The laugh was plainly on Jarvis, and he got it from everyone.
“All the same,” he maintained stoutly, “that don’t prove that Pant ain’t got a cat’s eye, an’ you all know ’e ’as or ’e’s a devil. ’E can see in the dark.”
There was no disputing this point, and there the argument dropped.
Two months later, having got the haven of refuge well established and turned over to the management of the Red Cross, Johnny and Mazie were on a Pacific liner bound for America. Johnny might return at some future time to the Seven Mines, but for the present he had had quite enough of Russia.
The gang were all on board. With Dave went two persons—the beautiful young exiled Russian girl and her mother.
As the steamer lost the last glimpse of land, Johnny drew from his pocket a wireless message he had received that morning. It read:
“Come over. Get in on something good. Secret Service and a three-ring circus, Pant.”
“Secret Service and a three-ring circus,” repeated Johnny. “Sounds pretty good. Worth looking up. Pant’s a queer one. Bet he’s found something different and mysterious. I’ll bet on that.”
He had. But this story must be told in our next volume.