“How much further have we to go?”
“I don’t know.”
“We’ve got to chase along until we reach camp,” put in Joe. “Hustle now, every minute may be precious.”
“I can’t hustle any more than I am hustling,” panted poor Jimmy. “Do you want me to drop down of heart failure or something like that?”
“Maybe we’d better go along and leave Jimmy behind,” suggested Joe, with a wink at Bob.
“Not much,” cried the stout youth, and after that did his best to keep up with the others.
Not a great while later they came in sight of camp, much to their relief.
Mr. Brandon was astonished to see them back so soon, but as briefly as possible Bob told him of what they had learned and showed him the code message.
“You fellows have done a clever bit of detective work, and with reasonable luck it ought to be possible to bag the whole gang to-night,” said Brandon. “I know where Hicks Bridge is. It’s about five miles this side of Barberton, and an ideal place for an ambuscade. The road runs between high banks just before it gets to the bridge, and some of the gang posted on those banks could command the road from either direction. But I’ll get in communication with the chief of police of Barberton, and we’ll see if we can’t catch the thieves in their own trap.”
“I suppose the two men you were expecting haven’t arrived yet, have they?” inquired Bob.