on as swiftly as possible. They did not run lest they should be heard.
Their hearts beat fast, and they glanced nervously from side to side.
The ways of the city, especially at night, were strange and mysterious
to them, and all kinds of dangers seemed to be lurking around. Had
they been on a country road they would have felt perfectly at ease.
But here it was different.

They had almost gained a part of the street where an electric light
flooded the pavement, when they heard a cry behind them, and then a
thud as of some one falling. They stopped and looked back, but all was
shrouded in darkness. On the opposite side of the street they could
hear sounds of struggling, while an occasional gasping cry fell upon
their ears.

"There's something wrong," Rod whispered to his companion.

"W-what d'ye s'pose it is?" was the frightened reply.

"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.