“One thing sure!” He brought his chair down with a bang. “We’ve got to get action, and get it quick!”
Seizing the evening paper he scanned its front page. GHOST GALLOPS AGAIN was sprawled across the front page. And below, RED ROVER STILL MISSING. POLICE HAVE NOTHING TO REPORT.
“Well—” Drew smiled grimly. “Hold your horses. We may report something yet.”
Again he read, in smaller type: “The public is aroused by this daring crime. A large purse is being raised as a reward for the return of the Red Rover. The Midway coach is game. He is drilling his team hard in the face of almost certain defeat.”
“Too bad!” Drew shook his head. “Probably his last great game. They say he is to retire at the close of this season. Everything was set for a glorious victory. And now this! The plans wrecked by a gang of outlaws who deserve nothing but to die horribly. And here we are doing our best, working night and day, following blind trails, getting nowhere. We—”
He broke short off as a fist banged the door and a voice demanded:
“Open up! Let me in!”
It was Johnny. As a bringer of good news he had outstripped Tom Howe.
“Drew! Drew!” he panted. “That’s the gun!”
“What gun is which gun?” Drew grinned in spite of himself.