Five minutes later he was back in his office once more and had Blue Top on the telephone. “Come,” was his message. “I’ve got a clue, Mr. Eastman. But don’t bring nobody with you.” It seemed to him that he had only just lain down to rest when he was up again, admitting Eastman, who had come as quick as a horse could carry him. The father was more dishevelled than ever; and on his haggard, unshaven face stood out the sweat of effort and anxiety. Three days of agony had aged him. “Oh, my boy!” were his first words. “I know where he is, but I don’t know how to git there,” said the doctor. Briefly he explained. Eastman, half distracted, paced the floor as he listened. “Oh, tell me what to do,” he cried when the doctor had finished. “My wife--it’s killing her.” “The medicine I left’ll keep the sick feller up till this evenin’.” “I’ll follow you to-night, then. Oh, I must! I must! The boy’ll need me. They dragged him over all those miles. Think of it! And wore out his poor little legs.” “We’ve got to go about this thing mighty careful,” warned the doctor. “You trail me and somebody’ll be shot. Mebbe it’ll be me, mebbe it’ll be your baby.” The father halted before the younger man. “But how can you help him,” he demanded, “with your hands tied?” “Wal, I’ve thought of a scheme. The man that come after me searched me for a pistol both nights. But he’s never looked into the oat-bag. So, I’ll put a gun in that bag, and when I stand up from feedin’ Bobby I’ll have the drop on him.” “He may get you first. Then what? Oh, I’ll never see my boy again!” “Wal, if you can think of a better way, go ahead.” But at the end of an hour Eastman agreed with the doctor that there was no better plan. “All right,” he said, “--all right--I’ll trust to you. Now I must telephone my wife that there’s hope.” When the doctor awoke early that afternoon it was to learn that Mrs. Eastman had arrived and was at the hotel. Eastman himself called the doctor up to announce her coming and the latter asked the parents to remain secluded during the remainder of the day. There was reason to believe that the kidnappers might have a confederate on watch in the town. But Eastman had no thought beyond the finding of his child. “Suppose that sick man died to-day,” he said. “Won’t the other man leave and take Laurie with him? Doctor, I think I ought to start fifty men out on a search.” The doctor opposed the suggestion. “Take my advice,” he urged kindly. “Tell Mrs. Eastman to be brave.” Eastman only groaned and hung up. But later on he telephoned again and again, always with some fresh idea that was filling the heart of the waiting mother with forebodings. Letty telephoned, too. “Don’t go alone to-night,” she begged. “It’s too dangerous.” “I got to, Letty,” he declared. “If Eastman starts men out, which way’ll they go? It might take ’em a week to find that shanty.”