othest crook I ever come across in the racin' game was an
Englishman," Dorgan admitted generously.

Chetwood laughed at this ambiguous testimonial, and Angus liked him the
better for it. Leaving Dorgan and Rennie to look after the horse, they
took their townward way. The darkness seemed more intense. They stumbled
on the deeply-rutted road.

"We should have borrowed a lantern," Chetwood observed. "The bally trees
make it black as the devil. I think--Look out, Mackay! 'Ware foot-pads!"

As he spoke a dry stick cracked sharply. Angus whirled to his right.
Three black figures were almost on top of them. He had no time to dodge
or brace himself. An arm swung around his neck, and he got his chin down
just in time. He grasped the arm, tore it down across his shoulder, and
would no doubt have broken it with the next wrench; but just then
something descended on his head, and he went down unconscious in the
dust of the trail.

He came back to the world of affairs with a ripple of artistic English
swearing in his ears, and sat up.

"That you, Chetwood?" he asked.

"Right-o, old chap!" Chetwood replied, in tones of relief. "You've been
in dreamland so long I was afraid the blighters had jolly well bashed in
your coco."

"What happened?" Angus demanded.

"Well, it's a bit thick to me," the Englishman admitted. "There were
four of the beggars, and three of them went for you while the other gave
me all I could do. They floored you, and then rapped me on the head
with a sandbag, I should say." He felt his cranium tenderly. "Laid us
both out side by side like a pair of blinking babes in the wood. I came
around first, and that's some minutes ago. You're sure you're quite all
right, old man?"

But struck by a sudden, horrible suspicion, Angus put his hand in his
pocket and gasped.

"What's the matter?"

"Matter enough," he replied. "They have rustled all the money I was
holding for Paul Sam and the French boys!"

"My aunt!" Chetwood ejaculated. "We must have been followed."

Angus nodded gloomily, cursing his own folly. Why had he been such a
fool to carry nearly twenty-four hundred dollars in his pocket? He had
fully intended to deposit it in the safe, but had neglected to do so.
Now it was gone, and naturally he was responsible.

"I guess we were," he agreed. "You didn't recognize any of them, of
course?"

"No. Too dark. I say, Mackay, this is beastly rotten luck."

"Worse than that for me. I'll have to make good."