From somewhere deep in the woods two shots rang out in rapid succession. The cameramen listened tensely. There were no other shots, but in a few minutes Major Hartgrove and his posse came into the clearing with Rascomb manacled to one of the men.
“They got him!” Doyle exclaimed jubilantly.
Flash trained his camera on the group, and despite his excitement, managed to hold it steady as the film ran through.
Rascomb was grim but smiling as he was led to the waiting automobile. His gaze fastened upon Flash.
“You win,” he said grudgingly. “I didn’t figure you would have the courage to crash my plane. But then, you live a charmed life!”
Major Hartgrove turned to Flash and grasped his hand.
“We saw the crash as we came down the road,” he explained. “It was a foolhardy thing to do, but magnificent! If you hadn’t stopped Povy, he would have escaped to Mexico.”
“I threw you off the track for a time, Major,” the prisoner said pleasantly. “It was this fresh kid who tossed a monkey wrench into plans I’ve been building up for years.”
“You made your final mistake when you had Doyle and me waylaid tonight,” said Flash. “I was tired of trying to convince anyone you were Povy. If you had allowed us to go on to Clinton, I probably never would have bothered you again.”
“That was one of my mistakes,” the man agreed. “Another was inviting you to my lodge.”