# The Boy Scouts of the Air at Cape Peril/Chapter 19

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CHAPTER XIX
KNITTING UP THE CLUES
"Who's that?" demanded Hardy sharply when he heard a voice cry out in the darkness.
All three from the colliding auto were instantly on the alert.
"It's Cat! Cat Miller!" sang out the voice lustily. "Don't shoot! It's Cat."
"It is Cat!" assured Hatton excitedly.
Hardy, who, at the first sound, had drawn his revolver, now returned it to its holster, and yelled out: "Where in the dickens are you? Come on here!"
Cat bounded up and ran forward. As soon as his face came into the glare, it showed an expression of the greatest agitation.
"There was a man, a man, lame, trying to get into the machine," he panted out to the perturbed listeners. "He slipped down there!"
The boy stretched his hand toward the left road side. "I heard him! I saw him!"
His astounding news created a great stir ​among the new arrivals. Hardy and the deputy instantly drew their pistols, pulled the two boys up to the shelter of the machine, and, after extinguishing the light, managed to get from the youngster a coherent story of what he had seen.
All had crouched and dropped their voices to whispers.
"It must be him," declared the deputy.
Then followed a brief recital of what had gone on at Seagulls' Nest, of the extinguished light, Turner's excursion, and the discovery of the telltale key.
"The dastardly scoundrel!" exploded Hardy, in spite of himself. "That's his game, is it?"
The deputy urged absolute silence on all while he listened.
"Not safe to follow him till light," whispered the officer to Hardy. "If he's lame, he can't get far."
"Wonder if Turner winged him?"
He was concerned about what might have happened at Cape Peril.
"Look here," whispered the officer in Hardy's ear. "We must get these boys away from here."
​Hardy thought a moment, then he said in a low tone to the two lads:
"Here, boys, you get on to the house. Make a break for the shore and beat it back as fast as you can; and, when you get there, stay locked up till morning light. As soon as Turner turns up, tell him what's doing. Mr. King and I will watch here off by the road with an eye on the machine. No questions. Now go, and be quick!"
Cat was inclined to protest, but Hardy shut him up without ceremony, and the two boys, Cat leading, made a break for the shore and under the shelter of the sand bank started off for Seagulls' Nest.
"Great Gee, Legs! This is the dickens, ain't it?" said Cat, making himself heard against the wind when he felt they were at a safe distance.
"You're right it is!" returned Hatton.
"Who was that other man?" Cat was eager to know.
"That was the sheriff from Roanoke Island. He's after the crook. Father cabled him, and say, Cat, I found the boat that put 'em on the ​trail and—and—but I can't talk in this noise and watch my step at the same time. Wait till we get there."
When the pair reached the house, Miller opened the door, locked it carefully after them, and, exhorting Legs to back him up, made a thorough search of the lower floor. Everything appeared intact, and Luke was still busily snoring away in his cubicle. Then followed a thorough examination of the upper floor, with the assistance of the lamp. Nothing exciting there. A glance through the window showed the light still gleaming through the window of Cape Peril. On the heights beyond, another fire was glowing. To Legs' uneasy inquiries Cat explained this as probably another beacon.
Then they betook themselves to their bedroom and stretching out on their cots, started to swap yarns. First came Legs's find and its sequel; then Cat told of the killing of the shark.
"I might 'a been inside that sucker right this minute," speculated the narrator at the end of his shark tale, "if my foot had slipped. Gee! You were lucky Legs, he'd a swiped one of your props sure."
​Their own experiences exchanged, their minds turned to the future.
"No chance of that lame duck crawling away," assured Cat, with regard to the man in hiding, "and if he tries it, Hardy will sure wing him."
"We're not sure it's the same man yet," doubted Legs.
"I'd bet the airplane I expect to own some day on it," Cat declared.
"Well, it won't be long before we know, will it?"
"'Bout an hour or two," returned Cat, languidly.
For the last ten minutes, their conversation had been growing more and more forced. Both were worn out, and tired nature was gradually asserting itself.
A few more remarks and then the two yielded completely, their best intentions to hold out shattered. Without interference the garrison, three strong, including Luke, all fast asleep, held the fort until—