When the party had about given up the search, Danny at last found an excuse to get Mary Louise by herself in the shadows of the small garage.

“Let’s sit down a moment by this queer old tank,” he said, “for I’ve something most important to show you, Mary Louise.”

Danny handed her the small gold pencil with its monogram “J. O’H.” Startled, Mary Louise took it from him. “Why—why—Danny, then it is certain that your uncle has been here, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” answered Danny grimly, “and it’s certain he was here yesterday if Josie saw three men!”

“Mary Louise,” he added, “I don’t like this place at all. I can’t tell you how distressed I feel about Uncle Jim. Why, any person on this spot—that beautiful woman included—would kill as indifferently as they’d tell lies!”

Mary Louise was white with horror and her hands were clasped in despair. She was digging with the heel of her little pump into the packed sand as though to tear up the secret of O’Hara’s whereabouts.

Suddenly a strange thing happened. Her toe caught in a running root and pulled the pump from off her foot, and then, wonder of wonders, the pump completely disappeared! Amazement was written wide upon the faces of the two as they stood up to hunt for it. But look as Danny might, with Mary Louise hobbling after him as best she could, there was not a single trace of the missing slipper.

“I sympathized with Cinderella,” ruefully remarked Mary Louise, as she very carefully placed her stocking foot upon some twigs crossed loosely on the ground.

Then she gave a little scream of fright. Her foot had broken through the twigs and she sank to the ground caught in a good-sized hole.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” cried Danny, as he helped her to get her balance again.

Instantly, however, his attention was attracted to the opening Mary Louise’s fall had uncovered. It seemed to be a carefully excavated hole and they could see no bottom to it. “No wonder,” said Mary Louise, “that my slipper completely vanished.”

Just as she spoke they both leaned forward tensely as a quick flash of light came directly in their faces as they gazed down. It came again as they leaned near.

Quick as a flash Danny leaned over the opening. “Uncle Jim?” he called, his voice trembling with shock and excitement.

“Good boy, Danny!” came O’Hara’s voice, muffled by the earth, but sounding strong and hearty, to Danny’s great relief. “You saw the flash of my lantern?”

“Listen!” quickly continued the voice from the cave. “I’m safe enough, so don’t worry, but I have some important papers to deliver to the government. Danny, I must get them off to-night. Is there any way you can return and meet me?”

As Danny stood in thought, Mary Louise touched his arm. “Couldn’t we take you almost here, Danny?” she asked; “Just so they wouldn’t hear the engine. It’s dark to-night, and you could hide in their big motor car perhaps.”

“It’s like you to think of it,” said Danny, admiringly, “and of course I can.”

He repeated the plan to O’Hara below. “That’s good!” the man said eagerly. “We’ll have to run some risks of course, but it’s our best plan. Now mark me carefully.”

Danny leaned even lower to the opening.

“When they let me out, I’ll put these papers under the back seat of their car. The Jap is evidently ignorant of the fact they put me down here, and does not suspect that anything is missing, so he won’t be especially watchful. Then you hide in the back of the car. Each night he goes upon some errand southward. Ride with him a way and then roll out and wait for your own car. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” answered Danny.

“Then hurry off,” ended O’Hara.

“But,” wailed Mary Louise, “Can’t you fish me out my slipper, Danny? They’ll all wonder where it went.”

Danny looked around and saw a long pole leaning against the garage.

“Uncle Jim, will you put the slipper on this stick?” he called down, and in a moment it was balanced to the surface.

Without further speech Mary Louise put it on and the two started slowly, with seeming indifference, back to the house. Almost immediately the party clambered again into their waiting auto and started back for Albuquerque.

Poor Josie O’Gorman was feeling pretty blue and discouraged, and she surreptitiously wiped away a few tears from her blue eyes. But soon she was her splendid, cheery self again, and said to Danny and Mary Louise, who sat beside her: “In my business, now and then, we have to learn to be good losers. I want to be a good sport, and I do admit that this time I’ve been beaten.”

Then her face was lighted up with joy as she turned to Mary Louise and said—“And now I’m ready to finish up your wonderful trip with you.”

For the first time in her life Mary Louise felt that she could not tell Grandpa Jim what she was going to do, and she did not like the feeling. But to Mary Louise, as to most American girls, her love of country was the first thing in her life; so after seeing her grandfather comfortably settled at a game of rummy with Irene and Josie, she bade all three good-night and quietly slipped out of the room and down to the hotel corridor.

Danny was waiting for her with a heavy wrap and carefully bundled her up in the seat beside him. Then swiftly they started off.

The evening was cool and crisp as are all desert nights, and they were grateful that there was no moon. Danny and Mary Louise sped along uplifted by their patriotism and the thought that they were helping Uncle Jim. The miles fairly flew beneath the wheels and almost before they realized it they saw the distant lights of the Brown ranch. A mile farther on Mary Louise slowed up the car and Danny jumped out.

“Now I’ll drive round about slowly to the south,” said Mary Louise, “and good luck to you, Danny!”

Danny Dexter pressed the little hand she held out to him for quite a while. It was hard for him to let her vanish alone into the desert. However, it was their duty which lay before them. So, finally, he turned away, and Mary Louise proceeded southward at a brisk pace for a mile or two. Stopping the car, she settled down to her long wait, alone in the vastness of the desert night.

Danny stood straining his eyes after the departing machine, until he could no longer hear the hum of the motor. Then he turned and quietly ran toward the dark group of buildings.