CHAPTER XXXII.
DITSON IS TRAPPED.
"It don't make a dit of bifference, Frank!" spluttered Harry Rattleton.
"I don't care if you have got his card! That thug lied like blazes! Putnam may be selfish--he may have other faults, but he never hired anybody to break your arm." "I cannot think he would do such a thing myself," said Frank; "but this Plug Kirby, as he is called, seemed honest and in earnest.

He stands ready to identify the fellow at any time." "Then why not settle it by bringing him before Putnam this very afternoon?
That's the way to mix the fatter--I mean fix the matter." "It is a good idea, Harry, and we will have to carry it out.

I'll need your assistance." "You shall have it, old man." So Frank and Harry arranged to bring Putnam and his accuser together that afternoon, it being the day after the assault on Merriwell.

Frank was to look out for Kirby while Harry brought Putnam along to the saloon over which Buster Kelley had rooms.
Frank and Kirby were there in advance, and they sat down in a corner, where they were not likely to be observed by anybody who entered.
Kirby's face was cut and scarred where he had felt Frank's hard fists, and the tough looked on the cool lad with genuine respect and admiration.
"I wants yer ter understan' dat I'd never gone inter dat game if I hadn't been hard up an' in a bad way," he said, trying to apologize for himself.

"T'ings have been runnin' agin' me, an' I've been on de rocks fer a long time, an' I didn't know how I was ter make a haul any easier dan by breakin' a kid's arm.