The Bradys Beyond Their Depth Part 21

"No, we wuzn't!"

"I'll find out about that! Hey, Sim!"

"Am dat yo', Ma.s.sa Ronald?" cried the c.o.o.n, running back.

"Yes, and here are two fellows sneaking along on your trail."

"Wha' fo'?" demanded the darky.

"Hanged if I know. Look at them."

"Fo' de Lawd sakes, dey was on de train wif me, sah."

"They were, hey? That's suspicious."

"Oh, go 'long!" said Old King Brady. "Can't a man walk along here without bein' held up like a burglar by you chaps? Gosh durn it, if it's robbery yer up ter, it's mighty little money you'll find on me."

"We ain't thieves."

"Wall, I'm blamed if yer don't look like it."

"Sim, take a good look at those gents and if you happen to find any guns about their clothes just relieve them of them."

"Ya.s.sah," said the c.o.o.n.

He got so close to Old King Brady that he suddenly detected the fact that the detective was wearing a wig and false beard.

The cunning negro did not let on what he had seen.

But he suddenly grabbed them and pulled them off the old detective.

It effected a startling change in Old King Brady's appearance, and Mason recognized him at once, and roared furiously:

"I'll be blest if it ain't those cussed detectives again!"

"Lawd ama.s.sy!" groaned Sim, all his courage departing, and he made a sudden dash for the swamp and rushed away, spattering up showers of mud and water.

The Bradys swiftly drew their pistols.

It was clear that a fight was imminent.

The man with the rifle pulled the trigger, intending to shoot the old detective, but his weapon missed fire.

"Run!" yelled his companion behind the rocks, and he shot at Harry just as Mason made a dash for shelter.

A bullet whistled by dangerously close to Young King Brady's cheek, and he discharged a shot at the running man.

It carried off his hat.

The next moment the three rascals vanished.

Harry and his partner made an effort to find them, but failed.

All hands had gone plunging among the weeds and shrubbery, and in an instant were swallowed up by the verdure.

"A warm welcome, Harry," said Old King Brady, when they met on the railroad track five minutes later.

"I'm sorry Mason caught us shadowing the valet."

"It gave our presence here away, and will put them on their guard."

"Can't be helped. We know Mason is really here, however. He's desperate now, and won't hesitate to murder us if he can, to avoid arrest."

"Who was the other masked man, I wonder?"

"Must be the party who helped him to get the box off the train, and carry the body of Mr. Dalton to the house in the swamp."

"Oh, Mason hadn't a hand in stealing the box from the baggage car. He got off before the cars reached this point of the swamp, I'm sure."

"Then that fellow must have had other helpers, as he could not very well have done the job unaided," said Harry.

"Let us get around to the board walk, and try to reach the hut. If they are heading for that building, we can meet them there."

"Here's a quicker way," said the boy, pointing at a boat.

It was a crude affair, half hidden in the reeds.

They embarked, and rowed out through the lagoons.

The water was mostly quite shallow, but there were places where the detectives could not see bottom.

In a short time they reached the island in the swamp, and, leaping ash.o.r.e, they ran over to the hut.

One glance inside was enough for them.

"The place is deserted," was Harry's comment.

"Wait for them. We may have headed off the rascals."

"If they saw us coming here, they will shun the place."

"There was no way to conceal our movements."

An hour went by quietly enough.

Not a soul ventured near the place, and Harry grew restless.

He made a circuit of the island, scanning every section of the swamp, and finally returned to his partner, and said: