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CHAPTER XXV – THE FIGHT IN THE DARK

The man looked at them curiously.

“Friend of yours?” he questioned.

“Friend!” exclaimed Bob. “He’s a thief, and it’s only luck that he isn’t a murderer. He blackjacked Mr. Harvey over at the radio station and got away with a pile of money. Which way did he go?”

“Over in the direction of Allendale,” replied the man, pointing out into the darkness. “So he’s a thief, is he? If I had known that I’d have nabbed him. That explains why he was so excited. He offered me any money for a car, but mine were all out at the time.”

“I tell you what!” said Bob. “We’ve got to get that man and we can’t waste a minute. Suppose you go to the police station and tell them what you know and have them call up the Allendale police and tell them to be on the watch for a man that stutters.”

“I’ll do that, sure,” replied the man, and immediately suited the action to the word.

“Come along, Joe,” cried Bob, and they both plunged into the darkness, following the direction that the man had pointed out.

Cassey had had a fifteen-minute start, but the distance to Allendale was nearly four miles, and the boys had no doubt that they would be able to overcome that handicap, provided Cassey kept to one of the two roads by which it was possible to reach the town. Those roads ran nearly parallel for quite a distance, separated at places by a quarter of a mile and at others by half a mile, but joining each other about half a mile before Allendale was reached.

“Of course, we don’t know just which road Cassey has taken, and if we stick to either one we may make the wrong guess,” said Bob. “So it will be good dope for us to separate and each take one of the roads. If either of us gets the skunk he can give our regular yodel call and the other one can come hurrying to him across the fields. We’ll never be more than half a mile from each other.”

Joe assented to this and took the road that ran almost parallel to but at the left of the one that Bob was following.

The rain by this time had diminished somewhat in violence, but the roads were muddy and progress for Bob was slow. It was so dark that it was impossible to choose one’s footing, and he had to splash along as best he could.

On a night like that no one was abroad that was not compelled to be, and the road was completely deserted. For the first mile there was nothing to indicate that Bob was anywhere near his quarry. And he had almost covered a second mile before he thought that he could hear footsteps splashing along in front of him.

He quickened his pace, and the sound of steps ahead grew louder. But that his own steps could also be heard by the fugitive was indicated by the sudden cessation of the noise in front.

Had Cassey, if he were indeed the man in front, stopped? Was he hiding until his pursuer had passed? Was he lying in wait to brain him as he came along?

All these reflections passed through Bob’s mind like a flash. And he too stopped for a moment while he pondered his course of action.

For less than a minute he hesitated. Then he moved forward. Anything was better than inaction. If his enemy was lying in wait for him and they came to handgrips – well, that was what he was looking for. All he asked was a chance to lay his hands on the villain who had assaulted and narrowly escaped killing his friend. Boy as he was, he was as tall and muscular as many a man, and he was willing to take his chance.

He had gone perhaps a hundred feet when nature came to his aid. There was a terrific clap of thunder, and the lightning flash that followed flooded all the landscape with light.

There at the side of the road, not ten feet from him, was Cassey, trying to climb a fence. His intent was obvious – to steal off through the fields while his pursuer was vainly hunting him along the road.

With a shout Bob leaped toward him. He covered the ground in two jumps, caught Cassey by the coat, and yanked him back to the ground

With a savage snarl the rascal drew a blackjack and aimed a blow at Bob’s head that would certainly have knocked him out had it landed. But with pantherlike swiftness Bob leaped aside, and as Cassey tried to regain his balance, Bob’s fist shot out with terrific force and caught Cassey right on the point of the jaw. Cassey went down in the mud, and in an instant Bob was on top of him and had wrenched the weapon from his hand.

“Now, Cassey,” Bob commanded, emphasizing his words by a tap with the blackjack, “keep quiet or I’ll give you a crack with this that will send you to the land of dreams. Understand?”

That Cassey understood was shown by the fact that he instantly ceased to struggle and lay limp beneath his captor, who sat astride of him.

Keeping the weapon ready for instant use and not taking his eyes from his captive, Bob lifted up his voice in the yodel call that had been agreed upon between him and Joe. The shrill call carried far, and Bob had no doubt that it would be heard.

Knowing that force was of no avail, Cassey resorted to pleading.

“L-l-let me g-go,” he begged. “I’ll g-g-give you a th-th-thousand dollars if you l-let me go.”

“Keep still, you skunk,” ordered Bob. “Do you think I’m a crook like yourself?”

“I’ll m-m-m-make it two th-th-thousand,” stuttered Cassey.

“Not if you made it a hundred thousand,” replied Bob. “I’ve got you, Cassey, and you won’t get off this time as easily as you did when you tried to rob an orphan girl. It’s you for jail, and you’ll stay a good long while where the dogs won’t bite you.”

At intervals Bob repeated his call in order to guide his friend, and in a few minutes there was a crashing of the bushes and Joe stood at his side, almost breathless with the haste he had made.

“What is it, Bob?” he asked, peering down on the prostrate form of Cassey, on which Bob was still sitting.

“I have met the enemy and he is ours,” answered Bob exultingly. “I’m afraid he’s a little out of breath from my sitting on him. So just slip off your belt, Joe, and fasten his feet together and then I can get up and stretch my legs.”

It took but a minute for Joe to pinion Cassey’s feet securely, and then Bob got up. He told Joe briefly what had taken place.

“There’s just one thing to do, Joe,” Bob concluded. “You streak it for town and bring a policeman and we’ll turn this fellow over to him. In the meantime I’ll stand guard – Hello, what’s that?”

There was a glare of light from the lamps of an automobile that was coming from the direction of Ocean Point. The car had just turned a curve in the road a hundred yards away and was bearing down upon them rapidly.

Both boys leaped into the center of the road and waved their hands. The driver of the car saw the boys and slowed down, and as the car came to a stop Herb jumped down and ran toward them.

“We’ve got Cassey,” shouted Bob.

“Glory hallelujah!” cried Herb. “I got this car and came after you, and I’ve got a couple of policemen with me. Where is the rascal?”

They dragged Cassey to his feet and delivered him into the care of the two officers, who had followed close on Herb’s heels. They bundled him into the car and the whole party drove rapidly back to town. There the rascal was searched, and the whole amount of the theft was found stowed away in his pockets. The money was taken in charge by the proper officials to be delivered to Brandon Harvey in the morning, and Cassey was dragged off to a cell. Then the boys left the station, with their cheeks burning from the praise that was heaped on them by the authorities for their quick-wittedness and bravery.

“Such a night!” exclaimed Bob, as the boys took their seats in the car which they had retained to carry them over to the radio station.

“We’ll never have such an exciting one again as long as we live,” declared Joe emphatically.

But he was mistaken, as will be seen in the next volume of this series, entitled: “The Radio Boys at the Sending Station; Or, Making Good in the Wireless Room.”

As the bridge was down they had to skirt the head of the inlet to reach the radio station. There they found Mr. Harvey, still badly shaken by the attack, but steadily getting better. His cousin, Frank Brandon, who had been notified of the trouble, was with him and was attending to the duties of the station.

Both men leaped to their feet as the boys entered. The sight of the three happy faces told its own story.

“We got him!” cried Bob. “Nailed him on the road between here and Allendale. And we’ve got back every cent of the money.”

Infinite relief dawned in Brandon Harvey’s eyes as he shook hands with the boys and thanked them again and again.

“You’ve given me a new lease of life,” he cried. “And now I’ve got some good news for you in return. The Horolusa is safe. The leak is patched up, the Falcon and Esperanto are standing by, and the storm is subsiding. In a day or two your folks will again be with you, safe and sound at Ocean Point.”

Then jubilee broke loose and the boys fairly danced about the room in their relief and delight.

“How can we ever thank you enough!” cried Bob.

“Don’t thank me,” returned Harvey. “I did a little, but you did more. For don’t forget that it was your message that saved the ship.”

THE END