The Cubs must have gone nearly a mile when they noticed two black figures walking in the middle of the road, just ahead. Hugh jammed on his brakes and rang his bell loudly. The figures jumped out of the way, and as the bicycle flashed past them, the golden circle from its lamp lit them up. Unmistakably it was Black Bill and the stranger.
“That’s good,” panted Hugh over his shoulder; “there’s still four miles for them to walk to the cross-roads. I don’t suppose they’re walking more than four miles an hour, and we must be going about fourteen. We shall get there long before they do.”
And sure enough the church clock was striking twelve as the Cubs flashed through the little sleeping village and passed the cross-roads.
“I’m jolly glad there’s two of us,” said David. “I wouldn’t like to be on this job alone. It’s so beastly dark, and I hate all these plotting people. I wish I was at home in bed.”
“Don’t give in to yourself,” said Hugh. “Let’s stick it out. Once we’ve found the Tramp we shall be all right.”
They turned up the little lane that led to the farm. At the gate they got off the bike and propped it up against the fence. Then they crept across the yard to the barn where the tramp slept.
Hugh was carrying the bicycle lamp. Standing just inside the barn, he flashed it round to find the Mysterious Tramp. Yes, there he was, lying on a pile of straw.
Creeping up to him, David shook him gently.
“Hullo,” said the Tramp, opening his eyes, and then sitting up. “Who is it?”
“Us,” whispered David; “two of the Cubs.” Hugh put down the bicycle lamp, and the two boys squatted in its circle of yellow light.