" panted the old
man-hunter threateningly, as he aimed his pistol at Johnson.

"Ise a dead niggah!" groaned the rascal, dismally.

"That's what you'll be if you stir!" grimly said Old King Brady.

He strode over to Harry and picked him up.

First he was overjoyed to find that the boy was alive, then he
carefully examined the wound on his scalp and saw it was only skin
deep.

He court-plastered it, to stop the bleeding.

With a hatful of water he bathed the young detective's temples, and
while so employed gazed around in quest of Mason.

The man was far away in the boat by that time.

Harry rapidly recovered, and finally got upon his feet again.

His head was very sore, but otherwise he suffered no ill effects from
the wound he received, and cried eagerly:

"Can't we head off that villain?"

"I'm going to make an effort. Grab the prisoner."

While Harry took possession of the scared darky, Old King Brady ran
around the swamp at the top of his speed toward the spot Mason was
heading the boat for, and kept out of the rascal's view.

In this manner Old King Brady reached the grounds surrounding Oliver
Dalton's house, and suddenly caught view of Mason.

He had landed, and was kneeling down beside a rock, under which was a
hollow space from which he was drawing a package.

Hearing the old detective coming, he bounded to his feet, and raised
his revolver to fire. But he was not quick enough.

A sharp report came from the detective's pistol.

The bullet lodged in Mason's leg.

With a yell of pain he fell.

In a moment more the officer pounced on him.

"I've got you at last, Mason!"

"Curse you--shoot! Kill me!" yelled the maddened man.

"No. I'll reserve your life for a prison cell, so you may repent of
your sins at your leisure, and ultimately become a reformed man!"

He held the rascal down by main force.

The shot brought Mr. Dalton and his daughter from the house, and as
they rushed over to the spot, the broker cried joyfully:

"So you've got him, eh?"

"Yes; got both," replied the detective.

"Thank Heaven for that!"

"Mason, what's in that package?"

"Money. About $30,000," growled the man in surly tones.

"Is that the money you stole from Mr. Dalton's office?"

"Yes. I may as well own up to it now."

"Mr. Dalton, take your property."

"I shall," replied the broker, seizing the parcel.

Just then Harry came along with Johnson in tow, and the two prisoners
were handcuffed togethe