“Have found a clue to Ruth and am on her trail. Am safe. Tell Mr. Everett everything is coming out O. K. What news have you?”
From the other end came this startling, to Garry, news:
“Simmons arrested this morning, and——”
Then all became silent. Only an indistinct buzzing came into the receivers. He worked his tuning coil back and forth, but brought no results. Then he tried switching the “cat’s whisker” to another spot on the cup of silicon, and found that this, too, was futile.
Something had evidently gone wrong with his apparatus. So after a few minutes more of vain attempt to establish connection again, he gave it up as a bad job.
However, the vital thing had been accomplished. He had informed his chums that he was safe, thereby freeing their minds from worry, and he knew that they were on the job at their end. Also his message would prove of great cheer to Ruth’s grandfather and Aunt Abbie.
He could not, of course, understand what his friends had meant by Simmons being arrested. Simmons was the postal inspector, and should be making arrests, rather than be subject to seizure himself.
There was no use, though, in racking his head to try and puzzle out the situation. There was still the important part of his work ahead of him.
He felt hungry and decided to make a hasty meal before going any further. He produced from his supplies enough stuff for a cold lunch, and was wondering if it would be worth while to search for a few minutes for a spring.
Garry figured that five minutes could make no great difference, and looking around for moist ground that would denote the proximity of a spring, advanced a short distance into the woods. He had not gone far when he heard the murmur of water, and pushing ahead, came to a fair-sized brook.