"He's gone!" she said. "I can't find him!"

At this moment the door leading to the kitchen was flung open by a heavy body striking against it, and into the dining room staggered Aaron, his clothes torn, his face pale, and a streak of blood across one temple.

At sight of him the others sprang up.

"What has happened?" cried d.i.c.k.

"I canna tell!" moaned Aaron. "Th' guid young man asked me to meet him at th' back o' th' house. When I did so an' we were speakin' together a band o' men wi' masks ower their faces sprang out upon us. One o' them grappled wi' me. I tried to tear fra him, an' thin I saw all th' stars o' heaven fa' on my haid. Next I found mysel' strecht on th' ground an'

th' stars back i' their places; but th' young man were gone an' th' men ha vanished."

Having made this explanation, Aaron fell heavily to the floor.

Nadia promptly fainted in Brad Buckhart's arms. The old professor threw up his thin hands and looked quite helpless. The widow a.s.sisted Buckhart to take the senseless girl into the sitting room and place her on the couch near the crackling, open fire.

d.i.c.k Merriwell lost not a moment in kneeling beside Aaron and examining his injury. He found a very slight cut in the hair near the temple.

"Stop that groaning!" he sternly commanded. "You're not even badly hurt; you're scarcely scratched."

"Na! na!" gasped the little man. "I think I maun dee!"

"You won't die from anything that has happened to you to-night. Get up!

Stop this foolishness! Why, I can't even find a b.u.mp on your head, and there should be a swelling there if you were hit so frightfully hard.

Sit up!"

d.i.c.k's manner was commanding, and, although he continued to take on, Aaron sat up.

"Now, see here," said young Merriwell, "I want you to tell me that story again, and tell it straight. Just what did happen outside the inn?"

Aaron repeated his tale, without much variation. Practically it was the same.

"Do you mean to tell me that little scratch rendered you unconscious, man?" demanded d.i.c.k. "Why, it wouldn't hurt a sick kitten!"

"I were struck on th' heid wi' somethin'."

"Where is the abrasion or the swelling?"

"I ken naething about abreesions, sir. A' I know, the sky seemed to fa'

on me."

There was insincerity in Aaron's tones, and d.i.c.k doubted him.

"Get a lantern," he ordered. "I suppose you have one about the place?"

"Ay."

"Get up! Bring me that lantern, and lose not a second."

He a.s.sisted the little man to his feet. Aaron professed to be weak and confused, but d.i.c.k placed a heavy hand on him, saying sternly:

"If you cause me delay, I shall suspect that you do it purposely.

Budthorne is rich, and those concerned in any harm to him cannot fail to be punished severely. If masked men carried him off, a hundred armed hunters will be engaged to search for them and kill them like dogs when found. Those who are not killed will be arrested and imprisoned. Work hard and fast, Aaron, that you are not suspected of having part in this bad business."

"Na one who knows poor Aaron will suspect him o' any wrong," was the fellow's protest.

"You don't know the manner of Americans. They suspect every one concerned in an affair until he is found guiltless. Is this the lantern, Aaron? Light it instantly and lead me to the spot where this struggle took place."

Somewhat awed by d.i.c.k and feeling the power of the boy's will, the serving man tremblingly lighted the lantern, after which he conducted Merriwell from the house to the spot where the encounter had taken place.

"Stand still," ordered Merriwell, taking the lantern from the man's hand. "Let me read the signs here."

There were tracks in the snow and some indications of a struggle. At one point was an imprint that seemed to indicate a man had fallen there.

d.i.c.k picked up something, glanced at it by the light of the lantern and slipped it into a pocket.

Anxiously Aaron watched the boy, about whose manner there was method that alarmed the servant. Somehow Aaron began to believe d.i.c.k was reading those imprints and footmarks like the printed words of a book.

He was not far from right.

"What have you found, pard?" It was the voice of Buckhart, who had issued from the back door of the inn.

"Budthorne was struck down by men who had been concealed behind this little building," said d.i.c.k. "They stepped out upon him as he stood here at the corner of the building, with his back turned in their direction.

Aaron stood in front of him. They struck him with a sandbag, or some m.u.f.fled weapon that did not cut his head."

"How many of them were there?"

"Four. Three of them lifted and carried him toward the road, two holding his arms, while the third had his legs. The fourth chap, who was the leader, walked in advance. Three of them do not belong hereabouts, but the fourth, a heavy man with very big feet, belongs in the country."

"Guid Lord!" whispered Aaron to himself, "how do he ken a' that?"

d.i.c.k's early training by the old Indian, Joe Crowfoot, was standing him in good stead now.

Holding the lantern low, Merriwell followed the tracks toward the road.

"It's likely they carried him off in a carriage, partner," said the Texan.

But when the highway was reached, where it seemed that the boy with the lantern could find nothing to guide him to any conclusions, d.i.c.k continued his search, seeming to pick out the trail amid the many imprints there.

"There was no carriage here," said the lad with the lantern. "They still carried him in the original manner."

"But they could not contemplate carrying him far in that way."

"Surely not."

"Pard, are you armed?"

"No; are you?"

"I'm a-heap sorry to say I'm not."