ctive and the track-walker he was hauled up and
pulled ashore in a half-fainting condition. It was some time ere he
revived.

But when his faculties returned, and the old track-walker had been
thanked, the boy told their benefactor all that had happened.

He was surprised and indignant.

"That man Mason is a devil!" he exclaimed.

"We'll make short work of him for this terrible deed," said Harry.

"And I wish I could help you."

Shortly afterward the track-walker departed to resume his lonely tramp
along the road-bed with a sledge over his shoulder to replace any spike
or frogs dislodged by the passing cars.

Left alone, the Bradys glanced at each other, and Harry remarked
softly:

"Our time hasn't come to perish yet, partner."

"I felt sure of that, even before that man came to our rescue."

"We've found out now what a desperate man Mason is."

"And we'll have to resort to drastic measures to get the best of him."

"How do you feel?"

"In a good humor to fight."

"Then let's go up to the house and tackle him."

"He will be surprised to see us alive."

They were thoroughly rested now, and, having examined their pistols and
found them in working order, they proceeded up the hill.

Within a short time they reached the house, and rang the front door
bell for admittance.

George Scott, the big negro whom they had met at the gate when they
were there before, opened the door and grinned at them.

"Hello, George!" said Harry. "How are you?"

"Right smart, sah, thank you," chuckled the darky.

"Is Mr. Mason in?"

"Good Lawdy, no," replied the colored man. "An' de blame rascal better
not come in dis yere house, or I'll blow de roof ob his head off, sho's
yo's bo'n. I done know all he's been a-doin', I does."

"Why, who gave you the news?" asked Harry, in surprise.

"Missy Lizzie, sah. She arrive heah ter-day, bress her heart, an' she
seen yo' a-comin', an' done tell me fo' ter ask yo' right inter de
parlor. She be downstairs in a moment, Massa Brady. Come right in,
gemmen, come right in."

And he led the detectives into the parlor, flung open the blinds, and
left the room.

In a few moments the door opened and Lizzie Dalton stepped into the
room and approached them, with a smile and extended hand.

CHAPTER XIII.

NICK WIFFLES EXPLAINS A MYSTERY.

"So you found Ronald Mason prowling around the swamp, after you traced
Sim Johnson down here from New York?" asked the broker's daughter,