“Somebody is hurt, I guess.  Maybe that man we heard has been knocked down.  It often happens in cities.”

“Let’s run,” Phil suggested, now trembling violently.

“Run where?” Rod enquired.

“To the hotel.”

“And leave that man to be killed!  Scouts don’t do that,” and Rod straightened himself up with a jerk.

“But what are we going to do?”

“Go after that policeman, see?  He can’t be far away.  Come!”

The next instant the boys were bounding along the street after the policeman they had met but a few minutes before.  Fortunately they ran across him sooner than they had expected, for hearing the sound of hurrying footsteps, the official blocked the way, caught the lads by the shoulders, and demanded what they were running for.  Rod pantingly explained, and soon the three were hastening back to where the struggle had taken place.

At first the policeman had been doubtful as to the truth of the story, but when he flashed his light upon the prostrate form of a man lying in the gutter, he gave vent to an exclamation of astonishment.  The man was unconscious, and he was bleeding from a wound in the head.  Rod never forgot the look of that face lying there so white beneath the light of the lantern.  It was the face of a man about thirty years of age, with a dark moustache, and a slight scar upon the right cheek.  The policeman felt the man’s pulse, and found that he was alive.  He then placed a whistle to his lips and gave several long shrill blasts.  He next enquired the names of the two boys, where they were from, and what they were doing out at that time of the night.  To these questions Rod answered in such a straightforward manner that the policeman was satisfied.

“You had better get on now,” he ordered, “But, remember, we’ll want you in the morning to give evidence.  Don’t leave the city until you get permission.”

Though both the boys would like to have stayed to see what would be done with the unconscious man, they did not dare to disobey the policeman, so they hurried off, and at last reached the hotel.  They found Mr. Dexter anxiously waiting their return, and to him they related what had happened on the street.

“This is what comes of your galavanting around at such hours of the night,” he growled.  “You should have been in your beds long ago.  And so we’ve got to wait, have we?  This is a pretty state of affairs.  I can’t afford to stay here all day to-morrow.  Get away to bed now.  You’ve done enough mischief for one night.”

Rod went to bed, but he found it hard to sleep.  His thoughts turned not only to the wounded man, but to the concert to be held the next day.  Suppose he could not get home in time to take his part, what would Whyn and Captain Josh think, and how could they get along without him?

Early the next morning a message came summoning Rod and Phil to appear at the court room at ten o’clock.  Mr. Dexter went with them, which was a great relief.  Everything was strange to the boys, and they were very nervous as they were examined and cross-questioned.  But they both told what they knew in such a manner as to give much satisfaction.  At last the Police Magistrate told them that they could go home, but must appear before him whenever they were needed.