John Hadley and Jack Wilkinson left on Tuesday morning long before the girls were up. They decided first of all to go back to the farm house and ask about the path beside the creek, and then to go over it, every inch of the way, on foot. And then if they still found no traces, they meant to get a detective.

For the situation was now thoroughly alarming. The girls had probably been kidnapped, and hidden somewheres by the old man who was seeking the reward. Perhaps they were even suffering some sort of torture!

The boys reached the farm house about seven thirty. Jack stayed in the machine, driving it very slowly, while John ran on ahead. In a minute he joined his companion; unfortunately Mrs. Higgins still had no news of the girls or of the stranger.

“She says there’s a road—not far from the footpath,” said John, “so you drive on, and I’ll walk. I hardly think this is going to help us any, but we may as well follow it out as quickly as possible and then go to Besley again for a detective.”

182 They proceeded thus for about four miles, progressing very carefully, and watching for canoes, and girls and empty barns and houses where they might be hidden. They were quite near to the very house where the girls were imprisoned when they encountered a Boy Scout. He ran out from the path, and placed himself in front of the machine, all the while waving his hands frantically.

“Stop! Stop!” he cried; and just as Jack brought the car to a stand-still, John scampered over from the wood-path, to hear what the commotion was about.

“I see you’re a Scout!” said John, saluting, and extending his hand for a hand-shake. “What can we do to help you?”

“It’s a girl—in trouble!” he explained. “She’s held prisoner up in a farm-house beside the creek. In fact, there are two girls. I——”

Jack was out of the machine in a flash. Wildly, he grasped the boy’s arm.

“It’s my sister!” he cried. “Tell us, quick!”

“Well, I don’t know why she’s held there, but she sent me a semaphore message to get help. She must be a Girl Scout to know the code, I mean.”

“Did she have light hair and brown eyes?” questioned John, almost shouting his words in his excitement.

“Search me!” replied the other. “Her hair is183 light—she’s pretty, too. But I don’t know about the color of her eyes!”

“It must be Marj!” said Jack. “Oh, I know it is! Oh, don’t let’s waste a minute!”

“Come on in the machine!” cried John. “Can we drive right up to the door,——?”

“Bob Felton’s my name,” replied the other. “Yes, we can drive right up to the porch. But I wish we had a pistol! Maybe the people are crazy!”

Jack patted his pocket significantly. “We’ve each got a gun,” he said.

“By Jimmy, if I get my hands on that fellow, I’ll choke him till his eyes fall out,” raged John, furious with anger.

Jack drove his machine as fast as he dared over the uneven road for about half a mile; then, directed by Bob Felton, he turned down a narrow path which led to the creek.

“That’s the place!” cried Bob suddenly. “See it?”

“That hole? Why, it’s not fit for a dog!”

“Hadn’t we better stop the machine here under cover, and sneak up on them?” suggested Bob.

“Nix!” replied John. “We drive right up to the house; we’re going to claim them—not steal ’em back again. I guess they’ve already heard our engine, anyway.”

Boldly, Jack drove directly to the front of the house, or rather, until a rickety fence barred further progress, and suddenly applied the brakes. A dirty,184 mongrel hound came racing out from the back, barking furiously. But the boys never hesitated. Before the machine had come to a halt, John was out of it; and not waiting to pass through the gate, he vaulted the fence with a bound and strode across the intervening space of yard to the door, keeping his hand on the revolver in his side pocket. Nor were the other two boys far behind him. Unmindful of the mangy cur which noisily threatened an assault upon their legs from the rear, they were at John’s heels when he sprang up the steps of the porch.

The widow Brown, having heard them approach and thinking all the while that it was the old man who had returned, appeared suddenly in the doorway just as John had raised his clenched hand to pound upon the door.

John was somewhat taken aback upon being thus unexpectedly confronted by a woman when he had expected to see a man, and with his fist arrested in mid-air, he blurted out,

“Where—where—we want the two girls who are prisoners here! Where are they?”

The woman shrank back in consternation before the look of righteous wrath on the face of the young man who, with upraised hand, appeared about to strike her. She trembled violently, and wondered whether she should call to her brother, who was out in the stable and had evidently not heard the quiet motor of the big machine when it approached. But,185 knowing her guilt, her terror at the determined attitude of the three boys prevented her from uttering a sound, and before she could even stammer a reply to John’s question, Marjorie and Lily, having heard his stern voice demanding them, came bounding down the stairs.

“Why—why—sir—oh, do have mercy!” begged Mrs. Brown, sinking in a heap at the boys’ feet. But the girls, hardly noticing her, stepped over her, and rushed toward the boys.

“Thank Heaven!” cried Marjorie, flinging her arms around her brother’s neck, and laughing and crying at the same time. Frieda, in her turn, grasped the hand of the unknown scout, and squeezed it gratefully.

“Let’s get away at once!” begged Marjorie. “I can’t stand it here another minute!”

“Suppose you all wait a minnit!” called a voice behind them.

Turning quickly, they beheld the man of the place standing beside the machine, the sharp points of his pitchfork resting against a tire, as if he were about to damage it.

“Get away from that machine, you contemptible skunk!” shouted John, advancing towards him.

The man raised his pitchfork threateningly.

“Throw down that fork, or I’ll let daylight into you!” cried John, whipping out his revolver.

At the sight of the weapon, the man became instantly186 cowed; he tossed the fork hastily away from him.

“Now come over here and explain yourself,” ordered the boy.

“I ain’t done nuthin’,” whined the other, entering nevertheless through a break in the fence.

“Ain’t done nuthin’!” mimicked John. “You’ve kidnapped two innocent girls, a crime that’s punishable by a long term of imprisonment. Don’t you call that something? What’s the big idea, anyhow?”

The man cringed at these words, displaying even less courage than his sister had; but seeing that John was replacing his revolver in his pocket, he took heart again.

“No, I didn’t, neither!” he replied; and he proceeded to relate the whole story, all the while proclaiming that he was innocent.

“But who is this old man?” demanded Jack. “Surely you know him!”

“I never saw him before in my life!&............