“Put your horse in the stable and meet us here in half an hour. It will be worth your while. I want you to guide us to the Lion’s Mouth.”
“Berry well, Busha. Ah’ll jes’ put up ole Whitey, he’s nigh tired out, an’ Ah’ll be right back.”
“Good; hurry. Now, then, Sam——”
“Where are you going?” demanded Sam, carried off his feet by the volcanic activity of the young Frenchman. “What are you going to do now?”
“Get about a mile of rope and then charter the fastest auto they’ve got in this town,” was the reply.
“Then you think——”
“I don’t think, I know, that in revenge for his activities against him, Jarrold has tried to wreak a hideous vengeance on Jack.”
“In the Lion’s Mouth?”
“I don’t know. I surmise so. But let’s waste no time here in speculation. Get two hundred feet of the best manila rope you can buy. In the mean time I’ll charter a car. Then we’ll pick up old Black Strap and drive at top speed for the Lion’s Mouth.”
“Heaven grant we won’t be too late!” exclaimed Sam, but the lively young aviator had darted off, leaving Sam dazed. Truly the climax had come quickly. Jack kidnapped, possibly drugged, and cast into a deep pit! Had it not been for Providence, they might never have heard of him again.