Leslie; I'll do anything in the world for
you if you'll only help me out now."

"And if I won't?" asked Leslie calmly, deliberately, as if she were
really weighing the question.

"Well, if you won't," put in the person called Fred Hicks, "why, Bart
and I will just fix you up perfectly harmlessly in the back seat
there, where you can't do any damage"--and he put his hand in his
pocket, and brought out the end of an ugly-looking rope--"and then
we'll take charge of this expedition and go on our way. You can take
it or leave it as you please. Shut up there, Myrt; we haven't any more
time to waste. We're behind schedule now."

Leslie's mouth shut in a pretty little tight line, and her eyes got
like two blue sparks, but her voice was cool and steady.

"Well, I _won't_!" she said tensely; and with a sudden motion she
grabbed the switch-key and, springing to her feet, flung it far out
across the road, across a little scuttled canoe that lay at the bank,
and plunk into the water, before the other occupants of the car could
realize what she was doing.

Fred Hicks saw just an instant too late, and sprang for her arm to
stop it, then arose in his seat with curses on his lips, watching the
exact location of the splash and calling to his mate to go out and
fish for it.

Leslie sank back in her seat, tense and white, and both young men
sprang out and rushed to the shore of the little lake, leaving a
stream of unspeakable language behind them. Myrtle began to berate her
friend.

"You little _fool_!" she said. "You think you've stopped us, don't
you? But you'll suffer for this! If you make us late, I'll see that
you don't get back to your blessed home for a whole week; and, when
you do, you won't have such a pretty reputation to go on as you have
now! It won't do a bit of good, either, for those two men can find
that switch-key; or, if they can't, Fred knows how to start a car
without one. You've only made a lot of trouble for yourself, and
that's all the good it will do you. You thought you were smart, but
you're nothing but an ignorant little kid!"

But the ignorant little kid was not listening. With trembling fingers
she was pulling off the wrappings from a small package, and suddenly a
warning whir cut short Myrtle's harangue. She lurched forward, and
tried to pull Leslie's hands away from the wheel.

"Bart! Come quick! She's got another! Hurry, boys!"

CHAPTER XXII

The two young men had shoved the old cano