“Then where are they?” asked the other trooper, fixing his eyes on the red-stained handkerchiefs.
“Some we lost, and some we threw away,” said Jack.
“Give me those handkerchiefs,” ordered the red-haired trooper, hopping nimbly out of the side car.
In speechless astonishment the hikers handed the crumpled rags to the man, who took them to the driver of the motorcycle, and both troopers examined them carefully.
“Blood, without a doubt,” stated the auburn-haired man. “Guess we’ve made our catch. They certainly answer to the description of Crack Mayne and his pal, Angel. You’re under arrest,” he continued, turning toward the couple.
“What utter nonsense!” exploded Jack angrily, but Patricia laid her hand on his arm.
“We got those stains from flower stems,” she stated calmly.
“You’ll have to show us.”
“We can’t, now.”
“Why not?”