“I should think they would have been seen by some one driving along the road,” went on Larry. “Either they are very bold, or else they are taking foolish chances, trying to hold a boy captive in such an open place as that.”
“Well, it’s open enough, I’ll allow,” admitted the reporter’s companion, “but then that road ain’t much traveled. It’s an old one, but I don’t s’pose any one drives on it once a month. Some folks use it for a short cut, but usually it’s so cut up, and spoiled by the rain, that it’s better to go the long way around. You can save time.
“So that’s why no one but me seen the boy bein’ chased, and that was only by accident. It’s dreadful lonely down in that hollow, and hardly any one ever goes near the house. It couldn’t be a better place for them kidnappin’ tramps. But what had we best do? I wonder who that poor little boy is, anyhow?”
“I think I know!” said Larry.
“You don’t say! Know him! Well, for land sakes! How comes that?”
“I think he is the stolen boy for whom I’ve been looking a long time,” went on the young reporter. “Most unexpectedly I have stumbled on his place of captivity. It’s lucky I met you,” and he proceeded to tell of the kidnapping of Lorenzo Androletti. The farmer listened, full of wonder.
“Say, that’s a case!” he exclaimed when Larry had finished. “And they took him right out of the theater when his maw was singin’! Say, them kidnappers is bold fellers, all right! I hope they go to jail for life.”
“So do I, but I hope we get them first, and gain possession of the boy,” spoke Larry. “Now, we’ve got to make some plan to raid the house, and surround it so they can’t get away.”
“Now you’re talkin’!” exclaimed Mr. Meldron. “Maybe we’d better have brought some police back with us.”
“No; I think we shall do very well with what help we can get around here,” replied Larry. “Is there a telephone anywhere near?”