"'Stay where you are. Friends are working in your behalf. In the meantime guard yourselves vigilantly.'A Friend.'"
"'Stay where you are. Friends are working in your behalf. In the meantime guard yourselves vigilantly.
'A Friend.'"
The message that Elfreda had read out loud to her companion served to deepen the mysteries that surrounded them, yet, as they pondered and discussed it, the message seemed to convey to them the hope that at least one of the mysteries might soon be solved.
"Hey! What hit me?" demanded Hippy Wingate, opening his eyes.
"Keep shet!" commanded a surly voice near at hand.
Hippy tried to raise his arms, but could not. They were roped to his sides, as he discovered now that he was regaining full consciousness. A dim light filtering through an opening that he could not see, for it was behind him, showed Lieutenant Wingate that he was lying in one of the shallow caves that may be found almost anywhere in the Kentucky mountains.
"How did I—I get here?" he ventured to ask.
The other occupant of the cave stepped up and gave the captive a vicious prod with his boot.
"Ouch! Say, you! Don't be so infernally rough about it. Kicking is a dangerous habit to get into. One of these days you will forget yourself and kick a Kentucky mule. Thengood night!"
"Didn't Ah tell ye-all to keep still? Want another clip ovah the haid?"
"Thank you, no," replied Hippy. "If you don't mind, before I relapse into gloomy silence, you might tell me what the big idea is. Who or what hit me, and why am I here hog-tied like a captured hoss thief?"
"Mebby ye-all be that. Kain't answer no questions, an' if ye don't keep still Ah'll shoot ye. Ah reckon ye-all will keep still that-away."
"Ah reckon maybe you're right," agreed Hippy, and was silent.
Lieutenant Wingate was kept in the cave all that day. Now and then his guard would go out for a short time, and, returning, would stand peering down at the prisoner, but no further conversation passed between them.
Hippy tried to recall what had happened to him. He remembered riding along the trail; remembered the good-natured teasing of the Overland girls, then all at once consciousness was blotted out. He had a faint recollection of being jolted, which probably was when he was being carried away on a horse, but that was theextent of his recollections. He did know that his head hurt him terribly and that it felt twice its natural size. His throat was parched from thirst, but Lieutenant Wingate declared to himself that he would die rather than ask a favor of the ruffian there who was guarding him.
Shortly after dark Hippy heard voices outside the cave; then two men came in, jerked him to his feet and, dragging him out, threw him over the back of a pony just ahead of the saddle, as if he were a bag of meal. When the rider mounted, Hippy was placed right side up on the saddle, his companion sitting behind him on the horse's back.
A rough, miserable ride of something more than an hour followed; then they halted. Hippy, now being blindfolded, could make out nothing of his surroundings, but he realized that there were trees all about him, and he could hear the snapping of a campfire, which reminded him of food and that he was nearly famished.
"If they fry bacon near enough for me to smell, I'll break my bonds and run—for the bacon," he added to himself.
Lieutenant Wingate was roughly yanked from the horse. He landed heavily on the ground in a heap, where he was left to untangle himself as best he could. By violent winking and twistinghis head from side to side he was able, by tilting his head well back, to displace the handkerchief with which he had been blindfolded sufficiently to enable him to look about.
Several men were holding a discussion by the campfire, and that their conversation had to do with him, Hippy Wingate knew from the frequent gestures in his direction, though he was too far away to distinguish what they were saying.
The men finally came over to him and demanded to know who and what he was.
Hippy told them briefly. One of the men laughed.
"Ye mean ye'r a hoss thief," he jeered.
"I wish I were. I'd steal a horse and get away from here."
"Know anybody in these parts, anybody who'll give ye a character?" questioned another.
"No. I've got a character of my own. I don't need any one to give me a character," retorted Hippy.
"Who is the feller that come inter these mountains with ye, and then quit ye in such a hurry?" demanded another.
"His name is Tom Gray. He is the husband of Grace Harlowe Gray, who leads our party of Riders. He has gone over to the Cumberlands on business."
"Whut business?"
"He is to make a survey for the government."
Lieutenant Wingate had let slip something that he should not have done. He saw instantly from the exclamations that the mountaineers uttered under their breaths, that he had "said something," as he expressed it to himself.
"So that's it, hey! Be ye-all workin' fer the gov'ment, too?" demanded a voice.
"I am not, nor have I been since I fought in France. Is there anything else that you ruffians wish to have me tell you?" demanded Hippy belligerently.
"Where be the other feller headed for fust?"
"I don't know where he is headed for now," answered the captive, becoming wary.
"Reckon we'd better look that gov'ment feller up right smart," said one of the captors in a low tone. "We'll bag the bunch of 'em. Shore ye ain't got nothin' else t' tell us honest folk up here?" demanded the first speaker.
"No."
"Reckon ye better think it over, young feller. We'll give ye till ter-morrer t' make a clean sweep an' tell us the whole business. If ye don't we'll jest blow yer fool haid off an' chuck ye in a hole in the mountain an' there won't be nothin' more heard of ye," threatened another.
"The Germans tried to do that same thing, but they didn't succeed," dared Lieutenant Wingate. "Who do you think I am, anyway? What do you think I am? Come, now, suppose you make a clean sweep and tell me what all this rotten business is about."
"Ah reckons ye don't have t' be told nothin'," was the reply that Hippy got. "We're goin' t' take ye away from here an' put a guard over ye, so if ye wants t' live till ter-morrer, keep quiet."
"Wait a moment!" called Hippy, as the captors turned away for further conference. "Don't I get anything to eat out of all this?"
There was no reply to his question, and Hippy went without his supper, which fact really gave him more concern than the knowledge that he was a prisoner in the hands of desperate men, who, if their word could be believed, proposed to do desperate things to him.
All but two of the mountaineers soon left the scene, and these two took turns in sleeping and guarding their prisoner. Along towards morning Hippy fell into an uneasy sleep, but his sleep was brief. He was roughly yanked to his feet, and, at the point of a rifle, driven deeper into the forest. His guards did not halt until daybreak. They then untied the prisoner's arms, bound his feet, and placing him in a sitting position, back against a tree, passed a rope around his waist and tied him to the tree.
"You forgot something," reminded Hippy as they started to walk away.
"Huh?" demanded one of the mountaineers.
"You forgot to tie the tree down. It might run away, you know."
A grunt was the only reply he got. The men then built a small fire and began preparing their breakfast. Bacon and coffee was their meal, and Hippy Wingate, now without his blindfold, was forced to sit there and watch them eat. It was the most unhappy hour that he remembered ever to have experienced.
After finishing their own breakfast they favored him with a cup of water, and, lighting their pipes, sat down to talk, much of which the listening ears of their captive overheard.
As nearly as Hippy could make it out a mountain feud was in the making, and the twenty-third of the month was the time set for the opening. He heard the names "Bat Spurgeon" and "Jed Thompson" mentioned, but they conveyed nothing to him beyond the mere names. The voices of his captors and his own weariness finally lulled Lieutenant Wingate to sleep, and he slept for hours. He was awakened late in the day by being roughly shaken and a cup of water thrust into his hands.
"I thank you for this bounteous repast," said Hippy mockingly. "Is this the water cure you are giving me?"
"Oh, shut up!" growled the mountaineer, and went away leaving Hippy gazing after him, a sardonic grin on the Overland Rider's face.
Hippy was aching all over his body as darkness settled over the forest, marking the second night of his captivity. With it came the cook fire and again the agonizing odors of coffee and bacon. With it, too, came something else—a low, guarded voice behind him and, seemingly, only a few inches from his ear.
"Don't make a sound, Lieutenant."
"Who are you?" demanded Hippy, without in the least changing his position or showing excitement.
"You would not know if I told you. Listen to me. When those two fellows sit down to supper, the light of the fire will be in their eyes, and, unless they get up and stare, they will not be able to see you in this shadow. If everything is safe I will cut you loose. Are your feet bound?"
"Yes. Who are you?"
"You wouldn't know if I told you, I said. Keep quiet and speak only in answer to my questions."
"All right. Got anything loose about yourperson—I mean food, man-sized food, not canary-bird rations such as those bandits have been doling out to me?"
"You can't have anything now. After we have gotten away from here I will try to dig up a snack for you. Silence!"
For the next several minutes neither the prisoner nor his mysterious friend uttered a word. Supper was ready for the mountaineers, but, before sitting down to it, one of them walked over to the prisoner and stood peering down at him. Hippy's heart almost stopped beating, so intent was he on listening for the breathing of the man behind him and from his fear that his mysterious friend might be discovered.
No such emergency arose, nor did he hear the breathing he was listening for.
After satisfying himself that the captive was safe, the mountaineer returned to the fire and sat down to his supper.
Hippy felt a slight tug on the rope that bound him, then its pressure about his waist was released.
"Steady, now," warned that even voice behind him. "Crawl on all fours."
The rescuer placed a hand on Hippy's shoulder and guided him slowly, cautiously, every movement forward threatening to draw a groan from the released captive.
"Now get up! Give me your hand," whispered, the stranger. "Don't speak."
For some little time they crept on in silence, the stranger twisting and turning, finally taking to the middle of a mountain stream and following it up for some distance when he halted.
"Tell me what the situation is back there. What did they propose to do to you?" demanded the man.
"I expect the gang is on its way there now to shoot me up, provided I do not give them the information they seek," answered Hippy.
"What information?"
Lieutenant Wingate repeated the conversation of the previous night, leaving out no details, however trivial they might seem to him.
"I thought so. Come up here and sit down. I shall have to leave you, perhaps for an hour or more. When I return I will give one short whistle. If all is well you will reply with two short whistles."
"You are going back there to spy on that outfit that we just left?" questioned Hippy.
"Yes. I want to see who the others are, and what they have up their sleeves. Here's a revolver for you. I suppose they took yours. Don't use it unless you have to."
"Wait a moment!" called Hippy, as his mysterious friend started away. "Haven't youforgotten something? That 'snack' you promised to dig for."
"Oh, yes. Here's some dog biscuit for you, and—"
"Dog biscuit?" exclaimed Hippy.
"Hardtack. You ought to know what that is," chuckled the stranger.
Hippy groaned. It revived painful memories of France in wartime, but he accepted the hardtack and began biting it off in large chunks. Hippy did not concern himself about how long the mysterious friend remained away so long as the biscuit held out, unpalatable as it was.
"I shall be listening for shells to burst first thing I know. Army food! How did I ever eat it for nearly two years and live?"
It was full two hours later when the welcome whistle signal sounded somewhere down stream, which Lieutenant Wingate answered as directed.
"Come! We will head for your camp now," announced the man a few moments later, as he stepped up before Hippy.
"Did you learn anything on your little excursion?" questioned Hippy thickly, for his mouth was well filled with hardtack.
"Yes, Lieutenant. I learned a great deal. I was there when the crowd came in to put you on the rack. The two fellows who let you get awayhad a hard time of it, and it looked for a time as if there was going to be shooting. Cooler heads, however, headed it off. When you get back to your party I should advise you to pull up stakes and get out. Those fellows will be after you and you'll have to look alive or you won't be alive long."
"I know I am thick, old man, but tell me why they are so eager to blow my light out," begged Hippy.
"Don't you know, Lieutenant?"
"If I did I shouldn't be asking you. Begging your pardon for my bluntness."
"One reason, but not the principal one, is that you bounced one of the gang from your camp."
"Go on. What's the big idea?"
"The big idea, as you call it, is that there is a price on your head up here! Now do you understand, Lieutenant?"
Hippy Wingate uttered a low, long-drawn whistle of amazement.
"What do you suppose it can mean, and who threw it into our camp?" wondered Elfreda Briggs, folding up the newspaper that contained the message to them.
"It must mean that a friend is interested in our welfare," replied Grace. "Whoever and whatever he may be, his advice is good, and here we stay until we find Hippy. I am going out right after breakfast and make an effort to pick up the trail. Surely the outlaws, or whatever they are, will not be waiting all that time for us to follow them. I will make a quiet scout. I do not look to be interfered with, for they surely will have gone away by now."
"Shall I call the girls and tell them? The knowledge that a helping hand has been held out to us surely will comfort Nora," said Elfreda.
"Yes. I will rout out Washington and have him start the fire. It has been a trying night and I am glad it is at an end," replied Grace.
"I knew it," cried Emma Dean when she learned what had taken place. "I didn't con-centrate for nothing."
"You what?" frowned Elfreda.
"I have been con-centrating all night long—con-centrating on Hippy to call him back to us."
"Oh, you darlin'," cried Nora, throwing her arms about Emma.
"I should advise you to continue to 'con-centrate,'" suggested Anne. "If you were to stop now you might break the mental string; then we should lose Hippy for good."
"You just wait. You'll see whether or not he comes back," retorted Emma indignantly.
Nora's face was flushed that morning and her heart was filled with a new hope—the hope that Hippy might be with them before the close of that day.
After breakfast, as planned, Grace took up her rifle and went away, leaving Elfreda and the others to guard the camp and, incidentally, to keep Washington busy and out of mischief. He was, too, forbidden to play his harmonica lest the noise attract attention to the camp of the Overland Riders.
Proceeding cautiously, Grace reached the stream, and followed it until she found where the kidnappers of Hippy had left it. After waiting and watching for a full hour, Gracestepped out boldly. For six hours the Overland girl employed all her knowledge of the open in an effort to pick up the trail of the mountaineers, but the trail appeared to end abruptly at the bank of the creek. Not even the hoofprints of horses could be found on the softer ground a short distance back from the stream.
There are tricks in masking one's trail that the Kentucky mountaineers had learned from generations of feuds and attacks by revenue agents, which Grace Harlowe knew nothing of.
At noon she gave up the attempt to find the trail over which Hippy Wingate had been taken, and started back towards the camp.
"What luck?" called Nora, as she appeared at the edge of the clearing where the camp was pitched.
"None. As a trailer, I am a miserable failure, a rank amateur."
"If you were to spend as much time con-centrating as you do tearing about over the landscape, you would be more successful," declared Emma wisely, at which there was a laugh at Grace's expense.
"I surely could not be more unsuccessful than I have been," replied Grace smilingly.
The afternoon was passed in discussing their situation. While the girls were eager to be outtrying to find Hippy, they believed that they were doing the wise thing in following the advice of their unknown friend, whose message had been tossed into their camp, so they remained in camp and waited.
When night came and still no Hippy, the depression of the Overlanders increased and there was little conversation, each one appearing to be listening, Emma, with a faraway look in her eyes, now and then relapsing into deep thought. Emma was "con-centrating."
The same arrangement for guarding the camp, as had been carried out the previous night, was again followed. This time, Grace took one side of the camp and Miss Briggs the other. Both hid in deep shadows, each with a rifle at her side and a revolver in its holster. Thus prepared they settled themselves for the night, all the other members of the party being in their tents and, supposedly, asleep.
It was late when Grace and Elfreda were aroused by Washington talking, muttering in his sleep, then the nerves of the two girls leaped to attention as, out of the bushes on Miss Briggs' side of the camp, a twig snapped. It was accompanied by a sound that indicated the presence of a human being.
"Who goes?" demanded Elfreda sharply.
Bang!
Without giving the maker of the noise out there time to answer, she fired a shot from her revolver into the trees in that direction, but high enough to be certain that one underneath them would not be hit.
Miss Briggs' shot brought instant results.
"Hey there! Cut the gun!" howled Hippy Wingate.
"It's Hippy!" breathed Grace, springing to her feet. "Don't shoot, Elfreda!"
The two girls sprang up and waited. They were still cautious, but their companions, awakened by the shot, were not. Nora, Anne and Emma rushed out, demanding excitedly to know what the trouble was.
At this juncture Hippy walked into the clearing.
"Meet me with a pail of food! I'm starving!" he wailed.
For the next few minutes there was excitement in the camp, Nora clinging to Hippy's neck laughing and crying, Emma standing a little aloof from them with a superior smile on her face, Anne, urging the wide-eyed Washington to start the fire and prepare coffee, and Grace seeking to quiet Nora so that they might hear Hippy's story.
When the campfire blazed up and they saw his condition, Nora wept again. Hippy washatless—his hat was out in the bushes where Grace, after finding it, had secreted it—his clothes were torn, he was hollow-eyed, and his head wore a lump that stood out prominently.
"Never mind the trimmings. Give me food," he begged. Then between mouthfuls he told the story of his capture so far as he knew it, told it to the moment of his reaching the Overland camp. Hippy said he intended, if possible, to creep in quietly without awakening any one and give the girls a big surprise in the morning, when Elfreda threw a wrench into the machinery, "and tried to wing me," he added amid laughter.
"I could not afford to wait," answered Miss Briggs.
"You sure are some quick on the trigger," declared Hippy. "The fellow who was with me ducked, and I heard him chuckling and laughing as he sneaked away."
"Yes, but, had it not been for me, you might not have been here, Lieutenant Wingate," interjected Emma Dean.
"Eh? How's that, Emma?"
"Why, I—I con-centrated on you and brought you back," answered Emma solemnly.
"What a pity," murmured Hippy sadly. "And she so young."
"Who was the man who rescued you?" questioned Grace, after the laugh at Emma's expense had subsided.
"I don't know. I never saw him before. He is a slick article, whoever he may be."
"Are you certain that it was not our Mystery Man?" asked Anne.
"I am. Say! We must get out of here right smart, for there is going to be trouble," urged Hippy.
"I should say that we already have had our share of it," complained Elfreda.
"Yes, but this is different, child. The mountaineers are after us—after me especially," he added, throwing out his chest a little.
"After you—after you, Hippy, my darlin'?" cried Nora. "Why should they be after you?"
"I don't know any more about it than you do. Perhaps the little mix-ups we had with those two fellows may have something to do with it."
"It must be something more serious than revenge for your having bounced one and driven the other one away," offered Grace. "Will you please tell me why we should move in such a hurry?"
"Because the fellow who got me out of my scrape said we must. He says we have got to make Thompson's farm as quickly as possible and stay there until the storm blows over," insisted Lieutenant Wingate. "Of course, Idon't give a rap for myself, but I have a great moral responsibility."
"A what?" interjected Emma.
"Moral responsibility. I am responsible for the safety of you girls and my powerful body shall stand between you and all harm."
"Ahem—m—m," piped Emma Dean.
"To what storm did he refer?" asked Grace. She was regarding Hippy narrowly, not yet sure that he was not joking, though she did not believe he was.
"I don't know, Brown Eyes. That depends upon which way the wind blows. It feels like snow to me. He did not say what kind of storm, but he strongly advised what I have told you," answered the lieutenant.
"It doesn't sound reasonable to me. I do not see how we should be any safer on the farm you speak of, than we shall be by following the trail to Hall's Corners, all the time attending strictly to our own business," observed Elfreda.
"Nor do I," agreed Grace.
"I will tell you why, Elfreda," answered Hippy. "We shall be safer there, where, for some reason, my informant doesn't seem to think those ruffians will bother us. Whereas, if we remain out and continue on our way to our destination, I shall probably be shot. Those mountaineers are bound to get me."
"What?" gasped Nora Wingate. "Hippy, my darlin', do you mean it?"
"Yes I do. There is a price on my head up here! That's the whole story."
"A price! Huh! If there is, I'll wager that it is a cut-rate price. Good-night! I am going back to bed." Emma Dean turned her back on them and flounced off to her tent.
"I don't believe it. Your rescuer was drawing the long bow," spoke up Anne Nesbit.
"Yes, I can't imagine Hippy with a price on his head," nodded Miss Briggs.
"When I'm dead you folks will be sorry that you didn't take me seriously," rebuked Lieutenant Wingate. "Do we do as my friend suggested, and hike for the Thompson farm, or must I be sacrificed on the altar of unbelief?"
"Grace must answer that question. She is our captain," answered Elfreda.
Grace Harlowe regarded Hippy with searching eyes.
"You are not fooling us, Hippy?" she demanded.
"Could I be so base as to deceive my dearest friends?" answered Lieutenant Wingate in an aggrieved tone. "How can you doubt me?"
"Girls, if there be no objection, we will start at daybreak. Washington, do you know where the Thompson farm is?" questioned Grace.
"Ah reckon Ah does," drawled Washington.
"How far is it from here?"
"'Bout two skips an' er jump, Ah reckons."
"He thinks we are a flock of fleas," grumbled Hippy under his breath.
"I will get the map. We shall learn nothing from Washington," said Grace, rising. "Washington, pack up everything we shall not need to-night. We wish to make an early start in the morning."
"Yes'm."
Fetching the map, Grace and Elfreda pored over it and finally located the farm in question. The map was a sectional map issued by the government and gave every trail and landmark in the territory that it covered.
"I should say Thompson's farm is about twenty miles from here. It appears to be quite a bit out of our way, but that doesn't matter in the circumstances. Yes, I think we can make it. All right, Hippy."
"What about to-night?" asked Miss Briggs.
"The same arrangement as last night," replied Grace in a low tone. "We will take turns. Take your blanket out. He needs a rest to-night," nodding towards Hippy Wingate.
Neither Grace nor Elfreda felt like sitting up another night. Hippy insisted that he must take his watch on guard, but they declined his offer, telling him that they could not trust him to keep awake in view of what he had been through and the sleep he had lost. So the two girls took up their vigil again, Grace lying down near her companion, Elfreda taking the first watch of the night.
It was not long after the camp had settled down to sleep that Elfreda put a quick pressure on the arm of her companion. Grace was awake instantly.
"What is it?" she whispered, instinctively sensing that the pressure on her arm was a warning pressure.
"I thought I heard something yonder by Washington's tent," whispered Miss Briggs.
"Yes, something is moving about there," agreed Grace, after a few minutes of attentive listening. "It may be Washington himself. Don't shoot. Remember, too, that the ponies are in that direction, so if we have to fire we must fire high."
"I had thought of that. I—"
Miss Briggs was interrupted by the most unearthly yell that any member of the Overland party had ever heard. The yell was uttered by Washington Washington.
"Leggo me! Leggo! He kotched me! He kotched me! Wo—o—o—o—o—ow!"
The howls of the colored boy ended in a gurgle.
"Shoot!" commanded Grace. "Shoot high! Empty your rifle!"
Both girls let go a rattling fire with their rifles, and the howls and the shots brought the others of their party tumbling and shouting from their tents.
"Down! Quiet!" commanded Grace. "Let no one shoot without orders, unless in an emergency. I am going out there."
"Better not," advised Miss Briggs.
"I must. You know I must. If they have harmed that boy—Well, you know the answer. Keep them quiet."
With only her revolver, Grace crept around the outer edge of the camp, making every movement with extreme care, pausing now and then to listen. It was her opinion that the disturbers had left, but she was too old a campaigner to take that for granted, and never for an instant relaxed her caution.
The Overland girl reached the far end of the camp without incident. She crept to the tent where the colored boy slept and found it empty. There was no trace, that she was able to discover in the dark, to indicate what had happened to him. Not satisfied with what she had already accomplished, Grace crept further out along the trail, revolver in hand, eyes and ears keenly on the alert.
Finally she turned campwards.
"They have got the boy," she announced, coming up from the rear of the tents, and approaching her companions from behind. All were sitting on the ground, silent, expectant, waiting, either for Grace's return or a burst of revolver fire. Their nerves jumped from the reaction when Grace spoke to them.
"Oh, that is too bad," murmured Anne.
"Did you discover anything else?" asked Elfreda.
"No. I could not see anything in the dark. The worst of it is that we shall not be able to do a thing until morning. That settles our getting started in the morning, for I for one shall not leave here until we have found Washington. I don't know why they should have taken the boy. He surely can be of no use to them."
"He can give them information, can't he?" asked Hippy.
"None that will be of use to them."
"It is my opinion," spoke up Elfreda, "that they were not after the boy at all, but that his howls made it necessary for them to take him to protect themselves. Of course they will drag such information as he has, from him."
"We must all stand watch for the rest of the night," announced Hippy. He then promptly distributed his force, taking the lead in the arrangements, which Grace was now glad to have him do. Then again, she understood full well that Lieutenant Wingate himself was eager to even up old scores with the men who had handled him so roughly.
Each girl, armed with a rifle, took the position assigned to her, and there was no more conversation for the next two hours, no sound other than that from the insect life and the occasional whinney of a pony. The minds of the Overlanders, however, were active. They were pondering over these persistent attacks on them, and Grace, for one, became finally convinced that Lieutenant Wingate was not overstating when he declared that there was a price on his head. She was inclined to think, too, that the same condition applied to all members of the Overland party.
As for Washington, none of them believed that the mountaineers could have any possiblemotive for harming him, unless, perhaps, it were necessary to do so for their own protection. That, the girls realized, was a grave possibility, especially were the men to see that he recognized any of them.
There was worry on the minds of the Overlanders, and the hours of their vigil seemed to drag out interminably. It was not until morning, however, that anything occurred to disturb them or even rouse them from their endless listening and peering into the darkness with straining eyes and bated breaths. Therefore, the interruption that followed the long, tense silence came as a shock, an interruption that startled each member of the party into a new and throbbing alertness.
The first indication that something was approaching the opposite side of the camp was made known by the sudden restlessness of the ponies, which sprang up and gave every indication of fright.
The action of the ponies was followed by a floundering and crashing out there in the bushes as if a large animal were tearing its way through them.
"Hold your fire!" directed Lieutenant Wingate in a low voice. "It may be that one of the ponies has broken loose."
No one answered, but every rifle was held at ready.
"There it comes! It's a man," cried Nora, as a figure burst into view from the bushes.
"Doan shoot! Doan shoot! It am Wash," howled Washington Washington, then tripping on a vine, he fell flat on his face. "It kotched me! It kotched me!" he bellowed, springing up ready to make another dash.
By this time Hippy had him by the collar.
"Oh, fiddlesticks! All this scare for a black nightmare," groaned Emma.
"Stop that racket!" commanded Hippy. "Is any one chasing you?"
"Ah—Ah doan know. Ah—Ah reckons de debbil hisself am chasing me. Ah—"
"Pull yourself together and tell us what happened to you," directed Grace as Lieutenant Wingate led the trembling lad up to them.
"He got me, he did."
"Who got you?" interjected Miss Briggs.
"Ah doan know. He kotched me an' Ah yelled—"
"He yelled? How unusual," muttered Emma.
"Den—den he put er hand ovah ma mouth an' gib me er clip on de haid," continued Washington excitedly. "Ah doan knows nothin' moah till Ah wakes up. Dey was talkin' 'bout dat time."
"Who was talking?" interrupted Hippy.
"Dis heah niggah doan know nothin' 'bout dat. Dey was talkin', an' den Ah jest jumps up—an' den Ah jumps up an runs away."
"How did you find your way here?" asked Anne.
"That is what I have been wondering," nodded Grace.
"Ah didn'. A feller kotched me when Ahrunned, an' held mah mouf shut so Ah couldn't holler. Den he-all fotched me heah. Den he gib me er kick an' says, 'Gwine on, yuh lazy niggah, but look out fer de guns. Dem folks kin shoot.' Dat's why Ah hollered when Ah kim inter de camp," finished Washington.
"Did you recognize any of the men who took you away from here?" questioned Miss Briggs.
Washington shook his curly head.
"Did you know the man who brought you back?" asked Grace.
"Ah did not. Who yuh reckons he was?"
"That is what we are trying to find out," Hippy informed him. "Would you know the man were you to see him again?"
"Ah didn' see him nohow. Ah felt him, Ah did, an' Ah feels him yit, Ah does."
"No need to question him," laughed Grace. "His militant friend was rather violent, it appears. Washington, get your blanket and lie down here near the tents. The camp is being guarded and you will be perfectly safe. The others had better turn in also, and get what rest they can. It now lacks only about two hours to daylight, and we shall be able to make an early start, now that Washington is here."
"Yes, he's here, but he would not be here if I had not con-centrated on him," spoke up Emma Dean.
"For the love of goodness, drop that piffle!" begged Hippy wearily. "We have enough serious matters on hand to think about without having to listen to prattle. Laundry, did you know that Miss Dean had been 'con-centrating' on you?"
"What dat? Er hoodoo?"
"Yes, that is what Miss Dean is trying to put on you," laughed Hippy.
"You listen to me, Wash!" demanded Emma spiritedly. "When I was con-centrating on you, making my mind reach out to yours, didn't your hair seem to stand on end just the way a cat's hair does when you stroke it the wrong way—"
"Yes'm! Mah hair stood up all right when dey kotched me," admitted Washington.
"And didn't you feel a distinct electric shock all over your being?"
"Just like as if you had run into an electric light pole?" interjected Hippy.
"No, suh. Didn' feel no shock, 'cept when dat feller kicked me. Ah felt dat all right an' Ah feels it yit."
"I reckon that will be about all. You see, Emma, this was not a case of mind over matter, but of a heavy boot against Washington Washington's anatomy," chuckled Hippy.
The Overland Riders laughed louder thantheir situation warranted, and Emma Dean, very red in the face, flounced off to her tent without another word.
"I think that was real mean of you, Hippy," chided Grace, laughing in spite of her effort to be stern.
Soon after that the camp settled down to quietness, with Hippy Wingate and Elfreda Briggs on guard, Grace having consented to lie down and sleep for the rest of the night—provided.
They were undisturbed, except when, shortly before daylight, something again aroused the ponies, but the disturbance quickly subsided, and the watchers believed that some animal had startled them.
At daylight the camp was astir—that is, with the exception of Hippy Wingate who insisted on a brief beauty nap after his two-hour vigil. He came out just as Washington, after building the cook-fire, was starting out to water the horses.
"Good morning, Lieutenant," greeted Emma Dean sweetly. "What's the quotation this morning?"
"On what?" demanded Hippy, halting and eyeing her suspiciously.
"On heads, of course."
"Is there any reason why, because I'm amarked man—because there is a price on my head, you should make fun of me? Having a price on one's head is not a joking matter. My mind is carrying a heavy weight, Emma Dean," rebuked Hippy impressively.
"Nonsense! I know better. If it was carrying a heavy burden your mind long ago would have caved in," retorted Emma.
Hippy Wingate threw up his hands in token of surrender, and breaking off a twig of laurel he gravely placed it in Emma's hair so that it drooped over her forehead.
"I bestow upon thee a crown of laurel," announced Hippy solemnly amid shouts of laughter.
"Come, children. Breakfast is ready," called Grace Harlowe. "Washington!"
"Ah'm comin'," answered the colored boy from the bush. "Ah found dis on de saddle," he announced, holding out an envelope to Grace.
She took it wonderingly.
"What's this? The rural free delivery man here so early in the morning!" questioned Emma.
"This is addressed to you, Lieutenant," said Grace, handing the envelope to Lieutenant Wingate.
Hippy read it and a frown grew on his face, deepening as he read it a second time.
"More mystery?" questioned Anne Nesbit.
"Yes. Listen to this, will you?"
Hippy read out loud the following words, almost illegible on the much smeared paper: