The boy was not dead, however, and soon pulled himself together sufficiently to tell the story more succinctly than the terror-stricken ghillie had done. They had been attacked by two masked men. Peggy had fainted, while he himself, after being knocked down, was roped and made fast, and the villains fled west and away with the insensible form of his companion rolled in a shepherd tartan plaid.
“But I am sure, father,” added the brave and sturdy lad, “we can find them with Ralph yonder. Had we not forgotten to take him with us, it would have been all right.”
“Well, boy, you had better run back now and wait. Gourmand and I with the hound will follow up the trail, and Heaven help them when we lay hands on them.”
“Go back, daddie? Me go back and dear Peggie in danger? I’m going with you, father, and you may need me. No going back for Johnnie!”
“So be it, lad, but I fear you are not strong enough after what you have come through.”
“I can only fail, father, then I can rest.”
“See, cap’n, what is this?” said Gourmand, holding up something black.
“Why, I declare,” said Fitzroy, “it is a crape mask, wires and all complete. One of the scoundrels must have dropped it. This will come in handy, however.”
The showman was a man of quick thoughts, and actions that just as quickly followed. And now was the time for both. He had been much in for foreign lands, especially in America, and travel in that country sharpens one’s wits.
His right hand passed round towards his pistol-pocket as if by instinct. Yes, it was there, that little friend the revolver, which had saved his life ere now. He had money also, therefore was he prepared to go immediately on the war-path.