elves at one of the tables. As they did this, a person
who had been following them stopped at the door to peer in after
them. The person was Dan Baxter.

"They are going to dine before retiring," he muttered to himself.
"The Old Nick take the luck! They have all the good times, while I
have only the bad!"

Dan Baxter had followed the boys from the hotel to the theater and
had also waited around for them to come out. He wanted to "square
up" with them, but had no definite plan of action, and was trusting
to luck for something to turn up in his favor.

He had drifted to the West for a double reason. The one was, as the
boys had surmised, because the East seemed to be getting too hot to
hold him. His second reason was that he hoped to get passage on some
vessel bound for Sydney, Australia. He had a distant relative in
Australia, and thought that if he could only see that relative
personally he might be able to get some money. He was nearly out of
funds, and so far the relative, although rich, had refused to send
any money by mail or express.

"They have everything they want, while I have nothing," he went on
savagely. "And they don't deserve it, either. Oh, how I wish I could
wring their necks for 'em!"

Suddenly an idea struck him and without waiting for the boys to come
out of the restaurant he hopped on board of a street car running in
the direction of the Oakland House. Entering the hotel office he
asked to look at the register.

"Room 324," he said to himself. "That is on the third floor, I suppose,
since they generally start a new hundred for every floor. Wonder if
I can get up without being noticed?"

He watched his chance, and slipping past the bell boys, made his way
up the stairs, which, on account of the elevators, were but little
used. In a few minutes he was in front of the door to Room 324. He
tried it cautiously, to find it locked.

"Now if only the keys will work," he muttered, breathing hard, and
taking a bunch of keys from his pocket he tried them, one after another.

He had tried four keys without success, when he saw a waiter approaching
with a trayful of good things for a late supper in a nearby apartment.
At once he moved away down the hallway and did not return until the
servant had disappeared from view.

He had five other keys and the third fitted the lock, although rather
crudely; so crudely in fact that once the lock bolt was turned the
key could not be withdrawn.

"That's bad," he