"I guess it was only this big root!" said Creighton, and laughed aloud in his relief. Then his mirth abruptly gave way to surprise. "Hello," he said. "Hello—hello—hello!"
He had been looking around too, and now he picked up a loose end of stout wire that was attached at one extremity to a sapling. There could be no question as to what it was doing there. Until Krech's shin had snapped it, it had been stretched taut across the trail a foot above the ground.
"Gee Joseph!" exclaimed the big man, staring at the simple apparatus of destruction. "Clever little hellion, ain't he?" He stood up, moved his arms and legs tentatively and gave himself a shake.
"All right?" asked Creighton quickly.
"Never felt better in my life. Little shaking-up like that—good for a man. Who was the ancient johnnie that used to bounce up from the earth a bit stronger for every time he hit it?"
"Antaeus," suggested the detective absently.
"Uh-huh. H. Antaeus Krech—that's me." He added with more appropriate seriousness, "What became of our little playmate?"
"Search me," replied Creighton, still thoughtful. "I'm trying to figure out what was back of all this. It was a prearranged trap, of course. He showed himself deliberately, invited us to chase him, then arranged this wire to insure his get-away. But—why?"
"I can give you a good guess, Peter, my boy," said Krech slowly. "I think I have inadvertently saved your life."
"Huh? What's that?"