As he neared the ranch the light which had been gleaming in the kitchen was extinguished. Danny paused, and saw the Mexican cook go to her quarters and close the door. Then he crept on close to the main bungalow.

Here lights were lit in each of the rooms and he saw preparations for hasty departure. The tall, blond man was ordering the Japanese to some activity. Just what, Danny could not make out, for the man spoke in German. Sure then that he was not watched from that quarter, Danny slipped close against the bunk house. Creeping in, he saw by the faint light that was burning that O’Hara and the burly man named Whalen were the only occupants. O’Hara seemed asleep, but the other half lay upon his bunk awake and watching him.

Danny Dexter had not planned his moves but he was ready. He flung open the door, and with a quick, cat-like leap, he was upon the man. Huge and powerful as Whalen was, Danny caught him at a disadvantage. Before he could regain his balance, O’Hara roused from his feigned sleep, sprang upon him, seizing Whalen’s arm, and freeing Danny so he could seize the towels which hung near by and gag the man’s mouth before he could make a sound. Then as O’Hara held him still firmly, Danny bound Tom Whalen’s arms together, then his legs.

Without another look at him, Danny and O’Hara slipped into the darkness.

“Have you the papers?” whispered Danny.

“I put them in their auto,” answered O’Hara. “Didn’t dare keep them; they search me every night.”

Quietly they glided on to the garage. The door was open and they entered unobserved and crawled down in among the robes in the tonneau of the car. Here they settled down to long and tedious waiting, and now in quick, jerky sentences, old Jim O’Hara recounted the striking chain of events that led up to his present position.

However, the two men were pleasantly disappointed in the length of their hiding. Scarcely had they concealed themselves than the Japanese appeared and climbed into the car without a backward glance toward the tonneau. Softly, they hummed out of the garage and turned to the southward.

When they had gone about a mile, Danny quietly pressed O’Hara’s arm and without a sound unlatched the door of the machine. Then as it noiselessly came open, Danny Dexter slipped out onto the ground. A few feet farther O’Hara did the same. Both lay absolutely still until in the distance they heard the Jap swing to with a slam the open door, and they knew as he continued on his journey that he was entirely without suspicion.

Danny took an electric torch from the pocket of his coat and flashed it here and there. He was answered by a similar flash not very far to the west and soon Mary Louise drove up to them and reached out eager hands of welcome.

“Oh, you are safe and here so quickly,” she cried, a little catch in her breath as she realized her plucky vigil was now over.

She moved over to let Danny have the wheel and O’Hara stepped into the back.

“Danny,” whispered Mary Louise, as she leaned toward him confidingly on the return trip, “do you think it will be necessary for Uncle Jim to leave the United States now? After risking his life the way he did to secure those papers, don’t you think the government would be lenient in his case?”

“I hope so,” said Danny in a low tone. “As you know, all Uncle Jim wants is a chance to make good and rectify his old mistake, and I hardly think they will refuse him that.”

“They shouldn’t,” said Mary Louise with conviction. “It would be mean if they did.”

Danny glanced sideways at the girl, whose brow showed a few tiny furrows.

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your interest in Uncle Jim,” Danny said. “I want you to know that we have both talked the matter over, and I have persuaded Uncle Jim to remain in Albuquerque until the government has acted in the case of Henry Brown and his treasonable outfit. He will certainly be needed as a witness if the government apprehends them and they are brought to trial.”

“I can be of some assistance to him, too,” said Mary Louise. “After I tell Josie O’Gorman all that has happened, I know she will feel very different about your uncle. Maybe she can interest her father in the case, and no man in the department at Washington has more influence then John O’Gorman.”

As the two young people sat conversing in low tones, heads close together, a soft smile played about the corners of James O’Hara’s lips. Did he see in the charming tableau before him a reflection of his own lost youth? Perhaps. Out of the dim past, recollections of his own youthful romance may have arisen, luring his mind to years long gone by.

Danny and Mary Louise kept up an intermittent fire of conversation as “Queenie” sped along the sinuous roadway that led to Albuquerque. Now and then, the lovely girl, her face wreathed in smiles, would turn around and address a word or two to the quiet man in the rear.

In less than an hour’s time, the little machine, under Danny’s practised hand, had reached the outskirts of the busy New Mexican town, which now lay wrapped in night. A few minutes more and the car drew up at the hotel entrance. After a final few minutes of hurried conversation and a chorus of “good-nights,” Mary Louise darted into the entrance and ran straight up to her room. Ten minutes later she was in the depths of slumber. Danny, left with Uncle Jim in the Hathaway car, met a twinkle in the older man’s eye that caused him to blush profusely.

“My boy,” said O’Hara, “you have been mighty fine to me. I don’t know what I could have done without you. Nothing, I’m afraid. You deserve a great deal from life, Danny. I’d be the first to admit it. But the chap who wins Mary Louise will be overpaid,—even you, my boy. She is pure gold. I hope you will win.”

Danny had tried to interrupt his uncle’s speech several times, but it was useless. The older man laid an affectionate hand on the boy’s shoulder.

“Say nothing about it,” he said. “Words, after all, are but feeble things. It is life alone that counts.”

There were a few minutes of silence before either of the two spoke again. Then O’Hara resumed:

“I want to say just one more thing, Danny, and that concerns my oil well, or, rather, your oil well, for I mean to turn it over to you. When I am free of this trouble, I expect to take personal charge of the well. A few months’ production will suffice to pay all of my debts. Then the well is yours. You will find, my boy, that you will have enough, and more than enough, to live in plenty.”

Tears stood in the young man’s eyes as Uncle Jim made his generous offer.

Then he said:

“No, no, Uncle Jim! I couldn’t think of it! If you will let me take half of the work and responsibility, I’ll share the proceeds with you. But on that condition only, Uncle Jim!”

“Well, well,” said O’Hara. “Have it your own way. We’ll draw up a partnership agreement. There’ll be more than enough room for both of us, I’m sure.”

“Uncle Jim, I don’t think we ought to lose a minute in rousing the government authorities. Brown evidently has scented danger, though from what source, I don’t know. He was making preparations to leave when I looked through his window. What do you say, uncle? Shall we chance it?”

“You are right, as usual, Danny,” replied O’Hara. “Let us go at once. I need not reveal my identity to-night. There will be time enough to-morrow or the next day to tell the full story of how I happened to be on the ranch. Then we will see if there is such a thing as mercy for one who has been weak.”

Danny glanced at the kindly, weather-beaten features of his uncle, and vowed that he would leave no stone unturned to help the good old fellow regain the honor and respect that had formerly been his.

Then, turning the machine in the opposite direction, he fairly flew over the deserted streets until the municipal building was reached. Rapidly ascending the steps of the building, Danny and O’Hara fairly rushed into the office of the police magistrate.

Half-sitting, half-lying, in a large, commodious, upholstered swivel chair was the single individual the office contained. This bestarred person was giving vent to a capacious yawn as the two men hurriedly entered the room. Rubbing his eyes and staggering to his feet, the officer looked at them as though uncertain of the reality of their existence.

“What’s the matter?” he finally exploded.

And then, as Danny, prompted from time to time by O’Hara, recited the main outlines of their evening’s experiences, and finally produced their bundle of papers as evidence, amazement and consternation was written in every feature of the man’s countenance.

“Jehosaphat!” exclaimed the astounded officer.

A minute later and the three were motoring furiously through the crisp night air in the direction of the home of Mr. Southwick, the Federal officer for that district.