CHAPTER XX--A NEW CAPTIVITY

"Nelson, could you possibly be mistaken?"

"No, sir, positively not."

Andy had come to a dead stop with the automobile. He stared blankly at the prospect before them. The site of the Collins farmhouse was a flat stretch of waste and ruin. Grass, weeds, trees, fences showed the ravages of a great fire.

Mr. Webb looked dreadfully disappointed. His face had become almost pale. Andy shared his disquietude, but he could simply say:

"I am very sorry."

"You did all you could, Nelson," responded his companion. "Here comes some one. We will question him a little."

A farm laborer with a hoe across his shoulder sauntered down the road. Andy hailed him. As he came nearer to them Mr. Webb said:

"My man, what has been happening around here?"

"Don't you see?" queried the man, with a comprehensive wave of his hand across the bleak ruins. "Fire."

"This is the Collins farm, isn't it?"

"It was," answered the man. "The fire took them in the night a week ago."

"And burned everything about the place?"

"Down to the pig styes."

"Where are the Collins people?"

"Gone over into Bowen County until they can arrange to build again."

"Start up, Nelson," ordered Mr. Webb. "It's a waste of time to loiter around here."

Mr. Webb felt cruelly disappointed. Andy saw this and was sorry for him. He glanced at the spot where he remembered the old shed to have stood. Even the tree that had sheltered it had burned to a crisp.

"Where am I to go?" inquired Andy.

"You had better strike for Rushville," replied Mr. Webb. "From what I remember, you can get a train to Montrose earlier than on the Central."

"I am to go on to John Parks?"

"That's the programme," said Mr. Webb, trying to appear cheerful; "why not?"

Andy reflected seriously for a moment or two. Finally he spoke:

"Mr. Webb," he said; "I hardly feel right to leave you on my bond for that big amount. Something might happen so that I could not appear for trial--trickery, or a dozen things."

"And because you have not succeeded in recovering that pocketbook, you suppose I'm going to desert you, Nelson?" inquired the gentleman.

"You are not the man to do a single mean thing," replied Andy, "but, with all your troubles, and me being a stranger----"

"Drop it, Nelson. You have tried to be the best friend in the world to me, and I'd go on your bond for double the amount I have. You are to go straight on to Montrose, win that airship race, and when you have got that off your mind we will have a talk together."

"You are a good, kind man," said Andy, with fervor, "and I'd walk barefooted on hot coals to get you back that pocketbook."

When they reached Rushville, Mr. Webb took charge of the automobile. He made many encouraging references to the coming airship race, and when he left Andy at the railroad station shook his hand in a friendly way.

Andy made a disappointing discovery as soon as he consulted the train schedules. A change in the service of the road had been made only that week, and there was no train south until seven o'clock. It was now three, and he would have to wait four hours.

"I won't be able to get home until after dark," reflected the lad. "I hoped to have an hour or two of daylight for practice, but this knocks my plans awry. Well, as it is, this is a good deal better than missing the race altogether."

It was quite dark when the train reached the limits of Montrose. It stopped at a crossing, and Andy got off and made a short cut for the Parks camp.

His course led him past the large aviation field. Andy was anxious to report to Mr. Parks as soon as possible, but unusual light and animation about the big enclosure aroused his curiosity and interest, and he passed the gate and strolled by the various aerodromes.

Everything was "the race!" Groups were discussing it, contestants were oiling up their machines and exploiting the merits of the others. An hour passed by before Andy realized it. He came to halt in front of the last tent in the row, turned to retrace his steps, and then suddenly halted.

"I'd like to know what the Duske crowd is about," he reflected, glancing towards the isolated camp which he had surreptitiously visited only a few nights previous. "Mr. Parks might be glad to know, too. I'll do a little skirmishing and find out what I can."

Andy crossed a dark space. Lights were moving about the Duske camp, and these served as a guide. He neared the fence surrounding the camp, got over it, and cautiously approached the large tent which held the airship he had inspected on his first stealthy visit to the place.

Suddenly Andy tripped and fell. His foot had caught in a wire stretched taut under the grass. As he went headlong across the grass, a bell began to jingle, and he realized that the wire was one of many probably set to trap intruders. At all events, before he could get to his feet two men ran out of the tent.

One of these was Duske. The other was his companion of the evening when Andy had previously visited the place. They pounced on him promptly.

"Another spy," spoke Duske, dragging the captive toward the tent.

"They're getting thick," observed his companion. "Those fellows at the big camp are mighty curious to pry into the secrets of our craft here. Hello! why, Duske, this is the same fellow we caught snooping around here three nights since."

"Eh? Oh, it's you again, is it?"

They had come inside the tent. The light burning there revealed Andy fully. Without letting go of him Duske scowlingly surveyed his captive.

"Say, Duske," spoke the other man quickly, "it's Parks' boy, and he's the one who won the pony prize."

"Was that you?" demanded Duske; "are you Andy Nelson?"

"Suppose so?" queried Andy.

"Then you're the fellow who is going to take Parks' place in the race to-morrow?"

"I guess that is right," affirmed Andy.

"No," cried Duske, showing his teeth, and looking fierce and malicious, "it's wrong, dead wrong, as you're going to find out. Fetch me some rope."

"Hold on," objected Andy, "you aren't going to tie me up?"

He put up a manful struggle and very nearly got away. The two powerful men were more than his equal, however, and in a very few minutes Andy found himself tied hand and foot.

Duske and his companion carried him bodily along through the tent, past the flying machine, and threw him onto a mattress lying on the ground in a small compartment partitioned off with canvas. Duske tested the ropes that bound Andy, gave them another twist, and went out into the main tent.

"This looks like luck," observed the companion of Duske.

"Yes, if we've got the bearings right," replied the other, "Are you sure he was scheduled to take Parks' place in the race?"

"Of course I am. Hasn't Tyrrell told us already about his getting into trouble somewhere, and couldn't be here to make the race? Hasn't Parks hired Tyrrell in his place?"

"Then how comes the boy to be here? I don't like the looks of things at all."

"Tyrrell will be here before long. He can post us if there is any break in our arrangements."

The two men passed out of hearing. Andy made one or two efforts to loosen his bonds, found them unusually secure, and gave up the experiment. What his captors had said startled and disturbed him considerably.

"Mr. Parks doesn't expect me to show up in time to make the race, and this man they talked about, Tyrrell, is going to take my place," reflected Andy. "He is a friend of the people here, and that certainly means harm for Mr. Parks."

Andy worried himself a good deal during the next hour, imagining all kinds of plots on the part of Duske and his friends to prevent the _Racing Star_ from winning the prize.

Finally Andy heard voices in the large tent. His name was spoken, and he listened intently to catch what was said.

"If that's so, and it's really Andy Nelson," sounded a new voice, "it's funny, for up to this morning he was in jail at Princeville."

"Then he's escaped, or got free somehow," answered Duske. "He's that boy of Parks' who was the winner in the dash for the pony prize."

"If he is," came the reply, "you want to hold him a close prisoner till the big race is over."