleman who was about to lose $20,000 worth of paraphernalia.

After vanquishing his adversary the Kid hurried upstairs and through the gambling-room into a smaller apartment connecting by an arched doorway.

Here was a long table set with choicest chinaware and silver, and lavishly furnished with food of that expensive and spectacular sort of which the devotees of sport are supposed to be fond.  Here again was to be perceived the liberal and florid taste of the gentleman with the urban cognomenal prefix.

A No. 10 patent leather shoe protruded a few of its inches outside the tablecloth along the floor.  The Kid seized this and plucked forth a black man in a white tie and the garb of a servitor.

“Get up!” commanded the Kid.  “Are you in charge of this free lunch?”

“Yes, sah, I was.  Has they done pinched us ag’in, boss?”

“Looks that way.  Listen to me.  Are there any peaches in this layout?  If there ain’t I’ll have to throw up the sponge.”

“There was three dozen, sah, when the game opened this evenin’; but I reckon the gentlemen done eat ’em all up.  If you’d like to eat a fust-rate orange, sah, I kin find you some.”

“Get busy,” ordered the Kid, sternly, “and move whatever peach crop you’ve got quick or there’ll be trouble.  If anybody oranges me again to-night, I’ll knock his face off.”