"Well?" demanded Phineas shortly, while Jim leaned forward anxiously. "It wasn't one of the rascals; it was a blind, as you've intimated."

The Police Major nodded promptly. "Number two of the schemes of those rascals has failed. My people have just returned, and the sergeant has 'phoned me the news. He overhauled this boat and went aboard her. The fourth individual was another well-known character from Colon, while the owner of the craft, thinking perhaps that he would get into trouble, and hoping to set matters right for himself, admitted that he had arranged to slip off when a fire signal was lighted. The sergeant left him out there to go where he liked, and steamed back as fast as his engine would carry him. This time the pursuit will hardly be by way of the Atlantic."

The Hero of Panama — Part 175

"But perhaps by way of Panama, on to the Pacific," suggested Phineas.

The Hero of Panama — Part 175

"Or into the bush; that's where I imagine they may have gone," said Jim. "It seems to me that we have every reason to suspect that that is the course they will have followed."

The Hero of Panama — Part 175

His two companions in the room looked steadily at him. Before now they had known our hero to give common-sense solutions when there was a difficulty, and all through, since the moment when they had first known him, he had proved himself to be possessed of a level head, of that sharpness and shrewdness for which the American is notorious. It was therefore with a feeling of interest that they waited for him to speak.

"Every reason to think they've gone into the bush," repeated the Major. "I own that I have thought of the matter; but then, we all know the bush. It isn't everyone who would willingly make a journey through it; for fever frightens them, and besides, once you get a little distance from the zone, there are natives. There aren't many men who can tell us much about the latter. Of course it's part of my business to have found out something; and I have ascertained that while some are friendly enough, there are others who could not be trusted. They would kill a white man for the clothes he stood up in. Then why do you consider that they have gone by way of the bush?"

Jim stood up and walked the room backwards and forwards. Nerves were not things that he had much acquaintance with, but the reader can well excuse him if on this occasion he was fidgety. In fact, it was as much as he could do to keep quiet. He longed to rush off and make some sort of effort. It was only his solid good sense that restrained him, the good sense that showed him clearly how a false start, pursuit along a wrong line, might throw the game entirely into the hands of the miscreants who had abducted Sadie. It was for her sake that he stayed in the room, fidgeting at the delay, but waiting, waiting for some definite information to show him where the tracks of the fugitives led. And in his own mind he had traced those tracks.