A LONELY TRAIL.

The hours crept by with leaden feet for Ding-dong until the chugging of Pepper’s motorcycle was heard soon after supper. The young wireless operator had tried to communicate with Goat Island in the meantime, but, as we already know, had failed in his attempt. As a last resource, therefore, he had entrusted a message to the operator at Station O.

“All ready?” demanded Pepper, as he came dashing up.

“Been rur-rur-ready ever since you left,” declared Ding-dong; “let’s get off as soon as possible.”

“All right, run along behind, and when I tell you to, swing into the seat,” ordered Pepper.

He started his motor with a whirr and a bang and the speedy machine dashed off down the street, with Ding-dong clinging on behind with all his might. But he enjoyed the ride and waved to several of his young acquaintances as the motorcycle sped through the town and then out upon the country road.

“How far is it out there?” asked Ding-dong of Pepper, as they chugged along at a fast gait.

“Not more than ten or twelve miles, but it is in a lonesome canyon near the sea, and as the ground is very unproductive out that way, there isn’t another ranch within miles. It makes a fine hiding place for a man like you describe this fellow Minory to be.”

“Yes, I’ll ber-ber-bet he thought he could stay there for a year without being found out. It’s a lot less rer-rer-risky for him than to ter-ter-try to take a train, for he knows all the depots and steamers are watched.”

“What puzzles me is how he came to take up his residence there. He’d hardly be likely to stumble on such a place by accident,” said Pepper, “especially as he is an Eastern product.”

“That’s all b-b-b-beyond me,” declared Ding-dong, “but I g-g-g-guess after his arrest that will be straightened out.”

“Gracious, talk about counting chickens before they’re hatched! You’ve got the handcuffs on him already.”

“If it’s Mum-Mum-Minory he’ll be in safe hands before long,” declared Ding-dong stoutly.

“Well, don’t you go messing up in it,” implored the cautious Pepper. “From what I saw of those fellows this afternoon, they wouldn’t stop at much if they thought they were going to be betrayed to the authorities.”

“Oh, I’ll be c-c-c-careful,” promised Ding-dong.

The motorcycle began to hum along roads that grew wilder and less inhabited. It was still twilight, and they could see lone ranches setting back among dismal bare hills, with a few scrawny cattle or sheep grazing behind apparently interminable stretches of barb-wire fences.

“Nice cheerful sort of country,” commented Pepper. “I don’t wonder your friend figured that nobody would come nosing around here unless they had to.”

“But you rode out here this afternoon,” said Ding-dong; “go-g-g-g-good thing you did, too.”

“That remains to be seen,” commented Pepper laconically.

It grew dark. They came to a cross-roads where stood the ruins of what once had been a store. But it had long since fallen into decay and stood there deserted and ruinous like the tombstone of past prosperity.

“Are we near there now?” asked Ding-dong.

“Yes, it’s about half a mile up this road and then quite a distance back from the sea-beach.”

“Then as we’re so close, you’d better shut down your machine. They might hear it and be on the lookout.”

“That’s so. Get ready to dismount then. All right? Whoa!”

The motorcycle stopped and the boys jumped off. Pepper leaned his machine up against the ruined store and prepared to follow Ding-dong and guide him. But the latter protested. There was no sense in Pepper’s running the risk of being captured, he argued; and besides, if he (Ding-dong) got into trouble, it would be the better plan to have Pepper out of harm’s way so that he could go back and give the alarm.

Pepper was forced to agree to this logic, and it was decided that if Ding-dong didn’t return in an hour Pepper was to ride at full speed back to town and get help. The boys shook hands and parted, Pepper assuring Ding-dong that he could not mistake the house, as there was only one in that direction.

It would be idle to deny that Ding-dong felt a thrill that was not wholly excitement as he struck off down the dark road alone. To make matters worse, it began to drizzle and blow; the storm which had already struck Goat Island was sweeping inland.

“Suppose this should all turn out to be a wild goose chase,” the boy thought as he trudged along, “I’d look like a fine idiot. But somehow I don’t think it will be. I’ve got a strong feeling that Minory’s jig is up at last. However, we’ll soon see.”

At length, to his right, and back from the road, he spied a solitary light.

“I guess that is the place,” he thought with a sudden sensation of tightness in his throat as if his heart had just taken up quarters there. To the boy there appeared something sinister, something like the evil glare of a one-eyed man in this solitary light in that lonely part of the country.

But Ding-dong didn’t hesitate long.

“I’ve got to take the bull by the horns if we ever want to get Minory by his whiskers,” he said to himself, and struck into a narrow sort of cow-track that appeared to lead toward the distant light. Behind him the sea moaned and crashed on the beach; ahead of him towered the solitary house in the gloomy canyon.

It was a rough track, little more than a trail, that the boy had decided to follow, but he found that it was steadily bringing him nearer to the light. Once he almost turned heel and ran for his life, such was the tension on his nerves. Out of the darkness before him had loomed suddenly a white face. It looked like a ghostly skull, and Ding-dong was so startled that he almost cried out aloud. The next minute he got mad with himself, for with a “Whoof!” the “baldy” steer, for that was what the white-faced apparition was, turned and clattered off.

“Wow! I’m getting as nervous as a girl on graduation day,” said Ding-dong to himself. “Bother this rain! I’ll catch one thing sure out of this, and that’s a fine young cold.”

The light was quite close now, and he advanced more cautiously. At last he could see the outlines of the ranch house bulking blackly against the slope of the bare hillside beyond. Like a cat stalking a mouse, Ding-dong crept forward. His heart beat so loudly that it sounded to him like the banging of a hammer against his ribs.

“Wish I could muffle it,” he said, in vain trying to compose his nerves.

It was a risky thing that the boy was doing, and one which a lot of men would have hesitated at. He knew Minory’s character, and was pretty sure that the man who would harbor him could not be much better than his guest. He might expect small mercy if he fell into their hands. Yet he was doing what he deemed to be his duty, and that thought gave him courage to proceed.

At last he reached a point of vantage where he could creep up on the window sidewise, and very slowly and patiently he did so. The casement was open, for the night was warm, and crouching under the open sash he listened attentively to the growl of masculine voices which was audible from within.

With a sharp thrill he recognized one of them as being Minory’s. The other was unknown. He had just made this discovery when something happened so entirely unexpected that the boy was for an instant almost deprived of his wits.

Without knowing it, he had been standing on a board. Suddenly it snapped in two without the slightest warning. As it broke, it gave a loud “crack!” almost as loud as a pistol shot.

“What’s that?” came a shout from within, and Ding-dong heard a heavy-footed rush for the window.

“It’s a spy!” came a shout, and then an oath.

Ding-dong’s activities returned with a rush. Like a jack rabbit he darted off, running as he had never run before. Behind him came shouts:

“It’s one of those kids! Get him! Get him if you have to shoot him! Don’t let him get away!”

Ding-dong’s fear lent him wings. As he fled, he heartily wished he had informed the police and let them attend to the case. But it was too late for such wishes now. All at once his foot caught in a root and he fell headlong. He was up in a second, but in that brief fraction of time his pursuers had gained on him.

Bang! A report sounded behind him and a bullet whistled somewhere near his head.

“Gracious, pretty close shooting, considering they’re on the run!” thought the boy.

Panting and desperate, he pressed on, while behind him still came the rapid beat of feet. Then came another sound that caused his terror to redouble. It was the sharp rattle of a horse’s hoofs coming forward at top speed! Ahead of the boy lay the sea. He could go no further.

“Gracious! It’s all over now!” he thought, when suddenly the earth appeared to drop out from under his feet and he felt himself falling, clutching frantically at the air, through space. Above him somewhere, heard dimly as if in a dream, came shouts and hoarse cries mingled with the trampling of hoofs.

Ding-dong gave a desperate shout, and it was still on his lips when he struck something solid but soft and yielding.