“And I wonder how he became suspicious of Captain Cornell,” said Bob. “Well, no use speculating. You better get under way, if we are to keep double watch.”
With a nod of agreement, Mr. Hampton turned toward the taxicab, beckoning Frank to follow. But they were not destined to put their plan into execution, for at that moment, Jack halted his father and pointed up the street. All turned to gaze. A powerful motor car, with the top down and spilling over with men, was approaching at high speed. A comet’s tail of dust whirled and eddied behind it. And the driven motor gave off a droning roar that was music to their ears.
“Hurray,” cried Bob, exuberantly, “Captain Murray and his gang.”
He leaped into the middle of the street, waving his arms frantically, and the car slackened speed and rolled to a stop behind the taxi. A half dozen young men, looking fit for anything, leaped to the ground and crowded around Bob.
“Where is he?”
“Where’s the house?”
“Lead us to ’em.”
“Here, fellows, give him air,” said one, jovially, yet with the unmistakable ring of authority in his voice. Shoving aside one of the newcomers who blocked his way, he confronted Bob with out-stretched hand. “I’m Murray, and I guess you’re Bob Temple, aren’t you? Didn’t get the chance to meet you the other day when Cornell had you out at the field.”
Bob looked into keen blue eyes on a level with his own, set in a sunburned face that won his instant liking. Their hands gripped, fell apart. Each felt an instinctive regard for the other.
“All we know is what you gave us through the air,” laughed Captain Murray. “Shoot both barrels as quickly as you can, so we know how the land lies. Then we’ll go into action.”