There was no danger of pursuit by a lame man, and that any damage could be done by a bullet fired in the dark seemed equally unreasonable. Ambush seemed a safe proposition.
So the boy slipped softly down to the beach and, by the dim starlight, kept well up out of the way of the rolling surf. Once the thought came to him, "How 'bout it if there's a gang of crooks waiting there?"
Then he said to himself after a moment:
"I'm on my way and I'll keep on my way; that's Cat Miller."
Presently he had reached a point recognizable by landmarks as just opposite the meeting place of the inland extending road and the path that skirted the coast. Climbing up the bank, the boy stretched himself out and lay with head cautiously raised and ears alert. In case of any alarm, he knew he could slip down the bank and make off without difficulty in the darkness. The wind, sweeping over him, had little chill to it. He could stand that indefinitely.
He looked back in the direction of the slowly dying glow and listened. For ten minutes, perhaps, he heard nothing. Then suddenly, borne
