“Don’t fire!” he exclaimed. “A friend of mine is out there—you might hit him. Are you the judge’s son?”
“Yes,” was the answer, “and I want to get this over with before the governor presents himself. He might get hurt. Are you game to follow those fellows?”
“Of course!”
“Come on, then!”
There was the flutter of a bath robe in the open window, then the space cleared for Clancy. He landed on the ground beside Pembroke.
“They’ve skipped,” said Pembroke. “Even your friend isn’t here! Which way do you think the scoundrels went?”
“I know—they’ve got a car waiting for them. This way!”
Clancy darted for the fence and cleared the iron pickets at a bound. Young Pembroke was tight at his heels.
“If they’ve got a car,” he panted, “they’re bound to get away from us.”
“I’ve fixed the car so they can’t use it.”