"Well, then, it is," said Derr, decisively. "How am I to go about it?"
"Just follow me. If you really mean business, I can take you straight to where the band is holding a meeting this very night."
"All right," answered the prospective candidate. "Lead the way!"
The two turned into a dirt lane beyond the meeting-house, Derr keeping close by the side of his guide, while the hoofbeats of the two horses suddenly grew muffled by the softer bed of the lane in exchange for the macadamized pike.
There was no moon to light the way, and the faint starlight that had made easily traceable the white, dust-covered surface of the highway was now absorbed and lost in the dull clay of the lane. Where the trees and bushes overhung the path a dense obscurity prevailed. Both man and beast were familiar with night riding along country byways, however, so the two travelers rode rapidly on, unmindful of the darkness or the twisting road.
A mile farther on they quitted the lane, passing through a gate into a fallow field adjoining, which they crossed, and finally came to the outer fringe of a dense thicket.
Here they halted, while Steve, placing his fingers to his lips in a certain manner, blew a low, peculiar whistle, like the call of some sombre night bird, which was answered later from somewhere amid the bushes. Close upon the answering call a dark form emerged from the shadowy copse near at hand, and a voice asked gruffly:
"Who goes there?"
"Friends."
"What are you seeking?"