"I can do this just as well alone," said Fred. "You take a squint at the tank and see if we have enough gas to take us on. Lester may have been nearly out when we grabbed the machine from him."

A groan from Teddy, a moment later, told him that he had hit on an unpleasant truth.

"Almost empty!" exclaimed Teddy. "There isn't enough to take us another mile. There's a hoodoo in it. We no sooner see those fellows than we lose them again."

There was consternation in the boys' eyes as they gazed blankly at each other.

Fred rose to his feet and looked about him. Half a mile ahead, he saw a church spire rising above the trees.

"There must be a town over there," he said. "I'll tell you what we'll do. You skip ahead and find some place where they sell gasoline. Get a couple of quarts and hustle back. This job will take me ten or fifteen minutes more, and as soon as I get it done, I'll come on to meet you. If the gas gives out before I get there, I'll trundle the machine along until we meet. Get a move on now, for every minute counts."

Teddy started off on a dog trot, and Fred once more bent over his work. Despite his air of confidence, he had very little hope of picking up the trail, once the vagrants had gotten out of sight. Still, they could make inquiries and might have luck. At the very worst they could do no more than fail, and they would have the consolation of knowing that they had not quit.

He worked desperately, and soon the inner tube was as good as ever. He tumbled the tools back into the box, mounted the machine, and as the road was good, once past the sandy stretch, he let it out, fearing, however, that at any moment it might go dry.

He had reached the outskirts of the village, when he saw Teddy hurrying toward him with a can in his hand. He greeted his brother with a shout. And it seemed to the boys that they had never heard sweeter music than the splashing of the gasoline as it went down into the tank.

"I've had one bit of luck, anyway!" exclaimed Teddy, once more in his normal high spirits. "I asked if they had seen the auto go through, and they showed me where it had turned off to the right. We'll get them yet."

"That's the way to talk!" responded his brother. "We'll follow the old advice and be like the postage stamp. We'll stick until we get there."

They took the road to the right that had been pointed out, and let the motorcycle out at full speed. They soon made up for lost time, and their hearts exulted when at last they saw before them the automobile they were looking for. They slowed down at once, keeping an easy distance in the rear.

On they went through several villages, until at last the automobile stopped at a low roadhouse on the outskirts of the town of Saxby. The men got out and went into the house.

Still without any definite plan, the boys brought the motorcycle to a stop at the same place.

There was a barroom in front, and a sign announced that soda and soft drinks were for sale.

They pulled their caps down over their faces, went in and ordered sarsaparilla. They took their seats at a small table in the rear and sipped it slowly, glancing carelessly from time to time at the two men who were sitting nearby with a whisky bottle between them.

And as they looked, the suspicion that these were the tramps they had seen in Sam Perkins' barn became a certainty. There was the tall man with the scar on his temple showing clearly; and the short, stout man with him was without doubt his former companion. They were dressed more decently than before, evidently as the result of their stealings, but there had been no improvement in their coarse and evil faces.

They seemed in no hurry, and it was a pretty safe guess that they would tarry where they were until they had emptied the bottle.

"You stay here," whispered Fred to Teddy, "and keep your eye on them. I'll take the bike and skip down to the main part of the town and get a constable."

"I'll be back in a minute, Ted," he said aloud, as he sauntered from the room.

He climbed into the saddle and in three minutes was in the heart of the town. A hurried inquiry led him to the office of the constable. He found him at his ease, swapping stories with three or four of his cronies.

But the indifference with which he greeted Fred's entrance gave place to eager interest as Fred told him of the theft at Oldtown and of the reward that had been offered.

"Sure, I'll go with you, Son," he said, rising to his feet. "And two or three of you fellows had better come along," he added to his friends. "Those fellows may put up a fight when they're tackled."

A moment more and an automobile carrying four men was speeding to the roadhouse, while Fred rode alongside.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that the other automobile was still standing in front. The birds had not yet flown.

Two of the constable's party stayed outside to intercept the men if they should attempt to escape, while he himself, with another, entered the room. He went straight up to the pair, who looked at him angrily.

"I want you," he said, at the same time exhibiting his badge.

As though moved by the same spring, the men jumped to their feet and rushed for the door. The constable collared the short one, but the tall man had nearly reached the door when Fred tripped him, and he went down with a crash. Before he could rise the rest were on him and in a moment both men were handcuffed.

They bundled them into the automobile and took them to the constable's office. Fred and Teddy accompanied them on the motorcycle, their hearts beating high with exultation.

A careful search of their pockets brought to light several pawntickets. The boys scanned them eagerly.

"Here it is!" cried Fred, as he noted the date on one of them. "It's for a watch, and it's dated three days after the robbery at Oldtown. And here's the number of the watch on it."

He drew from his vest pocket a slip of paper and compared the number.

"Sure as guns!" he exclaimed delightedly. "Here's the number, 61,284. The same one that's on the pawn ticket."

"Won't Uncle Aaron be tickled to death?" chortled Teddy. "Glory, hallelujah!"

"What are these, I wonder," asked the constable as he looked over a package of papers.

"Why don't you say we stole those, too?" snarled the tall prisoner.

"Well, didn't you?" asked the constable sarcastically.

"No, we didn't," was the sullen reply. "We found them in an open road near a bridge——"

"A bridge!" interrupted Teddy, pricking up his ears. "Let's see them."

They spread out the papers. They were greasy and dirty from long carrying, but the boys' hearts leaped as they saw on them the name of Aaron Rushton.

They looked at each other. Then they shouted.

"Hang out the flags!" cried Teddy. "Fire the cannon! Ring the bells! Say, Fred, is this our lucky day, or isn't it?"

"You bet your life!" gloated Fred. "What is the nearest way to the telegraph station?" he asked, turning to the constable.

The officer told him.

"Can't get the news home quick enough, eh?" he laughed good-naturedly. "Well, I don't wonder. And when you see your folks, tell 'em I said they're lucky to have such a pair of kids."

It was rather an excited, jumbled message that reached the Rushton home that night, but it made Mr. Rushton's eyes kindle with pride, while his wife's were wet with happy tears. Old Martha strutted about, glorying in the vindication of her "lambs," and Uncle Aaron so far forgot himself as to clap his brother on the shoulder and say:

"Fine boys, Mansfield, fine boys!"

Then, as though he had said too much, he added:

"I knew that Rally Hall would be the making of them."

After the telegram had been sent, the Rushton boys started back for Rally Hall. They had had the most strenuous kind of a day, but all their weariness was forgotten in the glorious ending that had been brought about.

"It's a long lane that has no turning," remarked Fred, as they rode along through the darkness. "Those fellows got away from us twice, but they couldn't do it again."

"It was the third time and out for them, all right," jubilated Teddy. "Say, Fred, can't you see the folks at home when they get that telegram? Perhaps they're reading it this blessed minute."

"I guess we've squared ourselves with Uncle Aaron," chuckled his brother.

"You mean I've squared myself," corrected Teddy. "He never had very much against you, except that you always stood up for me when I got into scrapes."

"He'll put it all up to Dr. Rally and the splendid discipline of the school," said Fred.

"I suppose so," assented Teddy. "But we don't care where the credit goes, as long as he gets back his watch and papers.

"By the way, Fred," he continued, as he became conscious of a feeling of emptiness. "Do you realize that we haven't had any supper?"

"Haven't thought a thing about it," laughed Fred. "The fact is; I've been too excited to think of eating. I'll bet that's the first time I ever forgot anything like that. But now that you speak of it, I certainly could punish a good supper."

"It'll be way past supper time when we get to the Hall," mused Teddy.

"Right you are," was the answer. "But we won't be long in getting to sleep, after a day like this, and when we wake up it will be time for breakfast."

But fate had willed that they should not go to bed hungry, for when at last they reached their dormitory, they found their mates indulging in a spread that Slim had furnished to celebrate the downing of Andy Shanks.

They greeted Fred and Teddy with a frenzy of enthusiasm and pushed them down in seats before the eatables. A volley of questions was hurled at them, but Mel assumed command.

"Not a word," he said, "until we've filled these pilgrims up to the brim."

"But think how long that'll take," joked Billy. "I've seen these fellows eat before."

"Mel," said Fred, as he pitched in like a hungry wolf, ably seconded by Teddy, "I always thought you were a good friend of mine, but now I know it. You've saved my life."

They ate till they could eat no more. Then, to the eager crowd around them, the Rushton boys went over all the events of that memorable day. Their chums listened breathlessly as they told of the exciting pursuit of the tramps and their rounding up in the road house. And when they had finished, there was a tumult of applause and congratulation.

"Great stuff, old scouts!" was the way Melvin summed up the general feeling. "You've both done yourselves proud this day."

"Of course I'm glad you got back those things for your uncle," said Slim, "but the thing that tickles me to death is the way you polished off Andy Shanks. I haven't enjoyed anything so much since I've been at Rally Hall. Whatever happens now, I feel that I haven't lived in vain."

"I guess we all feel the same way," acquiesced Billy. "Andy has had that coming to him for a long time. Mel trimmed him once, but that was a year ago, and he's been aching for another licking ever since."

"Well, he got it all right," declared Lester, "and it was a most artistic job."

"What gets me is how he ever had the nerve to come back here, after he'd been bundled out in disgrace," wondered Tom.

"Oh, I don't know," grinned Slim. "You know they say every criminal is drawn back to the scene of his crimes."

"If he has that feeling again, I don't think he will yield to it," laughed Lester. "I guess we've seen the last of Andy Shanks."

It was late when at last they got to bed and the Rushton boys had never slept more soundly than they did that night.

And when the boys went home a little later they had the warmest kind of greeting. Nothing was too good for them. Teddy saw his advantage, and the youth struck while the iron was hot.

"You are going to let us go with Bill Garwood to his ranch, aren't you, Mother?" he asked coaxingly.

"I guess I'll have to," smiled his mother, while Mr. Rushton nodded assent.

"Sure!" broke in Uncle Aaron, "and what's more I'll buy the railroad tickets."

And at this the boys almost fainted.

"Say," asked Teddy, when they were alone, "won't we have a bully time with Bill on the ranch?"

"We most certainly will," agreed Fred with emphasis.

And what glorious times they had in that wild western country, with its wide sweep of plain and forest, its danger and its mystery, its bucking bronchos and reckless cowboys will be told in our next volume, to be entitled: "The Rushton Boys in the Saddle; or, The Ghost of the Plains."

"And the cowboys," exulted Teddy. "Whoopee!"

"Riding the mustangs and watching the round-ups," added Fred.

"And greasers and rustlers and Indians and maybe some shooting," said Teddy, hopefully.

"S-sh," warned his brother, "If mother hears any talk of shooting, it's all off."

"I don't mean men," explained Teddy, "but bears or panthers or buffaloes——"

"Nothing doing with buffaloes," laughed Fred. "They've all been wiped out long ago."

"Well, anyway," Teddy wound up, his eyes shining, "we're going to have the most exciting time of our lives."

THE END