“Only that he is at our headquarters with a broken arm, and he sent me here to wire his uncle the fact.”
Ralph was delighted. He could scarcely credit the glad news. He led Van up to the railroad president and the road detective with the words:
“Gentlemen, I am very happy to tell you that Mr. Trevor is in safe hands, and my friend here will explain. Van Sherwin, this is Mr. Grant, the president of the Great Northern.”
Van nodded in his crisp, off-hand way to Adair, whom he knew, and took off his cap to his dignified companion.
His story was to his auditors most remarkable and exciting, but to Van only the narration of a perfectly natural occurrence. Early that morning there had come into “headquarters,” as Van termed it, a young man in an almost exhausted condition. His attire was all torn with brambles and bushes and one arm was broken.
“He told us his name, and said that he had escaped from kidnappers. Mr. Gibson attended to 100 his arm, and sent me to Dover here to telegraph to you, sir,” explained Van to the railroad president.
Mr. Grant was so glad and excited he could not sit still.
“Take me to him at once!” he cried. “My dear lad, you have brought happy news to me.”
“I don’t know about going to see him,” said Van. “It is over twenty miles away in the woods.”
“Allow me to explain, Mr. Grant,” said Adair. “Between here and Wilmer is a wild, wooded stretch of land known as The Barrens.”