"I will see you there, then."

"Very well."

The detective left the train, and stood alone on the platform of the little station. There were not a dozen houses in sight, and it was not often that the express halted at this place. Here the daring deed of robbers had been discovered. It could not be far from here that the outlaws left the express car, doubtless springing off and escaping in the darkness as the train slowed up to the station.

Not a soul in sight.

d.y.k.e Darrel entered the depot, to see a man standing at the window who had been watching the moving train as it rushed away on its northern course.

"No public house here, sir," said the man, who proved to be the railway agent, in answer to an inquiry from the detective.

"Then I must find some one who will keep me for a short time,"

returned d.y.k.e Darrel. "I am looking for a location in which to open a gun-shop."

"Guns would sell here, I reckon," said Mr. Bragg. "I guess maybe I can accommodate you with a stopping-place for a day or two."

"Thanks. I will pay you well."

"I'm not a shark," answered the agent. "You see that brown house up yonder, in the edge of that grove?"

"Yes."

"That's my place. I can't go up just now; but you may tell my wife that I sent you, and it will be all right."

d.y.k.e Darrel sauntered down past several dingy-looking dwellings until he came to the house of Mr. Bragg. It was really the most respectable dwelling in the place, which could not have been famous for its fine residences.

The aspect about was not calculated to prepossess one in favor of the country. Somehow, it seemed to the detective that Black Hollow was half a century behind the age. Mrs. Bragg was a shy, ungainly female, and not at all communicative.

Darrel occupied the remainder of the day in exploring the country in the vicinity. A creek crossed the railroad and entered a deep gulch, the sides of which were lined with a dense growth of bushes.

An ill-defined path led down the steep side of the gulch, and was lost to sight in the dense growth at the bottom.

d.y.k.e Darrel followed this path, and soon found himself in a dense wood that seemed to cover a strip of bottom land. Moving on, the deep shadows soon encompa.s.sed him on every side.

A solemn stillness seemed to pervade the place, and a feeling of loneliness came over the detective.

"What a splendid place for secreting plunder, or hiding from officers of the law."

It was almost dark ere the detective turned to retrace his steps. The narrow path grew indistinct, and it was only with the utmost difficulty that d.y.k.e Darrel kept his course.

The snapping of a dry twig suddenly startled him.

This sound was followed almost instantly by the whip-like crack of a rifle. A stinging sensation on the cheek, together with the whistle of a deadly bullet, warned d.y.k.e Darrel of a narrow escape.

CHAPTER XI.

POOR SIBYL!

Instantly the detective drew his revolver and sought shelter behind a tree. Then he gazed sharply in the direction from whence the sound of the rifle had come.

A faint line of smoke in the distance alone met the gaze of d.y.k.e Darrel.

It was evident that some one had fired upon him with murderous intent.

This was the belief of the detective.

"Somebody has dogged my steps; there can be no doubt about that,"

answered d.y.k.e Darrel. "I was not wrong in my supposition that Black Hollow is the rendezvous of a gang of outlaws. I wish I had one good man with me to help hunt these scoundrels down."

The darkness deepened, but no one appeared, and fearing that he would not be able to follow the path if he tarried, d.y.k.e Darrel, with his revolver in hand, ready for use, moved from his shelter, and attempted to make his way out of the labyrinth in which he found himself.

The detective soon lost the path, however, and found himself in a desperate tangle, with the blackness of a dismal night settling down upon the place.

"I'm in a pickle, now, for a fact," muttered d.y.k.e Darrel. "I was a little indiscreet in coming here so late in the day. It does seem as though I must come out somewhere if I continue to strive."

Nevertheless, an hour's walk in the dense undergrowth failed to bring the detective to the bank of Black Hollow, or to any opening. "A veritable trap for the unwary," growled d.y.k.e, as he halted with his back against a tree, with the perspiration oozing from every pore.

Even his wiry limbs and muscles were not proof against the tangled nature of the wood into which he had so coolly entered.

d.y.k.e Darrel was not in a pleasant mood as he stood meditating on the situation.

"It looks now as though I was destined to remain in the wood all night."

It was not a pleasing prospect.

The detective was on the point of making one more effort to break through the tangle that encompa.s.sed him, when something caught his eye that sent a thrill to his heart.

It was the glimmer of a light.

It did not seem to be far away, and d.y.k.e Darrel resumed his fight with the thickets with renewed courage. In a little time he entered a glade in the woods, to find himself standing in near proximity to a low log cabin, through a narrow window of which a light glimmered.

"Some one lives here, it seems."

d.y.k.e Darrel moved forward cautiously, for he still believed that the wood was the haunt of outlaws, and this very house might be the den where the plunder of many raids was secreted.

Soon the detective stood on a little rise of ground, in such a position that he could peer into the window. The interior of a small, poorly-furnished apartment met his gaze. Beside the glowing embers of a wood fire in a box stove crouched a human figure, seemingly the only occupant of the lone log cabin.

There was a wealth of golden hair flashing in the firelight, and the black robe covered the form of what seemed to be a beautiful woman.

As may be supposed, the detective was surprised at the sight. After a moment of reflection he resolved to enter the cabin.

Striding to the door, he rapped gently. No answer came, and the detective rapped again. This time the door was cautiously opened, and a white face peered out.

"Who's there?"

"A traveler who has lost his way."