"You may trust old Jennie," exclaimed the blind woman. "Be ye not the friends of young Master Stephen?"

The two girls followed without a word.

Almost in sight of the fighters, she paused by the stump of a hollow tree which, when rolled away by her strong arm, disclosed a sort of trapdoor underneath. Lifting the door, crudely constructed with strips of wood, the bark still on, the girls saw a small underground chamber dug out like a cellar. The walls were sh.o.r.ed up with split trees which also did duty as cross beams. There was a rough, hand-made ladder at the opening, and at one side a shelf on which was neatly folded-could they believe their eyes-the suit of green velveteen. Old Jennie, who seemed to be peering down into the cavity with her sightless blue eyes, shook Bab's arm impatiently.

"Get the firearms," she whispered. "They be on the shelf. I felt them there last time."

Sure enough, lying in the shadow at the far end of the shelf the girls made out two pistols gleaming ominously in the dark. Without a word, Bab bounded down the ladder, and seizing the pistols was up again almost as quickly.

"Ruth," she said, "have you forgotten our rifle practice in the Berkshires?"

"No," replied her friend. "All you have to do is to c.o.c.k it and pull the trigger, isn't it?"

"That's right," answered Bab. "Take this one and come on. They are both loaded, I see. Don't fire unless I tell you, and be careful where you aim. You had better point up so as not to hit anybody. Jennie, wait for us over here. I believe you have saved us all."

So saying, Bab ran, followed by Ruth, to the scene of the battle. And it was indeed a battle! Jimmie was lying insensible on the ground, while his opponent had joined in the fight against Stephen, who was rapidly losing strength. Alfred and his tramp were still rolling over and over, locked in each other's arms.

A few feet away from the fighters Bab fired her pistol in the air. The explosion stopped the fight. So intent had the combatants been that they had forgotten time and place. At the report of the pistol they came to themselves almost with a jump. Everybody, except poor, unconscious Jimmie, paused breathless, perspiration pouring from their faces. Alfred had got the better of his opponent and his hands gripped the man's throat. Bab, followed by Ruth, dashed up, and both girls pointed their pistols at the two tramps who were engaging Stephen.

"Shall we shoot them, Stephen?" asked Bab as calmly as if nothing had happened.

"Throw up your hands," cried Stephen to the tramps; which they proceeded to do in prompt order. "Now, give me your pistol, Ruth; give yours to Alfred, Bab."

In the meantime, Alfred had risen, hardly recognizable in a coating of dust and blood, ordering his man to lie quiet or be killed.

"Suppose we herd them together, Stephen," he suggested, "and drive them up to the hall like the cattle they are?"

"Just what I was thinking," replied Stephen, "only what about Jimmie?"

"The girls will see to him," answered Alfred.

"No, no," retorted Stephen. "We can't leave the girls here alone with him in that condition, not after this. There may be more tramps lurking around, for all we know."

Just then an exclamation from Ruth, who was kneeling beside the prostrate Jimmie, caused the two boys to turn their heads involuntarily, and in that moment, the two men who were standing with their arms up at the point of Stephen's pistol, ran for the underbrush, Stephen shot and missed his aim. He shot again and hit the small fellow in the leg, having aimed low; not wishing to kill even in self-defense. But the tramps had plunged into the woods, and were out of sight in an instant.

"Better not go after them, Stephen," called Alfred. "We've got one here and we may catch the others later. I wish we had a rope to tie this fellow's hands with."

"Try this," suggested Ruth, and she calmly tore the muslin ruffle off her petticoat and handed the strip to Alfred, who bound the man's hands behind his back and ordered him to sit still until he was wanted.

Meanwhile, the two girls had turned their attention to Jimmie, who showed no signs of returning consciousness, but lay battered and bleeding, a sad sight in comparison to the joyous Jimmie of half an hour before. Blind Jennie had come from her hiding place behind a tree, and was kneeling beside the wounded boy. Feeling the abrasions on his face with her sensitive fingers, she shuddered.

"He should have water," she whispered. "There is a brook not far from here. I will show you," and she turned her sightless eyes in the direction of Stephen, who was guarding the remaining tramp.

"Ruth, you and Alfred take our three hats and go with Jennie for the water. Alfred, take the pistol with you in case of another attack. Bab, you stay and look after Jimmie, please."

Ruth and Alfred followed after old Jennie, while Bab, kneeling beside Jimmie, began chafing his wrists. Not a sound broke the stillness.

Stephen, on a log, had his pistol c.o.c.ked and pointed straight at the tramp who was huddled in a heap on the ground, gazing sullenly into the barrel of the pistol. Bab had not looked around for some time, so intent was she on her efforts to bring some life back into poor Jimmie. But feeling a sudden, unaccountable loneliness, she called:

"Stephen, aren't you curious to know where we found the pistols?"

There was no answer, and, looking over her shoulder, Bab was horrified to see Stephen lying p.r.o.ne on the ground in a dead faint, the pistol still grasped tightly in his hand, while the tramp had evidently lost no time in joining his pals.

Leaving Jimmie, Bab rushed to Stephen. First releasing the pistol from his hand, she laid it on a stump. Then she began rubbing his wrists and temples.

"Poor old Stephen!" she murmured. "You were hurt all the time and never said a word."

Slowly he opened his eyes and looked at Bab in a sort of shamefaced way.

"I suppose the tramp got away?" he asked.

"Who cares," replied his friend, "if you aren't hurt?"

"Oh, I'm not," he answered. "I was only winded. That big fellow gave me a blow, just as you shot the pistol off, that nearly did for me. But I thought I could keep up until the others came back. I knew I couldn't go for the water. How did you get the pistols?"

By the time Bab had finished her story the others had come up with the water.

"It's just as well the tramp has gone," said Alfred, when he had heard what had happened. "I don't believe we could have managed him and Jimmie, too."

They bathed Jimmie's face and wrists with the cold spring water, and it was a battered and disconsolate young man who finally opened his one good eye on the company.

"I think," said Stephen, "we had better put these pistols back where they were. If they are gone, the robber will take alarm and we'll never catch him. I don't think we'll be attacked by those tramps any more to-day. They'll never imagine we have left the pistols."

The others agreed, and the pistols were left on the shelf by Bab, who remembered exactly where they had been when she found them. All the others, even Jimmie, peered curiously down into the underground room.

"I don't think it's been very long dug," observed Alfred. "There is so much fresh earth around the door. The fellow carted most of it away, I suppose, and put leaves and sticks over what was left. But there is plenty of evidence of fresh earth, just the same."

"So there is," replied Stephen. "Jennie, you did a good day's work when you found that hole in the ground. You may have saved our lives, for all we can tell."

But the old woman only muttered, as she punched the leaves with her staff. The somewhat dilapidated picnic party resumed its homeward journey, Jimmie supported by his two friends and stopping often to rest, while the two girls followed, keeping a sharp lookout on both sides. Old Jennie brought up the rear.

CHAPTER XVII-ZERLINA

When they reached Ten Eyck Hall, it was with relief that the young people learned that the others had gone motoring for the afternoon, and would probably not be back until dinner time. Stephen put Jimmie under the care of the housekeeper, who bound up his wounds in absorbent cotton saturated with witch hazel. The girls disappeared into their own room, but not before Bab had cautioned Stephen to bring them word about Jose.

The information came in the form of a few scribbled lines on the tea tray.

"John tells me," the note ran, "that Jose was off on his motor cycle until lunch time. S."

The two girls read the note excitedly.

"Bab, dear," cried Ruth, "I simply can't believe it of that nice boy, can you?"

"I don't want to believe it," replied Bab, "even though appearances are against him."

"But who could the joker in the woods have been, if not Jose?" continued Ruth. "And, come to think of it, he might have been the highwayman, too.