The villain calculated that the detectives would be buried out of sight long before a.s.sistance could reach them.

But the Bradys were cheered up wonderfully.

They kept on shouting, and the track-walker finally found them by being guided by the tones of their voices.

Only their heads stuck above the water.

He stared at the pair in astonishment a moment, and cried:

"What in thunder are you doing in there?"

"Buried in quick-sand!" gasped Harry. "Help us--quick!"

The old fellow was startled and rushed in among the trees.

For a minute the detectives thought he deserted them. But he soon reappeared with a sapling he had cut with his pocket-knife.

Standing on the embankment, he reached out the end to Old King Brady, who lifted his hands above the water and grasped it.

"Pull!" gasped the detective.

The track-walker used all his strength, for the sand clung to the old detective tenaciously, and dragged him up.

Around him the sand stirred up and the water bubbled and eddied as it rushed into the opening left by his body.

After a fearful struggle Old King Brady was dragged free of the sand, and drawn to the sh.o.r.e, panting and drenched.

Harry had sunk to his chin.

It was only by keeping his head thrown back that he kept his mouth above water, and his two hands were raised.

Quick to act, and paying no heed to his own exhaustion, Old King Brady grasped the pole and thrust it out to the boy.

Half gone, Harry took hold.

Between the old detective and the track-walker he was hauled up and pulled ash.o.r.e in a half-fainting condition. It was some time ere he revived.

But when his faculties returned, and the old track-walker had been thanked, the boy told their benefactor all that had happened.

He was surprised and indignant.

"That man Mason is a devil!" he exclaimed.

"We'll make short work of him for this terrible deed," said Harry.

"And I wish I could help you."

Shortly afterward the track-walker departed to resume his lonely tramp along the road-bed with a sledge over his shoulder to replace any spike or frogs dislodged by the pa.s.sing cars.

Left alone, the Bradys glanced at each other, and Harry remarked softly:

"Our time hasn't come to perish yet, partner."

"I felt sure of that, even before that man came to our rescue."

"We've found out now what a desperate man Mason is."

"And we'll have to resort to drastic measures to get the best of him."

"How do you feel?"

"In a good humor to fight."

"Then let's go up to the house and tackle him."

"He will be surprised to see us alive."

They were thoroughly rested now, and, having examined their pistols and found them in working order, they proceeded up the hill.

Within a short time they reached the house, and rang the front door bell for admittance.

George Scott, the big negro whom they had met at the gate when they were there before, opened the door and grinned at them.

"h.e.l.lo, George!" said Harry. "How are you?"

"Right smart, sah, thank you," chuckled the darky.

"Is Mr. Mason in?"

"Good Lawdy, no," replied the colored man. "An' de blame rascal better not come in dis yere house, or I'll blow de roof ob his head off, sho's yo's bo'n. I done know all he's been a-doin', I does."

"Why, who gave you the news?" asked Harry, in surprise.

"Missy Lizzie, sah. She arrive heah ter-day, bress her heart, an' she seen yo' a-comin', an' done tell me fo' ter ask yo' right inter de parlor. She be downstairs in a moment, Ma.s.sa Brady. Come right in, gemmen, come right in."

And he led the detectives into the parlor, flung open the blinds, and left the room.

In a few moments the door opened and Lizzie Dalton stepped into the room and approached them, with a smile and extended hand.

CHAPTER XIII.

NICK WIFFLES EXPLAINS A MYSTERY.

"So you found Ronald Mason prowling around the swamp, after you traced Sim Johnson down here from New York?" asked the broker's daughter, after the first salutations were over, and all were seated.