uncomfortably, one signal was merely to locate him. If another came--

The lightning, flaming in a vivid sheet, revealed a lonely road ahead
and on the road by the farther hedge, a man desperately cranking a
long, dark car. The lamps of the car were unlighted.

With a yell of startled anger, the man who bore the bleeding marks of
Johnny's fingers redoubled his speed and darted crazily for the
roadway. Before he had reached it the man by the car had leaped
swiftly to the wheel and rolled away.

From the forest came again the signal: "Where are you?"

Johnny groaned. Frantically he tried the rebel again. It readily spat
its answer this time, an instantaneous duplicate of shots.

"I'm here. What do you want?"

In the lightning glare the man ahead made off wildly across the fields.

Running, Johnny cocked his ears for the familiar assurance of one shot.

"All right," it would mean; "I only wanted to know where you are," but
it did not come.

Instead--two shots again in rapid succession--an interval--and then
another.

"I am in serious trouble," barked the signal in the forest. "Come as
fast as you can."