hours later, and got off at Patacne, which is about
three miles west of here. It is not much of a job to gather up gossip in
a small burg, and, inside of ten minutes, I had extracted all I needed
from the station agent. It seems this outfit was the summer sensation out
here. We hoofed it for reasons of our own, and came around by way of the
lake shore, aiming to keep out of sight until after dark. That is how we
discovered that _Seminole_ boat hauled up on the beach, but with no yacht
in sight. One of the fellows with me said Hogan did a boat-sinking job
before and got away with it, and that is how I figured that maybe you
was at the bottom of Lake Michigan--see? Well, we crept up here through
the woods, but nothing happened. Didn't look as if the place had a soul
within a hundred miles of it--no smoke, no light; not a damn sound. We
laid out and waited, not sure what we were up against. Finally we jimmied
open the back door of this garage, just to find out whether those guys
had a car out here, or not. They had, but we no more than located it when
those two fellows came dragging you out of the back door of the house,
and flung you in here like a bag of old linen. We lay still, and let them
go back, but we hadn't any notion whether you was dead or alive--or
whether it was really you; so we crawled up to find out. That's the
story. Now what do you think we better do?"

West moved his arms in an effort to restore circulation.

"How many with you?"

"Four altogether--hard boiled, too--five with you. Is there any fight
left in you, old man?"

"I'll say there is; I'd certainly like to get in one clip at 'Red' before
the fracas is over."

"That sounds vicious. Now who is inside?"

"I saw five, and there may be others. If the crew of the _Seminole_ are
here also, that would make quite a bunch."

"I don't think they are, Captain. The station agent said several men
bought tickets to Chicago early this afternoon. It is the real gang we've
got cornered. Do you know just who they are?"

"Those I saw were Hobart, 'Red' Hogan, the girl, a big fellow they called
Mark who was on the yacht--"

"Mark Sennett; he's Hogan's side-kick, and tough as they make 'em."

"And a wiry little black-haired devil by the name of Dave."

"Hell, is he in this too? that must be 'Dago Dave.' That guy would cut
your throat for fifty dollars. Any others?"

"Those were all I saw. No doubt Hobart's wife is in the house somewhere,
guarding Natalie