"Why, there's the S. W. & P.!" she exclaimed, as she discovered the letters along a graceful black line.

"And here," supplemented the smiling Courtney, "is the B. F. & N. W.!"

"I see," returned Constance delightedly. "They're both railroads! They run up into Washington and Oregon, but the S. W. & P. has to go away round this big pink spot. If it cuts right across there it can go to Washington much quicker. Why, I should think by all means that the route by way of Sage City and Salt Pool would be the best!"

Mr. Boise surveyed her with joyous eyes and chuckled until his breast heaved. "It might be," he admitted with a friendly glance at Johnny.

"One big advantage," urged Johnny, "is that it would be an all-level route, with solid ground and but very little grading," and he plunged with breathless energy into the task of convincing Mr. Boise that the Sage City and Salt Pool route was the only feasible one.

They discussed that topic for two solid hours, but before the first thirty minutes had elapsed Johnny had unconsciously reached over into Constance's lap and had taken one of her hands. There seemed to be nothing in particular that she could do about it, so she let him keep it, and he used it occasionally to gesture with. What difference did it make if Courtney and Boise did smile about it at first?

When the railroad party had been dispersed by Winnie--who had const.i.tuted herself rigid master of the revels--Constance and Johnny found themselves tete-a-tete up in the prow for just a tiny moment.

"Do you suppose he'll decide on the Sage City and Salt Pool route?" she anxiously inquired.

"I hope so," declared Johnny. "If he does, I think I see a chance to make a little money."

"Maybe we'd better talk some more with him," she suggested, looking about for Boise.

"We'll let him alone for a little bit," laughed Johnny. "We've started him to thinking about it, and I have that appointment with him at eight-thirty to-morrow morning. Boise does a day's work before lunch."

Later, in the bustle of preparing for dinner, Boise sat down by Constance.

"Are you still in favor of the Sage City and Salt Pool route for our new cut-off?" he asked with a smile as he inspected her delicately flushed cheeks and her bright eyes and her shining wavy hair.

"Really, I don't know very much about it," she modestly confessed, "but I should think that an all-level route would be much the best."

At the pier that night at twelve-thirty the party, on account of the lateness of the hour, very hurriedly dispersed. Johnny and Loring secured a taxi and, with Polly and Constance, headed for Polly's house where Constance had decided to spend the night.

As they crossed Seventh Avenue Johnny excitedly tapped on the gla.s.s in front of him and poking his head out through the other forward window, gave a sharp direction. The driver, a k.n.o.bby-jawed and hairy-browed individual, turned and tore down toward the big new terminal station as fast as he could go.

"Gresham," explained Johnny briefly, peering keenly ahead.

"Well, what about him?" inquired Loring.

"He's jumping the town. I don't trust my detectives."

"Have you secured some proof?" eagerly inquired Loring.

"No, only evidence," laughed Johnny at his lawyer, and for the rest of that brief ride neither the breathless girls nor the concentrated men said anything. They only held tensely forward and helped hurry.

There were three taxis preceding them in the congested line which turned in at the terminal station, and as the vehicles began to slow down Johnny stood on the step.

"If I get in a mix-up you keep this taxi right round where it'll be handy," he directed, and ran ahead just as Gresham, as fastidious as ever, emerged at the entrance to the ticket lobby.

Gresham allowed a porter to take all of his hand luggage, with the exception of one small black bag which he carefully carried himself.

"I guess these are those," observed Johnny in a pleasant conversational tone of voice as he lifted the bag from Gresham's hand.

Gresham made a desperate grab for the bag, but Johnny gave him a shove with one strong forearm, opened the bag and, diving into it, felt a tight square bundle of papers near the bottom. Giving them one hasty glance he rushed back, closely followed by Gresham, to the taxi where his friends sat quivering with excitement.

"Hide these," he ordered. "Get out of here, quick!" he told the chauffeur. "Mr. Loring will tell you where to drive."

"They're hid all right," Polly a.s.sured him. "What are they?"

"Amalgamated Steel bonds representing Gresham's half of my million,"

rasped Johnny, throwing Gresham's weight off his arm. "Ask me the rest of it the next time we meet. Just now I have to see to getting this thief pinched."

"As your attorney I'll have to caution you, Johnny, that your action is entirely illegal," Loring confidentially stated.

"They're my bonds, bought with my money," a.s.serted Johnny.

"I know, but it has to be proved," argued Loring. "Your only way to get possession of them is through the courts. Your present action has no better legal status than highway robbery."

"I got the bonds, didn't I?" demanded Johnny. "Now you move. Here comes a copper, and if he gets those bonds for evidence I won't see them again for months."

A policeman appeared in the exact center of the perspective, followed by a faithful emissary of the Ember Detective Agency.

"The bonds are no good to you just now unless Gresham a.s.signs them,"

insisted Loring almost tearfully, and both Constance and Polly gave up in despair.

"That's right," agreed Johnny, glancing over his shoulder at the policeman and the indignant detective. Suddenly he pushed Gresham headlong into the midst of the party and jumped in after him. "Hold him, Loring!" he directed, and dismissed the stupefied Gresham from his mind.

With remarkable deftness he had extracted a single bill from his pocket and thrust it into the hand of the experienced chauffeur.

"Break the limit!" he tensely ordered.

"Where?" asked the chauffeur, whirling out of the line with a jerk.

"Any place," and the chauffeur, being a night worker and understanding his business, accepted that direction with grinning relish and left the depot policeman trying to remember the number of his machine.

As they went up the incline from the ticket-lobby door Johnny arranged the bewildered girls on the two little front seats, and wedged the cowed Gresham carefully in between himself and Loring on the back seat.

The chauffeur, knowing the only regular time-killing drive in the city, hit out for Central Park. Gresham was incapable of thought or action.

As they crossed Forty-second Street Johnny touched his driver on the shoulder, and that handy criminal came to an immediate halt at the curb. Johnny opened the door. Gresham moved. Loring quickly clutched him by the knee. The chauffeur looked back.

"Leave it to me," he suggested in most friendly tones. "You don't need to change taxis."

"I'd feel more like a real sport if I hired two," Johnny argued, studying his man intently.

"I've got two numbers and I'll switch 'em," offered the a.s.sistant brigand.

"I think the police must know you by name," commented Johnny, "but I'll take a chance," and giving Polly's address he climbed back.

"Shall we hide the bonds?" whispered Polly as she prepared to alight at the Parsons home.

"Certainly not," replied Johnny. "I have to get them signed," and he pressed the hand of Constance with proper warmth as he helped her out.