a prisoner of the bandits.

"Oh," he cried, leaping to his feet and beginning to walk up and down
the room distractedly, "isn't there something we can do? This is
maddening."

"Calm down yourself, Frank," said Bob, always the cooler of the two in
a crisis. "If we can't do any better, at least we can wire to Jack's
father and find out in a few hours what happened."

At this moment the door was pushed open. A tall man of distinguished
appearance, still in the prime of life, and bearing a close
resemblance to Bob, entered the room. He glanced inquiringly at the
boys.

"Something gone wrong?" he asked. "What's the trouble?"

"Hello, Dad."

"Hello, Uncle George."

It was Mr. Temple, Bob's father and Frank's guardian, and there was
relief in the boys' voices as they greeted him. He always was so
capable in an emergency.

"Motored home at noon today," he said. "Guess I've got spring fever.
Anyhow, I couldn't stand it in the city. Della told me you were over
here and that you thought, perhaps, you would hear from the Hamptons
today." Della was Bob's younger sister, and the Temples' only other
child.