The Galloping Ghost | Page 6

had always been that way.
The time for action had not yet come. They continued to listen there in the dark; a boy and a girl; the girl kidnaped for ransom which she refused to assist in collecting, the boy carried away and held for he knew not what.
The ticking of their watches sounded loud in this lonely place. Water lapped on the shore. From time to time there came a low bump-bump.
"Rowboat tied to the dock," Red whispered to the girl. "Wonder if we could get it?"
She made no reply From somewhere back in the forest a hoot owl began his silly noise. Red did not know what it was.
He asked the girl about it. She explained briefly.
"Hope he keeps it up," he sighed. "Cover up any little nasty sounds we may stir up."
"Will there be noises?" The girl seemed to shrink.
Then suddenly her form stiffened. "Count me in on-- on anything. They are dirty dogs, these kidnapers; deserve the worst!"
"Yes, the very worst!" Red agreed.
He felt loath to leave this place of warmth and momentary peace. There was something altogether agreeable about being so near to this girl he had never seen. "Well, the zero hour approaches."
"Yes." She sprang to her feet. "Let's make it now!"
"Now it is."
He rose to stand beside her. So for one full moment, side by side in the dark, they stood.
At last, with a long-drawn sigh, he seized her hand to lead her out into the night.
CHAPTER IV
THE GHOST APPEARS
THE mysterious disappearance of Red Rodgers, or the Red Rover, as every one knew him, caused a great commotion. Had a President been assassinated it could not have caused a greater stir.
Not an hour had passed after he vanished before the newspapers came out with an extra with a story telling in detail all that was known about the affair.
"Red Rover," the story ran has never cared for crowds. Being the star of the team, he has often of late been all but mobbed by impetuous youths, foolish old women and infatuated girls. For this reason he had formed a friendship with the watchman at the tracks by the river where the trains are made up. Tonight, once safely past this watchman, he went directly to his berth and turned in for the night.
"It is to be assumed that he fell asleep at once for, though the watchman was not two hundred yards away, he heard no outcry such as might be expected had the boy been surprised while asleep and gagged before fully awake.
"There are few clues," the story went on to state. "In their haste the kidnapers dragged a pillow from the berth. It was this pillow, standing out white in the moonlight, that attracted the watchman's attention. The watchman distinctly recalls hearing the sudden whir and thunder of a powerful motor shortly before making this discovery. He believes this to have been the motor of a speed boat, and has the impression that it went south.
"Various motives have been brought forward. The Rover, some say, was kidnaped for ransom. He is the all-important factor in the game to be played at the end of the week. Without him Old Midway cannot hope to win. For this reason the kidnapers may have believed that a sum might be extorted from officials of the university for his return. Knowing the stand that President Lovell of Old Midway has taken against kidnapers, and the work the Crime Institute of that university has done in this connection, it is the opinion of those close to the president that no ransom will be paid.
"We have before us the question: Was the Red Rover kidnaped for ransom or as a retaliation for work against master criminals carried on by the university? There are those who will whisper that the school against whom the Red Rover was to have played is behind this affair. This, to any fair-minded person, is unthinkable.
"Sergeants Drew Lane and Tom Howe, two of the keenest young minds of the city's detective force, have been assigned to the case. It is the hope of the entire city that their labors will bear fruit and that the Red Rover's beloved sorrel top will be seen in the line when the line-up is formed for the greatest game of the year."
An hour had not passed after the discovery of the crime, when the broad-shouldered, athletic Drew Lane, with derby pushed well back on his head, stood beside his slim, hawk-nosed partner overlooking the car yards at the spot where the Red Rover had vanished.
"Let's have a look inside the car," suggested Howe.
"You look." Drew Lane turned toward the river. "If a speed boat left the river near this spot, there'll be marks to show. May get a sure tip showing the direction she was headed. That's important."
Sergeant