happened. He felt around for a moment and his
fingers touched the body of a man huddled against a wall.

"It must be Ken--and he's hurt," he muttered, and crept toward his
companion. Swanson worked over him, shaking and speaking to him and
presently Kennedy stirred and sat up against the wall.

"Where are we? What happened?" he inquired in a bewildered manner.

"Search me," replied Swanson mournfully. "I was just getting ready to
swing the haymaker on that big fellow when the house fell. I think
someone beaned me from behind with a brick and then kicked us around.
Ouch--my ribs feel stoved in."

"I'm sore all over," moaned Kennedy. "That fellow didn't do it all by
himself, did he?"

"I have a dim recollection of hearing someone tell him to fix us
right," replied Swanson. "I may have dreamed it."

"Let's get out of here," urged Swanson suddenly. "If some watchman
finds us here we'll be pinched, and it will make a nice story for the
reporters."

"Where do you think we are?" asked Kennedy, striving to get to his feet
and groaning with every move.

"In the alley back of the joint we were in," replied Swanson. "They
must have dragged us to the back door and dumped us."

He had managed to get upon his feet, assisted Kennedy to arise, and
slowly and with many groans they went toward the mouth of the alley.

"Let's go around to the front door and clean out that place," urged
Swanson, growing angry.

Both men were commencing to recover from the effects of the cruel
treatment they had endured, and, as their injured muscles loosened
their anger arose. They made their way painfully around the block and
to the entrance of the saloon. It was locked and the place was in
total darkness. Swanson shook the barred doors without result, then
stood gazing blankly against the glass.

"Say, Ken, we must have been knocked out for quite a while," he
remarked thoughtfully. "No one is here. They probably closed up as
soon as they threw us out--and we haven't a bit of proof against
anyone."

"Wonder what time it is?" groaned Kennedy. "We've got to get to bed if
we want to play."

"Holy Mackerel," exclaimed Swanson, using his favorite form of
swearing. "I forgot! That's it! Ken, after we were knocked out they
beat us to keep us from playing. Come on. We've got to forget about
fighting and get ready to play. I'll get even with someone for this."

Swanson was thinking rapidly as they limped slowly along the dar