but rather gazed at him.

"What is it you expect to see?" she inquired at last. "Goldite isn't
down there, is it?"

"I'm rather expecting--if I haven't miscalculated on the time----
There he is now," he answered, still staring afar off down upon the
valley. He raised his arm and extended a finger to point towards the
north-most limit of the level stretch of land. "Do you see that small,
dark object in the road? That's a road, that slender yellow streak
that you can follow."

Beth obeyed directions and thereby discerned, with remarkable
clearness, the moving object, far away below. She did not in the least
suspect its nature.

"Why, yes--what is it?" she asked with languid interest, having
expected something more significant. "Is it some small animal?"

"Yes," responded Van. "It's Searle."

Beth was instantly all attention.

"Not Mr. Bostwick, in his car?"

Van continued to study the gray of the world-wide map.

"I rather wonder----" he mused, and there he halted, presently adding,
"He's climbing a hill. You might not think so, looking down from here,
but it's steep and sandy, for a car."

She was watching eagerly.

"And he's no further along towards Goldite than this?"

"He's had some tough old going," answered Van. "He's in luck to----"
then to himself, as he continued to scan the scene for something he did
not apparently find. "By Jupe! I'd have sworn Matt Barger----" He
broke off abruptly, adding in a spirit of fairness, "Searle is getting
right up to the ridge all right. Good boy! He must have a powerful
motor under the--There! By George! I knew it! I knew it! Got him!
right there in the gravel!"

The girl looked suddenly upon him, wholly unable to comprehend the
sharp exclamations he was making.

"What has got him? What do you mean?" she demanded in vague alarm. "I
don't see what you----"

"That's Matt every time--I thought so," he resumed, as he stepped a
little closer to the girl. "Don't you see them?--those lively little
specks, swarming all around the machine?"

Beth bent her gaze on the drama, far below--a play in which she knew
but one of the characters, and nothing of the meaning of the scene.

"I see--yes--something like a lot of tiny ants--or something. What are
they?--not robbers?--not men?"

"Part men, part hyenas," he told her quietly. "It's a lot of State
convicts, escaped from their prison, two days free--and desperate."

She was suddenly very pale. He