"We have flashlights."
"Yes, and a nice mark they'd make for bullets!"
This was sufficiently reassuring. Evan showed himself. He saw an expensive runabout with two young fellows in it. They burst out simultaneously:
"What's the matter?"
"Oh, I had a fight with a crook in there," said Evan. "They have a hang-out in an old abandoned house."
"Do you want any help?"
"No thanks. I've got him tied up. But I wish you'd go for the police if you don't mind."
"Sure thing! The nearest station's in Tremont, five miles over bad roads. We'll bring 'em back in half an hour!"
In his excitement the young fellow threw his clutch in, and the big car leaped down the road before Evan could give him any further particulars.
On his way back Evan felt certain compunctions at the sight of Charley lying bound in the road. After all, Charley had been his friend for many a year. He wouldn't mind saving him from the consequences of his own folly if he could. That the police might not discover him when they came, Evan dragged him out of the road, and under a thick leafy bush to one side. Charley made imploring sounds through the gag. Evan continued along the rough track. He had the pocket flash to help him over the rough places now. In a quarter of a mile or more from the highway he came upon the dark mass of the old house rising against the night sky. It stood on a little rise in the midst of its clearing, which could scarcely be called a clearing now, for except in a small space immediately around the building the young trees were rising thickly.