“Hush, please! Not so loud!” begged Tom, slowing up his car and guiding it behind a clump of trees not far from the house. “If we’re going to make a rescue it might be well to take these kidnappers by surprise.” “Bless my ear trumpet, I never thought of that!” whispered the odd man. “Of course! Certainly! Yes! Quiet does it!” “Can you use a gun?” asked Tom curtly of the tramp. “Well, boss, I’m not a very good shot, but——” “I don’t believe there’ll be any need of shooting,” interrupted Tom, “but there’s no use taking any chances. Here,” and he handed the tramp an automatic pistol, reserving one for himself and giving Mr. Damon another. “We may have an easy time and we may have a hard one,” said Tom. “But, whatever it is, I’m going to rescue Ned!” “Doesn’t Koku want a gun?” asked the tramp, noting that the giant carried no weapon. “Me no shoot. Me scrunch um in my hands me catch!” muttered the giant, opening and closing his immense fists. It was answer enough. “We’ll approach from four sides at once,” decided Tom as they began to creep cautiously toward the old farmhouse. “Separate now. You to the east, Mr. Damon; you west, Tagg; you south, Koku; and I’ll take the north side. When I whistle we’ll rush the place.” “Correct!” said Mr. Damon in a low voice. Waiting until he was sure they were in their places, Tom looked toward the old house. It seemed deserted, quiet and lonely. But from behind the sagging shutters of the grimy and broken windows evil eyes might be peering out. Tom gave a low whistle. On his left he could hear Mr. Damon beginning to run forward and on his right he caught the sound of the advance of Tagg. Then Tom began to run, and beyond the house he caught a glimpse of the giant lurching forward. Together the four searchers reached the four sides of the old house, but still there was no sign of life. The front door was on Tom’s side and, his weapon ready, he ran up the steps. He tried the door. To his surprise, it gave and he pushed it open. At the same time he heard Koku crash through the open door on the south. “This way!” cried Tom to Mr. Damon and the tramp. “Rush ’em!” An instant later they were in the house. “Surrender!” yelled Tom, though he saw no one. “You’re surrounded! Surrender!” Still no reply. A hurried search of the first floor revealed no one. A look through the second floor was likewise unsuccessful. The attic revealed not a soul and the cellar was tenantless. “We’re too late!” exclaimed Tom Swift. “They’ve gone! But they have been here!” he declared, pointing into a room with iron bars over the only window. “They’ve been here and I believe Ned was a prisoner here. Yes, he was!” he cried, picking something up in a corner. “How do you know Ned was here?” asked Mr. Damon. “This is his stickpin,” Tom replied, showing a scarf ornament of silver and jade. “Ned’s been here all right. But they have taken him away. We’re too late!” “What’s to be done now?” asked Tagg.