“I don’t know,” breathed Ned. “I didn’t see it till it moved! Hist! Lie low! It’s coming this way!”
The black shape, scarcely more than a blotch against the dark background of the house wall, seemed to creep along the ground till the corner was reached. Here it slowly straightened to the form of a man and, after a moment’s hesitation, stepped out upon the moonlit strip of sand which it crossed with noiseless tread. Ten feet from the boys’ hiding-place it stopped as if to listen.
“NED BROUGHT HIM DOWN WITH A HARD DIVING TACKLE”
“Now!” yelled Ned, and springing to his feet, he dashed straight at the figure which turned in its tracks and fled with desperate speed back across the open space toward the house.
“Help! Help! Head him off!” shouted Dick, and at the sound of his cry, Rogers and Beals leaped from their places.
But the flying figure never got past the end of the house. Ned Blake, running like an antelope, overtook and brought it down with a hard diving tackle. A furious struggle ensued, for the “ghost” proved to be a decidedly tough customer in a rough and tumble fight. Over and over rolled the combatants, Ned striving desperately to retain his leg hold, while Dick, who had been but a leap behind his leader’s dash, used every ounce of his own supple strength in a frantic effort to pinion the threshing arms. Charlie Rogers, flashing into view around the corner of the house, brought timely reinforcement, and Tommy Beals, puffing painfully from his own hard run, signalized his somewhat late arrival and at the same time ended the battle by catapulting his ample weight full upon the mid-section of the prostrate “ghost,” from whose body the breath was expelled in a loud “Hah!”
Aroused by the shouts of combat, Dave Wilbur rushed to the scene and assisted the victors to carry their semi-conscious prisoner to the house. A candle was quickly brought and as its light shone upon the distorted features the boys fell back with a cry of amazement. It was the face of Slugger Slade.
“Holy cat!” yelped Charlie Rogers. “What the blazes is he doing here?”
“Just this minute he’s trying to recover his breath that Fatty knocked out of him,” replied Ned. “We’d better make sure of him while we have the chance,” and slipping off his belt, Ned confined the slugger’s arms behind his back. Dick hastened to bind the ankles in like manner, and when this had been done, the prisoner was hoisted to a chair.