Rushton boys upon whose shoulders rested so much of responsibility for
the fate of the game.

As luck would have it, they were surrounded on every side by the Mount
Vernon boys, many of whom were accompanied by pretty girls who had come
to see the downfall of the invaders. Some of them knew very little of
the game, but that did not dampen their enthusiasm, and they clapped
their hands and waved their flags whenever that seemed the right thing
to do.

One of them was seated right alongside of Lester, and he and Bill could
not help hearing her conversation.

Her escort, in an interval between innings, was trying to tell her of a
game he had recently seen.

"This fellow was a fast runner," he remarked, "and he stole second base
while the pitcher wasn't looking."

"Stole it!" she exclaimed. "Why, I thought the bases were fastened
down."

"They are," the young man laughed, "but he stole it just the same."

"I think that's just disgraceful," she said indignantly. "Did they
arrest him?"

Her escort explained what he meant, and she looked relieved.

"A minute later, he tried it again," he went on, "but this time the ball
was too quick for him, and the runner died at third."

"Oh, how dreadful! I suppose he had been running so hard that his heart
gave out."

Bill nudged Lester, whose face was purple with his efforts to restrain
himself.

Again her escort patiently explained that the incident at third had been
in no sense a tragedy.

"That made two out," he went on, "but the next man at the bat lammed the
horsehide--No," he interrupted himself hurriedly, as he saw another
question trembling on her lips, "the horse wasn't in the hide. I mean,
he hit the ball and made a home run. That rattled the pitcher and he
went up in the air."

"Let's get out," whispered Bill to Lester. "I can see that she'll ask
him whether it was a baseball game or an aviation meet."

"It's his own fault," replied Lester, as he followed his companion to
another part of the stand where they could give free vent to their
mirth. "You can't blame her for not understanding baseball slang. I'll
bet after this that he'll stick to plain English."

"Look at those clouds coming up!" exclaimed Bill suddenly. "I'm afraid
rain's coming before the game is over."

"And our fellows behind," groaned Lester.

"We ought to have 'got the hay in' before this," said Bill, as Tom's
doggerel of the morning came back to him.

The Mount Vernon team was quick to see its advantage and began to play
for time.

They were ahead, and as more than five innings had been played, it would
be called a complete game and credited to them, if they could keep their
opponents from scoring before the rain came down.

With this end in view, they began a series of movements designed to
delay the game. The Rally Hall boys were at the bat and it was the
beginning of the seventh inning. They were desperate in their desire to
tie or go ahead of the enemy. Those two runs loomed bigger and bigger,
as the game drew near its end.

"We've got to get a move on, fellows," admonished Fred, as his side came
to bat.

"And in an awful hurry, too," agreed Melvin.

"The time's short even if the rain doesn't come," declared Ned. "But
from the look of those clouds, we won't play a full game. Make this the
'lucky seventh' and crack out a couple of runs."

"How are we going to get anything, if that pitcher doesn't put it over?"
asked Tom, as he stood at the plate, bat in hand. "Hi, there," he called
to the boxman. "Put the ball over the plate and I'll kill it."

"Take your time," drawled the pitcher, as he bent over, pretending to
tie his shoe lace. "I'll strike you out soon enough."

That shoe lace seemed very hard to tie, judging from the time he spent
in doing it. At last, when he could not keep up the pretence any longer,
he straightened up and took his position in the box. Then, something
about the ball seemed to attract his attention. He looked at it
earnestly and signaled to the captain who walked in slowly from centre
field. He in turn beckoned to the first baseman, and the three joined in
conversation at the pitcher's box.

By this time, the crowd had caught the idea, and a storm of protest
broke out from the stands.

"Play ball!"

"Cut out the baby act!"

"Can't you win without the rain?"

"What a crowd of quitters!"

"Be sports and play the game!"

"They're showing a yellow streak!"

"The white feather, you mean!"

Most of the protests came from the Rally Hall followers, but a good many
also of the home team's supporters were disgusted at these
unsportsmanlike tactics.

Teddy rushed up to the umpire, his eyes blazing.

"Are you going to stand for this?" he asked. "What kind of a deal are we
getting in this town, anyway?"

The umpire, who had tried to be strictly impartial, raised his hand
soothingly.

"Go easy, son," he replied. "I was only waiting to make sure. I'll see
that you get fair play.

"Cut out that waiting stuff," he called to the pitcher, "and play ball."

The pitcher took his position in the box, but the captain strolled
toward centre field at a snail's pace.

"Hurry up there now," ordered the umpire. "I'll give you till I count
ten to get out in the field. If you're not there by that time, I'll put
you out of the game."

"I'm going, am I not?" retorted the captain, still creeping along.

"One," said the umpire. "Two. Three."

The captain's pace quickened.

"Four. Five. Six."

The captain broke into a trot.

"Seven. Eight. Nine."

But by this time the captain had reached his position. It was evident
that the umpire meant what he said.

"Now, put them over," he ordered the pitcher, "and I'll send you to the
bench, if I see any signs of holding back. Play ball."

There was no further delay, and the pitcher shot the ball over the
plate. Tom, true to his promise, "killed" the ball, sending a scorching
liner between second and third that netted him two bases. Fred
sacrificed him to third by laying a beautiful bunt down on the first
base line. Morley hit the ball a resounding crack, but it went straight
to the second baseman, who made a great stop and nipped Tom as he came
rushing in to the plate. A long fly to centre field ended the inning,
and gloom settled down on the boys from Rally Hall.

"Seven goose eggs in a row," groaned Billy Burton.

"Never mind," said Fred cheerily, as he picked up his glove. "We're
getting on to his curves now. Did you see how we belted him in that
inning? No pop-up flies, but good solid welts. The breaks in the luck
were against us but they won't be always."

As though to back up his words of cheer, the sun at that instant broke
through the clouds and the field was flooded with light.

"Hurrah!" yelled Teddy, throwing up his hat. "It isn't going to rain
after all."

"Those were only wind clouds," exulted Melvin.

"It is the sun of Austerlitz," quoted Tom.

"It's a good omen anyway," declared Ned. "Buckle down to your work now,
boys, and play like tigers."

And they did. Fred promptly struck the first man out on three pitched
balls. The second popped up a high foul, which Tom gathered in after a
long run. The third man up dribbled a slow one to the box and Fred
quickly snapped the ball over to first for an out.

"Short and sweet, that inning," commented Slim Haley.

"Now it's our turn again," said Teddy. "Here's where we win."

"Up guards and at them," encouraged Tom.

But, try as they would, their bad luck persisted. Their slugging was
hard and fierce, but the ball went straight into a fielder's hands, and
again they went out on the diamond without a score to their credit.

In the enemy's eighth turn at bat, it looked as if they might get one or
more runs over the plate. A lucky bound allowed one man to get to first,
and he went to second when Morley dropped a high fly after a long run.
There were men on first and second with none out, and their chance for a
score was bright.

The next man up sent a whistling liner right over second. Teddy, who was
playing close to the bag, jumped in the air and pulled down the ball.
That, of course, put out the batter. As Teddy came down with the ball in
his hand, he stepped on the base, thus putting out the man who had made
a bee line for third, thinking the ball would go safe, and was now
trying desperately to get back. That made two out. The fellow who had
been on first had almost reached second, but turned and sprinted back
with Teddy in hot pursuit. He clapped the ball on him just in time, and
the side was out. Teddy had made a triple play unassisted.

It was a sparkling and most unusual feat, and the whole stand rose to
Teddy as he came in, and cheered and cheered until he was forced to pull
off his cap. The Mount Vernon rooters forgot their partisanship and
shouted as loudly as the rest. As for his schoolmates, they mauled and
hugged him until he fled for refuge to the bench.

"Some fireworks!" yelled one.

"I can die happy, now!" exclaimed another. "I've seen a triple play
pulled off."

"You'll never see another," prophesied his neighbor.

The Rally Hall boys were yelling their loudest to encourage their
favorites when they came to bat for the last time.

A groan went up when Duncan lifted a high fly to centre field, which was
caught easily. But Melvin sent a sizzling liner to left, just inside
third, and made two bases on it. And the yells were deafening, when Ward
advanced him to third, by a fierce grounder to short, that was too hot
to hold.

"Rushton! Rushton!" they shouted, as Fred came to bat after Tom had gone
out on a foul. "Hit it on the trademark!" "Give it a ride!" "Win your
own game!"

The first ball was a deceptive drop, but Fred did not "bite." The second
was a low fast one, about knee high, just the kind he was accustomed to
"kill."

With a mighty swing he caught it fair "on the seam." It rose like a shot
and soared into centre field, far over the fielder's head.

Melvin and Ward came in, tying the score, and Fred, who had gone around
the bases like a deer, made it a home run by just beating the ball on a
headlong slide to the plate.

Rally Hall promptly went raving mad.

There was still one more chance for the Mount Vernon lads, and their
best hitters were coming on. But Fred was on his mettle now, and put
every ounce of his strength and cunning into his pitching. They simply
could not hit his slants. The first went out on strikes, Ward made a
dazzling catch of a hot liner, and, when Melvin, after a long run,
caught a high foul close to the left field bleachers, the game was over,
with the score three to two in favor of Rally Hall.

It was a hilarious crowd that met the team at Green Haven when the train
pulled in. The whole nine had played well, and all came in for their
share of the ovation, though the Rushton brothers were regarded as
having carried off the honors of the game.

"Do you know what pleased me most of all?" asked Fred of Melvin.

"That home run you made, I suppose," answered the other.

"No," was the answer. "It was that we downed the 'ringer.' They couldn't
get away with their low-down trick. We put one over on 'voconometry and
trigoculture.'"

But Fred had a chance to "put one over" a few days later that pleased
him still more.

A group of the boys had been down to the post office and were walking
slowly on the road back to Rally Hall. It was a beautiful afternoon, and
they took their time, in no hurry to get home.

Suddenly there was a loud "honk," "honk" behind them, and, looking back,
they saw an automobile coming swiftly toward them.

They scattered to let it pass, but, as it came up it slackened speed and
began zigzagging from one side of the road to the other, making the boys
jump to keep out of the way.

"Can't you look out where you're going?" asked Slim angrily. "What kind
of a driver are you, anyway?"

"By Jove, fellows!" exclaimed Bill Garwood, as he looked more closely at
the face behind the goggles, "it's Andy Shanks!"

It was indeed that disgraced youth, who was making a trip through that
part of the state, and whom some impulse had prompted to go by way of
Green Haven.

"Sure it is," he answered sourly. "Get out of the way, you boobs. Jump,
you skate," he said to Fred, as he darted the machine at him.

Fred leaped nimbly out of the way, and Andy, with a derisive jeer, sped
on, looking behind him and laughing insolently.

Fred was white with indignation.

"The coward!" he exclaimed. "If I could get on that running board, I'd
drag him from his seat!"

"He sure ought to have a licking," agreed Bill. "But we'd have to be
some good little sprinters to catch him now."

"Look, fellows!" cried Billy Burton excitedly, "he's stopped. There must
be something the matter with his engine."

They all started to run.

Andy had dismounted quickly and was working desperately to get his
stalled engine going.

He got it sparking at last, but before he could jump into the seat the
boys were on him.

"No, you don't!" cried Fred, getting between him and the machine. "I've
got an account to settle with you."

"Get out of my way," snarled Andy, trying to push past.

Fred's answer was a blow that caught the bully under the chin and sent
his teeth together with a snap.

"I'll fix you for that," Andy roared.

"Come along," was Fred's challenge, slipping off his coat, "but first
take off your goggles. I'm going to lick you good and plenty, but I
don't want to blind you."

Then followed a fight that Slim afterward described to a delighted group
at the dormitory as a "peach of a scrap."

Even a rat will fight if it is cornered, and Andy, having no way out,
did his best. All the hate and venom he felt for Fred came to the
surface, and he fought ferociously.

But he was no match, despite his size and strength, for the boy he had
wronged. Fred was in splendid shape, thanks to his athletic training,
and, besides, he was as quick as a cat. He easily evaded the bull-like
rushes of Andy, and got in one clean-cut blow after another that shook
the bully from head to foot. The thought of all he had suffered through
Shank's trickery gave an additional sting to the blows he showered on
him, and it was not long before Andy lay on the ground, sullen and
vanquished.

"Have you had enough?" asked Fred.

"Enough," mumbled Andy, through his bruised lips.

They left him there, humbled but furious, and went on their way to the
Hall.

"Fred, you went round him like a cooper round a barrel!" said Bill
Garwood admiringly.

"He had it coming to him," answered Fred. "If ever a fellow needed it,
he did."

He stepped aside to avoid a car coming toward him in which two
rough-looking men were seated.

"Look, Fred!" cried Teddy, clutching his brother's arm as the car went
by.

"What? Where?" asked Fred wonderingly.

"The auto!" gasped Teddy. "The man with a scar! The fellows that stole
Uncle Aaron's watch!"

CHAPTER XXX

THE CAPTURE--CONCLUSION

"You don't mean it!" exclaimed Fred, as excited as Teddy.

"I'm sure of it! And now we're going to miss them again," groaned his
brother.

At that moment a boy on a motorcycle came round a curve in the road.

"It's Lester Lee on his motorbike!" cried Fred, as an idea came to him.
"Quick!" he yelled, waving his hand to Lester.

The latter put on speed and was soon beside them.

"What's the matter?" he asked, as he jumped from the saddle.

"Lend us your machine, Lester, like a good fellow," cried Fred. "I'll
tell you all about it later. Quick, Teddy, jump on with me!"

In a second the Rushton boys were off, while the boys without the
slightest idea of what was happening, looked after them with wonder in
their eyes.

Fred had often ridden on Lester's motorcycle and knew how to handle it
as well as the owner himself. He let out all speed and soon was
traveling like the wind, with Teddy hanging on for dear life.

The automobile had a good start, and it was several minutes before they
came in sight of it. Then they slackened their pace, keeping a couple of
hundred yards in the rear.

"How on earth did those fellows ever get an auto?" asked Teddy
wonderingly.

"Stole it, probably," answered Fred. "But that isn't what is bothering
me. What I want to know is, how we're going to get them nabbed. We don't
know where they're going to stop, and when they do land somewhere
they'll probably have others of their gang around."

It was a perplexing problem, and they taxed their brains to think of an
answer. But at present, the chief thing was to keep them in sight, and,
as the men had no idea that they were being followed, this was easy
enough.

Everything went well until, just after they turned a bend in the road,
they ran into a bed of sand. Up to now the road had been hard and
smooth, and they had been going at top speed. Fred saw the sandy stretch
and tried to put on the brakes, but the distance was too short.

The sudden check in speed as the motorcycle ploughed into the sand sent
both boys flying over the handle bars, while the machine staggered and
at last fell down beside the trunk of a tree.

For a moment they lay still, the breath fairly knocked out of them by
the shock. Then they slowly scrambled to their feet, a little shakily,
and looked at each other in disgust.

"Did you ever see such luck as that?" asked Teddy. "Now our goose is
cooked. We'll lose sight of them and that will be the end of it."

"Not by a jugful, it won't," declared Fred, stoutly. "Jump up, and we'll
catch up to them in a jiffy."

He righted the machine, and after leading it through the streak of sandy
road, they mounted and started off. But they had not gone twenty rods
before they began to slow up, and Fred discovered to his dismay that
they were riding on a flat tire.

"We must have had a puncture when the machine fell down," he said as
they jumped off. "It bumped up against the tree, and some projection
jammed into the tire. Here it is now," as he disclosed a tiny opening.

They opened Lester's tool box and set themselves vigorously to work to
repair the puncture. They worked feverishly, and in a minute or two got
out the inner tube and prepared to patch the damaged spot.

"I can do this just as well alone," said Fred. "You take a squint at the
tank and see if we have enough gas to take us on. Lester may have been
nearly out when we grabbed the machine from him."

A groan from Teddy, a moment later, told him that he had hit on an
unpleasant truth.

"Almost empty!" exclaimed Teddy. "There isn't enough to take us another
mile. There's a hoodoo in it. We no sooner see those fellows than we
lose them again."

There was consternation in the boys' eyes as they gazed blankly at each
other.

Fred rose to his feet and looked about him. Half a mile ahead, he saw a
church spire rising above the trees.

"There must be a town over there," he said. "I'll tell you what we'll
do. You skip ahead and find some place where they sell gasoline. Get a
couple of quarts and hustle back. This job will take me ten or fifteen
minutes more, and as soon as I get it done, I'll come on to meet you. If
the gas gives out before I get there, I'll trundle the machine along
until we meet. Get a move on now, for every minute counts."

Teddy started off on a dog trot, and Fred once more bent over his work.
Despite his air of confidence, he had very little hope of picking up the
trail, once the vagrants had gotten out of sight. Still, they could make
inquiries and might have luck. At the very worst they could do no more
than fail, and they would have the consolation of knowing that they had
not quit.

He worked desperately, and soon the inner tube was as good as ever. He
tumbled the tools back into the box, mounted the machine, and as the
road was good, once past the sandy stretch, he let it out, fearing,
however, that at any moment it might go dry.

He had reached the outskirts of the village, when he saw Teddy hurrying
toward him with a can in his hand. He greeted his brother with a shout.
And it seemed to the boys that they had never heard sweeter music than
the splashing of the gasoline as it went down into the tank.

"I've had one bit of luck, anyway!" exclaimed Teddy, once more in his
normal high spirits. "I asked if they had seen the auto go through, and
they showed me where it had turned off to the right. We'll get them
yet."

"That's the way to talk!" responded his brother. "We'll follow the old
advice and be like the postage stamp. We'll stick until we get there."

They took the road to the right that had been pointed out, and let the
motorcycle out at full speed. They soon made up for lost time, and their
hearts exulted when at last they saw before them the automobile they
were looking for. They slowed down at once, keeping an easy distance in
the rear.

On they went through several villages, until at last the automobile
stopped at a low roadhouse on the outskirts of the town of Saxby. The
men got out and went into the house.

Still without any definite plan, the boys brought the motorcycle to a
stop at the same place.

There was a barroom in front, and a sign announced that soda and soft
drinks were for sale.

They pulled their caps down over their faces, went in and ordered
sarsaparilla. They took their seats at a small table in the rear and
sipped it slowly, glancing carelessly from time to time at the two men
who were sitting nearby with a whisky bottle between them.

And as they looked, the suspicion that these were the tramps they had
seen in Sam Perkins' barn became a certainty. There was the tall man
with the scar on his temple showing clearly; and the short, stout man
with him was without doubt his former companion. They were dressed more
decently than before, evidently as the result of their stealings, but
there had been no improvement in their coarse and evil faces.

They seemed in no hurry, and it was a pretty safe guess that they would
tarry where they were until they had emptied the bottle.

"You stay here," whispered Fred to Teddy, "and keep your eye on them.
I'll take the bike and skip down to the main part of the town and get a
constable."

"I'll be back in a minute, Ted," he said aloud, as he sauntered from the
room.

He climbed into the saddle and in three minutes was in the heart of the
town. A hurried inquiry led him to the office of the constable. He found
him at his ease, swapping stories with three or four of his cronies.

But the indifference with which he greeted Fred's entrance gave place to
eager interest as Fred told him of the theft at Oldtown and of the
reward that had been offered.

"Sure, I'll go with you, Son," he said, rising to his feet. "And two or
three of you fellows had better come along," he added to his friends.
"Those fellows may put up a fight when they're tackled."

A moment more and an automobile carrying four men was speeding to the
roadhouse, while Fred rode alongside.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw that the other automobile was
still standing in front. The birds had not yet flown.

Two of the constable's party stayed outside to intercept the men if they
should attempt to escape, while he himself, with another, entered the
room. He went straight up to the pair, who looked at him angrily.

"I want you," he said, at the same time exhibiting his badge.

As though moved by the same spring, the men jumped to their feet and
rushed for the door. The constable collared the short one, but the tall
man had nearly reached the door when Fred tripped him, and he went down
with a crash. Before he could rise the rest were on him and in a moment
both men were handcuffed.

They bundled them into the automobile and took them to the constable's
office. Fred and Teddy accompanied them on the motorcycle, their hearts
beating high with exultation.

A careful search of their pockets brought to light several pawntickets.
The boys scanned them eagerly.

"Here it is!" cried Fred, as he noted the date on one of them. "It's for
a watch, and it's dated three days after the robbery at Oldtown. And
here's the number of the watch on it."

He drew from his vest pocket a slip of paper and compared the number.

"Sure as guns!" he exclaimed delightedly. "Here's the number, 61,284.
The same one that's on the pawn ticket."

"Won't Uncle Aaron be tickled to death?" chortled Teddy. "Glory,
hallelujah!"

"What are these, I wonder," asked the constable as he looked over a
package of papers.

"Why don't you say we stole those, too?" snarled the tall prisoner.

"Well, didn't you?" asked the constable sarcastically.

"No, we didn't," was the sullen reply. "We found them in an open road
near a bridge----"

"A bridge!" interrupted Teddy, pricking up his ears. "Let's see them."

They spread out the papers. They were greasy and dirty from long
carrying, but the boys' hearts leaped as they saw on them the name of
Aaron Rushton.

They looked at each other. Then they shouted.

"Hang out the flags!" cried Teddy. "Fire the cannon! Ring the bells!
Say, Fred, is this our lucky day, or isn't it?"

"You bet your life!" gloated Fred. "What is the nearest way to the
telegraph station?" he asked, turning to the constable.

The officer told him.

"Can't get the news home quick enough, eh?" he laughed good-naturedly.
"Well, I don't wonder. And when you see your folks, tell 'em I said
they're lucky to have such a pair of kids."

It was rather an excited, jumbled message that reached the Rushton home
that night, but it made Mr. Rushton's eyes kindle with pride, while his
wife's were wet with happy tears. Old Martha strutted about, glorying in
the vindication of her "lambs," and Uncle Aaron so far forgot himself as
to clap his brother on the shoulder and say:

"Fine boys, Mansfield, fine boys!"

Then, as though he had said too much, he added:

"I knew that Rally Hall would be the making of them."

After the telegram had been sent, the Rushton boys started back for
Rally Hall. They had had the most strenuous kind of a day, but all their
weariness was forgotten in the glorious ending that had been brought
about.

"It's a long lane that has no turning," remarked Fred, as they rode
along through the darkness. "Those fellows got away from us twice, but
they couldn't do it again."

"It was the third time and out for them, all right," jubilated Teddy.
"Say, Fred, can't you see the folks at home when they get that telegram?
Perhaps they're reading it this blessed minute."

"I guess we've squared ourselves with Uncle Aaron," chuckled his
brother.

"You mean I've squared myself," corrected Teddy. "He never had very much
against you, except that you always stood up for me when I got into
scrapes."

"He'll put it all up to Dr. Rally and the splendid discipline of the
school," said Fred.

"I suppose so," assented Teddy. "But we don't care where the credit
goes, as long as he gets back his watch and papers.

"By the way, Fred," he continued, as he became conscious of a feeling of
emptiness. "Do you realize that we haven't had any supper?"

"Haven't thought a thing about it," laughed Fred. "The fact is; I've
been too excited to think of eating. I'll bet that's the first time I
ever forgot anything like that. But now that you speak of it, I
certainly could punish a good supper."

"It'll be way past supper time when we get to the Hall," mused Teddy.

"Right you are," was the answer. "But we won't be long in getting to
sleep, after a day like this, and when we wake up it will be time for
breakfast."

But fate had willed that they should not go to bed hungry, for when at
last they reached their dormitory, they found their mates indulging in a
spread that Slim had furnished to celebrate the downing of Andy Shanks.

They greeted Fred and Teddy with a frenzy of enthusiasm and pushed them
down in seats before the eatables. A volley of questions was hurled at
them, but Mel assumed command.

"Not a word," he said, "until we've filled these pilgrims up to the
brim."

"But think how long that'll take," joked Billy. "I've seen these fellows
eat before."

"Mel," said Fred, as he pitched in like a hungry wolf, ably seconded by
Teddy, "I always thought you were a good friend of mine, but now I know
it. You've saved my life."

They ate till they could eat no more. Then, to the eager crowd around
them, the Rushton boys went over all the events of that memorable day.
Their chums listened breathlessly as they told of the exciting pursuit
of the tramps and their rounding up in the road house. And when they had
finished, there was a tumult of applause and congratulation.

"Great stuff, old scouts!" was the way Melvin summed up the general
feeling. "You've both done yourselves proud this day."

"Of course I'm glad you got back those things for your uncle," said
Slim, "but the thing that tickles me to death is the way you polished
off Andy Shanks. I haven't enjoyed anything so much since I've been at
Rally Hall. Whatever happens now, I feel that I haven't lived in vain."

"I guess we all feel the same way," acquiesced Billy. "Andy has had that
coming to him for a long time. Mel trimmed him once, but that was a year
ago, and he's been aching for another licking ever since."

"Well, he got it all right," declared Lester, "and it was a most
artistic job."

"What gets me is how he ever had the nerve to come back here, after he'd
been bundled out in disgrace," wondered Tom.

"Oh, I don't know," grinned Slim. "You know they say every criminal is
drawn back to the scene of his crimes."

"If he has that feeling again, I don't think he will yield to it,"
laughed Lester. "I guess we've seen the last of Andy Shanks."

It was late when at last they got to bed and the Rushton boys had never
slept more soundly than they did that night.

And when the boys went home a little later they had the warmest kind of
greeting. Nothing was too good for them. Teddy saw his advantage, and
the youth struck while the iron was hot.

"You _are_ going to let us go with Bill Garwood to his ranch,
aren't you, Mother?" he asked coaxingly.

"I guess I'll have to," smiled his mother, while Mr. Rushton nodded
assent.

"Sure!" broke in Uncle Aaron, "and what's more I'll buy the railroad
tickets."

And at this the boys almost fainted.

"Say," asked Teddy, when they were alone, "won't we have a bully time
with Bill on the ranch?"

"We most certainly will," agreed Fred with emphasis.

And what glorious times they had in that wild western country, with its
wide sweep of plain and forest, its danger and its mystery, its bucking
bronchos and reckless cowboys will be told in our next volume, to be
entitled: "The Rushton Boys in the Saddle; or, The Ghost of the Plains."

"And the cowboys," exulted Teddy. "Whoopee!"

"Riding the mustangs and watching the round-ups," added Fred.

"And greasers and rustlers and Indians and maybe some shooting," said
Teddy, hopefully.

"S-sh," warned his brother, "If mother hears any talk of shooting, it's
all off."

"I don't mean men," explained Teddy, "but bears or panthers or
buffaloes----"

"Nothing doing with buffaloes," laughed Fred. "They've all been wiped
out long ago."

"Well, anyway," Teddy wound up, his eyes shining, "we're going to have
the most exciting time of our lives."