Iris felt her senses going as the two men clutched her roughly, but managed, in spite of a restraining hand, to give another loud scream. And it was these sounds that guided Fibsy's flying feet toward the scene of conflict. He had come with Stone in the car that the detective had used to follow Iris from Pellbrook, but as no one knew which way to look for the kidnapper's car, they had separated, and Stone with Campbell went hunting the highroads, while Fibsy, scenting the truth, had dived into the wood. He had heard Iris' last scream, also the noise of the automatic, and he blew a loud blast on a shrill whistle, as he hurried to the girl. Nearing the three, Fibsy's quick eyes saw the pistol on the ground, and he snatched it up, and aimed it straight at the masked man. "Hands up!" he cried, and Pollock turned to see a small but dauntless-looking boy threatening him. Again endangered by his own firearm, Pollock stood at bay, raging but impotent in the face of the steady aim of the boy. In another moment Stone came, with Campbell, in the Pell car and Iris breathed freely once more, as she felt stealthily for the pin in her belt ribbon. It was safe, and she sank down on the ground, satisfied to let the newcomers take charge of the whole matter. This they did with neatness and dispatch. Bidding Fibsy keep the two men covered with the small but efficacious weapon, Stone and Campbell tied the hands of Pollock and his man Bob, using the dustrobe from Pollock's car, cut into strips for the purpose. Then they bundled them unceremoniously into their own car and Stone himself took the wheel. Campbell drove Iris home, but Fibsy traveled with his chief. The boy was thrilling with satisfaction at the way things were turning out, and not at all vain-glorious over his own part in the affair. Stone turned the two men over to the police on a charge of kidnapping and then, elated, returned to Pellbrook. "How can I be grateful enough to you," Iris cried at sight of the detective, "for coming to my aid! And Fibsy, too! Oh, what should I have done if you hadn't arrived just as you did? But how did you know where we were?" "I didn't," said Stone; "it was Fibsy's idea that the man would take to the woods. But your screams and the noise of the revolver led us at the last. I congratulate you, Miss Clyde, on a pretty narrow escape. Those men were desperate." "Oh, I know it! Pollock began by being fairly courteous, but when I wouldn't give up the pin, he grew rough and rude." "Miss Clyde, we must look out for that pin. Though, now that the one who wants it is in safe-keeping himself, there's not so much danger. But he may have clever assistants. By the way, there's no doubt that this so-called Pollock is Charlie Young. Hughes is putting him through a third degree, and I think we need not concern ourselves about him just now. He won't escape from his present quarters easily."