swiftly and fiercely with himself on his course of
action. Tommy was there; a false step and Tommy might be hurt. He
might even be killed. No consideration of personal safety would
have prevented Jimmy from taking immediate action. But--looming
large in his mind--was a picture of the little boy and his grieving
mother on the other side of the lake.

To Harry's vast disappointment, his hero, James Hale, the star
reporter, turned and retraced his steps, Harry perforce following
him. Harry had looked up at his hero doubtfully. He had been
certain in his mind that they would return home triumphant,
bearing the kidnapped boy. Gee, he could have done it himself,
almost. But his hero turned tail. Feet of clay! Harry did not know
the phrase, but all his thoughts expressed it very well.

The trip back was made in silence. The sun, a red, brilliant ball
of fire was in their eyes as they retraced their steps through the
woods. Still in silence, Harry started the boat, and pushed to its
capacity of speed, the fast sea sled made short work of the five
miles separating them from their camp.

Here Jimmy found that there was no need for silence. All the
household was awake. Indeed, Norah, in her anxiety had not slept
at all, and she said that she had heard Jimmy leave with the boy.

Matthews was restlessly pacing the short stretch of beach when the
boat tied up to the wharf. Norah and Professor Brierly joined
Matthews as Jimmy and Harry Stoy got out of their boat.

Harry burst out:

"Gee, Mr. Matthews, we found Tommy. We would have brought him home
but Mr. Hale thought--he thought we'd better come back for help."

Three wide-eyed persons, each reflecting his emotions in his own
way stared at the youth; from the youth to Jimmy. Jimmy with tight
lips, explained.

"Oh, Jack, Jack, Professor," panted Norah. "Let us go, let us--"
Jack did not hear. He was racing toward the shack. He returned
ready for the trip, a rifle in his hand.

Professor Brierly suggested:

"The mounted police--"

"No!" Matthews shook his head emphatically. "We won't need the
mounted police or any help. There's only one man."

"I shall go with you," announced Professor Brierly.

"No, Professor. We must make speed. We'll take both sea sleds, but
then there's a long tramp."

"But you do not understand, John. This man's name is Brown. It is
Amos Brown, the man we are looking for. I traced him up to Canada.
It was only a question of a day or two before