al of time had been reduced by the
stop made by the first machine, a mile or so out of town, when the
abductor removed the blanket from Janet Hosmer's head to announce his
evil scheme. From the main road leading to Bowenville Weir saw the
car's trail turn aside into a mesa track pointing obliquely for Terry
Creek canyon; and he suspected that Sorenson was making a long drive
northward, skirting the mountain range and working away from the
railroad-tapped region.

Once he thought he caught a flash of light far ahead of him, but knew
this was an illusion. Through this rainy darkness no car's beam,
however powerful, would show half a mile. The mist beat against his
face in a steady stream as he rushed forward in the night, his eyes
immovable on the wet twin tire-marks stamped on the road, his iron
grip on the wheel, his ears filled with the steady hum of the engine.
If Sorenson had driven fast, Steele Weir drove faster.

At Terry Creek he plunged down the bank, across the water and up on
the other side without a change of gears, rocking and lurching. Once
on the smooth trail again the car seemed to stretch itself like a
greyhound for the race northward. But on a sudden he brought the
automobile to an abrupt halt. The surface of the road was undisturbed;
nothing had passed here.

Swinging back again on the way he had come, Weir recrossed the creek
and slowly retraced his course. Then with an exclamation of
satisfaction he picked up the track where it turned up the canyon
trail. But why was the man going to the Johnson ranch? Mystified by
this baffling procedure on Sorenson's part, he nevertheless headed up
the stream with no lessening of his purpose to overtake the other.

At the ranch house, whose kitchen window was lighted, he stopped and
leaped out. Johnson and Mary both answered his thumping knock.

"Is Janet Hosmer here?" he questioned, while his eyes darted about the
kitchen. Then he made his own reply, "I see she's not. Ed Sorenson
kidnapped her to-night and drove to this canyon. Did you hear a car?"

Mary faced her father.

"You remember I thought I heard one!" she cried. "But the sound was so
low I wasn't sure, and when I went to the window I saw nothing. I
didn't hear it again. Father said it was just my imagination."

"Where does this road lead?"

"Up into the timber and to a 'park.' Used to be an old wood road.
Sheepmen sometimes use it to take their wagons up above; sometimes
cattle outfits too while