What could be the cause of this sudden change on the part of Scott Randolph? Was it possible that he had relented and was voluntarily going back to release Holton? Had he come to a full realization of the awful thing he had done? Merriwell sincerely hoped so, but he did not relax his vigilance in the least. He meant to follow the other aëroplane to the bitter end, and his searchlight still shot its bright rays straight ahead as he strained his eyes to catch another glimpse of the shadowy craft.
Before long he saw the lights of Denver far in the distance, but on his right. At once he throttled down on the engine and swerved to the west a little. In returning, he had gone too far east. When he was finally headed in the right direction, he throttled the engine still further and turned the flashlight earthward.
In an instant he had his bearings and shut off all power. The propeller slowly ceased its revolutions, and the aëroplane, with horizontal rudder depressed a trifle, glided downward.
Randolph’s aëroplane was nowhere in sight, but the bright gleam of light from the door of the house, showed Merriwell that something out of the way had happened, and he resolved to waste no time, but drop down there. He landed in fair shape, but he had not calculated on the retained velocity of the monoplane, and the craft rushed forward on its light wheels, striking against the front of the house with a splintering crash which threw Dick headforemost out of his seat to the ground.
He was up in an instant. Running into the hall, he dashed up the stairs. The first person that met his eager gaze was Bert Holton, lying on a couch in the upper hall, gasping painfully for breath. Then, standing by the open door of the air-tight room, he saw Scott Randolph, his face pale, but seeming otherwise cool and collected.
“I’m very glad you’ve come, Merriwell,” he said quietly. “You will be able to look after Mr. Holton. He is somewhat in want of air just now, but will soon recover.”
He hesitated for an instant, still looking straight into Merriwell’s eyes.
“I think I have you to thank for saving me from myself,” he said slowly. “But for you I should have done something which would have made the remainder of my life a living hell.”
There was a puzzled look on Dick’s face.
“I don’t think I quite understand,” he said. “You came back of your own accord. What had I to do with it?”