Upon the floor lay Skip Brodie, tied hand and foot, cursing and roaring like a madman. His pal cut the bonds, and, springing to his feet, Brodie dashed out of the cabin and ran through the woods like a deer, closely pressed by Denton. What could it all mean? Nick Carter called on them to stop, at the same time sending several bullets after them, none of which seemed to take effect. He tried to follow, but before going a hundred yards, the detective’s head began to pain him, and he was obliged to give up the chase. Returning to the cabin, Nick boldly entered, but he found no one there but Tambourine Jack, and the little fellow seemed to be almost as much bewildered as himself. “This beats Banhager, and Banhager beats all,” said Jack. “If this isn’t a pretty go, call me a liar.” “I don’t understand it,” exclaimed the detective. “Where can Hilton Field be? Surely they have not killed him?” “He’s missing,” responded Tambourine. “Gone off with a coon.” “Do you know anything about it?” Nick asked. “A little, very little,” answered Jack. “This here ranch belongs to a fellow who struggles along under the name of Sam Cole; Dick told me that coming up in the cars.” “Come down to the present; where is the banker?” “How should I know?” said the little fellow; “one thing certain, our two friends that took themselves off in such a hurry don’t know either.” “He certainly has not made his escape.” “Well, I rather think not.” “And Brodie was tied hand and foot. Did he say who did it?” “Yes, didn’t I tell you that before?” inquired Jack; “this culled person got Skip drunk, and when he awoke, he found himself tied up like a parcel of dry goods; Mr. Cole was standing in the door, arm in arm with the ole bloke. I should have liked to be here, just to listen to Skip saying his prayers at that time. Look, there is some one at the window; ’tis a coon.” Tambourine Jack pointed excitedly at the only window the cabin possessed. Nick Carter saw the man’s eyes, and, drawing his pistol, he left the hut, followed by the little fellow. They searched the clearing surrounding the cabin without catching a glimpse of the negro. The ground seemed to have opened and swallowed him. CHAPTER XIV. IN THE FLAMES. Nick Carter and his little friend remained in the cabin of Sam Cole until daybreak. Then they sought Skip Brodie and Dick Denton, but, although they searched the country for miles around and questioned everyone they met, not a trace of the fleeing villains could they find. Tired and hungry, they returned to the negro’s cabin, and, after a short rest, Nick Carter left for New York. Tambourine Jack had informed him that Denton said Wilbur was killed by Elmer Greer, and the latter intended leaving the country. It would never do to let the arch rogue escape, and Nick determined that he should not.