ctor's offices, a
junk-shop, a second hand dealer's storehouse and a big stable in which
the contractor's work-horses were kept.

"These old rookeries will go by when Gridley real estate gets to be just
a little more valuable," grunted Dave, as he picked his way gingerly in
the darksome spot.

"It's really a disgrace to the town, this place," replied Dick. "Hullo!
Who's moving there? O-o-oh--say!"

They were just at the head of the narrow alley-way leading down to the
stable. Up this alley-way a man had been picking his prowling way in the
dark. At the hail from Dick Prescott the man turned, as though to glide
back into the shadow.

But now, suddenly, the fellow wheeled like a flash and bounded into the
path of the two Grammar School boys.

"I reckon this time will be as good as any other!" announced Mr. Fits,
with an ugly laugh that showed his fang like teeth.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

"Jupiter! But we've got you!" flared Dave Darrin.

"Have you?" retorted Mr. Fits sarcastically. "Hold me tight, then. But
this is a lucky meeting for me. I can settle all the old scores with you
two. Yell, if you think it will bring any help to you."

"We know better," replied Dick coolly, though he was tingling inside.
"We've got to handle you ourselves."

"Get busy at handling me, then," leered Mr. Fits. "Prescott, I'm going
to begin by handling you in a way that'll make Darrin run."

"Don't you believe it!" retorted Dave angrily. "I may be killed, but I
promise you that I won't run except to chase you, you ugly brute!"

"We'll see!" chuckled the wretch.

With that he reached out for Dick, who was standing his ground. Just
then a lithe figure shot in between the boys and their promised
assailant.

"Stand back, you hound!" ordered the newcomer angrily. "This is a matter
for men. You and I will attend to each other!"

"Old Dut!" breathed Dick Prescott in the intensity of his astonishment.

"Yes, it's I," announced the principal of the Central Grammar coolly.
"This is more in my line."

Mr. Fits had been pushed back from the spot by the energetic fist of Mr.
E. Dutton Jones. But now the brute came back, cautiously, crouching and
leering.

"Who are you, anyway!" demanded Mr. Fits.

"Oh, I'm one of the town's schoolmasters," replied Old Dut dryly. "As
for you, I imagine you're that doubtful celebrity, Mr. Fits--otherwise a
thief."

"Get out of this!" warned the rascal darkly. "This is no place for
schoo