Although Harold Mason had told the girls and Mrs. Higgins that he was going to Besley to telephone to Marjorie’s father, he naturally did no such thing. He spent the time, however, in the woods, near enough so that he might keep the farm-house in view and yet be concealed from its inmates. At night he crept back to the barn to sleep.

He therefore witnessed the return of Miss Phillips and Ethel in search of their missing companions, and approached close enough to catch most of the conversation. He was secretly pleased with the ingenuity of Mrs. Higgins, and smiled at old Michael’s report that she was not “all there.” He found her an admirable accomplice.

The only drawback to his situation was the lack of food. He was forced to go and buy his meals or else to live on cold canned things all the time. These two methods he alternated, going over to Besley each night for his evening meal, and buying enough there for his breakfast and lunch.

It so happened that he was still at Besley when the girls made their escape. Returning that night about nine o’clock, all seemed as quiet as usual to him, and he made his way up to the barn loft to sleep.

About seven o’clock the next morning he was awakened by the shrill cries of Mrs. Higgins.

“The girls is gone!” she shrieked, although Harold had no idea who she expected would hear her. However, he hastened to the house, unlocked the door, and found her wringing her hands and walking wildly about the kitchen.

“Are you sure?” he asked, unable to believe the news.

“Come and see fer yourself,” she answered, leading the way to their room.

The door was standing open and the bed clothes were thrown back over the bed. The netting which had covered the window was hanging in shreds, and fluttering to and fro in the light breeze; already the room was filled with flies.

“How in the world——?” began Harold.

“It must be by the lattice here on the wall!” She led the way across the room, and directed her guest to follow her. Then she told him to lean out of the window. “You’ve got to admit it was plucky of ’em!” she added.

“Darn it all!” cried Harold, in the utmost dismay. “And here I thought maybe I’d get news from the girl’s father today! But where could they have gone? I removed their canoe.” Harold was so excited that he forgot the disguised tones and accents he had adopted, and his voice sounded particularly young and boyish. Mrs. Higgins looked at him critically, but she did not detect the deceit. She simply thought the man was beside himself at the idea of losing so much money when it was just about to be within his grasp. And yet she felt glad, in a way, that the girls had escaped.

“They’s no path to speak of on this here side o’ the creek. They must ’ave swam acrost!”

“Is there a path on the opposite bank?” asked Harold.

“Yes—a good one.”

“But their clothing would be all wet. And they have no money, and nothing to eat!”

“Sure enough,” said Mrs. Higgins. She was silent then for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. “Poor critters!” she sighed. “I only hope that they don’t ketch their death of cold.”

“Isn’t there any place they could stop?” asked Harold, carelessly. In reality, he knew that an affirmative answer would be the only hope for the success of his plan.

But Mrs. Higgins did not perceive any ulterior motive. She seemed only to be thinking of the girls’ safety.

“Yes,” she answered slowly. “There’s the widder Brown and her brother. But they’re that tight I can’t believe they’d ever take anybody in.” “And how far away do they live?”

“About four mile—the gals’d be sure to stop by then, with their wet clothin’ and all. Oh, I do hope the widder loosens up a bit and takes ’em in!”

“Well, I guess there’s nothing more to do,” said Harold; “I might as well give up. But you did your part fine, Mrs. Higgins! And here’s another five for all your trouble!”

Harold turned over the keys to her and sauntered out to the barn to get his car. But once away from the farm, he drove like mad.

Crossing the nearest bridge, he took the road along the stream, keeping a sharp look-out for the “widder Brown’s” and watching his speedometer to know when he had gone four miles.

Soon he came to a tumble-down farm-house, quite different from the neat, up-to-date one he had just left. But he hardly noticed the place itself, for the most pleasing sight that could have greeted him met his eyes. Hanging on a clothes line in the back yard, exposed to the sun, were two scout uniforms!

Harold breathed a great sigh of relief and pulled his Ford up beside the dilapidated porch. He noticed with satisfaction that the woodwork needed painting, and he was glad to recall the fact that Mrs. Higgins had said they loved money. Surely he could bribe them to do what he wanted here!

A middle-aged man, unshaven and slovenly in appearance, shuffled to the door. Harold diplomatically touched his hat, and went up the steps. Then he repeated the story he had told to Mrs. Higgins, handing the man a ten dollar gold piece and offering him half of the reward in case they were successful. He said nothing, however, about the experience at Mrs. Higgins’s. He watched the greedy eyes gleam at the glitter of the precious metal, and knew before the man made his answer that it would be favorable.

“It’ll be hard,” he objected, “because we’d have to keep the winders closed downstairs. It’d be pretty stuffy.”

“But you can keep the upstairs ones open,” said Harold, impatiently. “However, suit yourself. Ain’t it worth ten dollars to you sure, with a chance at five hundred, to stand a little heat for a day or two till I get this runaway gal’s dad on the phone?”

The allurement proved too great; the man surrendered.

“The gals is still in bed,” he said; “they only got here about four o’clock this mornin’ and my sister put ’em right t’ bed. So we’ve got a good chance to git everything locked up tight.”

“All right,” replied Harold. “I’ll go back to the telephone. The girl says her pa and ma would be out o’ town till Tuesday, so I’ll jest stop at Besley and keep at it. Then, no matter what happens, I’ll turn up Tuesday night—with either good news or bad news. But even if it’s bad news, there’s another ten-spot here for you if the girls is still with you!”

“Very good!” agreed the man, perfectly pleased with the transaction. “They’ll be here! Don’t you fret!”

Harold had just a moment to meet the “Widder Brown,” and when the man was not looking, he pressed a crumpled bill into her hand. Then he jumped into his Ford and was gone.

“And now for home and mother!” he exclaimed, making for the creek, where he stopped a few minutes to remove and wash off his disguise.

“By George! That feels good!” he said, as he finished shaving with the aid of his pocket mirror. Then, jumping into the creek for a swim, he came out and dressed in his own clothes.

“Even old lady Higgins wouldn’t know me now!” he chuckled in satisfaction. Then, “I wonder how long the old bird will keep Marjorie and Frieda! Ha! Ha! Ruth, the trick’s done! You will get the silver cup. And I’m going to be engaged to the prettiest little girl in town very soon, or know the reason why!

“By the immortal gods!” he cried; “I do believe I’ll make a trip to Silvertown myself. But first I’ll go home and get my duds!”