“He saw it in a flash. The woman stood motionless and screaming. This Pep made a sprint. I never saw anything done so splendidly. In a flash he slid over the pavement—just seemed to fly over the street, making for that baby carriage. No wonder he hurried and no wonder the woman screamed, for exactly at that instant a great red touring car came tearing around the corner. It held the chauffeur and a fine looking old gentleman, who just rose up in his seat with a yell as he saw that baby carriage directly in the path of the machine. “There wasn’t even time for the chauffeur to move the wheel. I actually shut my eyes, thinking the smash was bound to come. I don’t know how the lad did it, but when I opened them, just cold with horror, there he was lying on the ground and the baby carriage spinning safe and sound across the street.” “How badly was Pep hurt?” inquired Randy, his face pale with suspense. “I heard someone in the crowd say his wrist was broken. It seems, at the risk of his own life, he had made that dash for the baby carriage and given it a push out of the way of the auto just as it was pouncing down upon it.” “Where is Pep now?” asked Randy. “Why, that is the queer part of it. The passenger in the machine jumped out and picked him up. He lifted him into the auto. He didn’t seem to want to go with the man, but they speeded up and I supposed they were going to bring him here, or to the nearest doctor, or the hospital. A police officer came up right after the accident on a motorcycle. He made some inquiries, took some notes and went away again. Just now he came back and said that he could find no trace of machine or boy, and that he had learned that the auto had been driven out of town on the west road as fast as it could go. Don’t you see—kidnapped!” “I don’t!” cried Randy almost frantically, “Wasn’t it enough that they ran him down, without carrying him away nobody knows where? Oh, I must get straight on his track—I must find Pep!” “The police didn’t,” suggested the furniture man. “I don’t care for that—I will!” “Mebbe I’d better give you my address,” said his visitor. “There’s been several accidents here lately. It’s mostly tourists passing through the town who are reckless about how they drive—rich old fellows who don’t value life or limb, and get out of the way fast as they can when they’ve done any damage. I suppose the man who owns the machine that hurt your friend had heard of how one or two before him had been arrested and fined and forced to pay heavy damages, and just thought he’d grab up the lad and get him and himself out of the way before any investigation was made.” “It’s shameful!” exclaimed Randy, wrought up now to the highest pitch of excitement and indignation. “Poor Pep! He may be suffering tortures and all those inhuman wretches think about is getting clear of being found out. I’ll find him—I’ll run down his kidnappers and bring them to account, even if the police can’t.”