“Oh, I’m ’way up in the clouds all of the time,” piped Pep. “Why, I’ll feel like a girl just going into society. I’m going to call it a short day and quit. There are some groceries to order, so I’ll attend to that and we’ll take in the beach this evening.” “Yes, we’ve earned a little recreation, I think,” agreed Randy. Pep started off, whistling like some happy lark. It was then five o’clock in the afternoon and he was due to return in half an hour. Double that time passed on, however, yet he did not appear. “Wonder why Pep doesn’t show up?” ruminated Randy. “It’s time he did, as we wanted to get an early start.” At half past six Randy was nervous and a little put out. At seven o’clock he put on his cap and started to lock up to go in quest of his missing comrade. Just as he came out on the broad planking leading from the boardwalk to the entrance to the store, a man hailed him. He was a stout, lumbering old fellow whom Randy had seen before. “Hi!” he hailed, “you remember me; don’t you?” “Why yes,” nodded Randy. “You are the man Mr. Jolly traded his rig with for our furniture.” “That’s it,” nodded the man. “I say, I thought I’d come and tell you. It was near my place that the accident happened.” “What accident?” challenged Randy sharply. “Automobile—that young fellow that’s joshing and jollying all the time——” “You mean Pep—Pepperill Smith?” asked Randy. “That’s him, I remember hearing Jolly call him by that name. Well, it was him that got hurt and——” “Hurt!” cried Randy, alarmed at the word—“When? How? Where?” “About an hour ago, by an automobile in front of my place,” was the reply. “Was he—was Pep seriously hurt?” faltered Randy. “Not but what he could walk and sass the chauffeur, and all that; but I reckon one hand was pretty badly crushed. The reason I came to tell you was, that isn’t all of it. From what I hear he is kidnapped.” CHAPTER IX—PEP IN CLOVER “Kidnapped!” repeated Randy, in a hollow tone. The furniture man nodded his head assentingly. He was big and fat and had evidently come in a hurry. He had been blunt, but confused in telling his story. Now he took a long breath to begin again. Randy felt his heart sink. Everything had been going so well that the sudden news of an interruption to their buoyant progress chilled him through sheer contrast. He fancied all kinds of mishaps, and, seizing his visitor by the sleeve, pulled it in a worried way. “Tell me all about it—quick,” he demanded. “Thought I had, but I guess you didn’t get it straight. This Pep of yours was passing my place when I heard a woman shriek a bit ahead. She had left her child in a baby carriage while she went into a dry goods store. There came a whiff of wind down the street just as she came out. I don’t wonder she hollered out, for that baby carriage was shooting across the street like a feather in a tornado.” “But—Pep?” urged Randy, breathlessly. “What of him?”