youth, taking the old man’s hand and dragging him towards Stanley’s position.
“Land of sin!” exclaimed Abner in a dreamy voice. “Not ghosts! Here, and alive! Is it real, or be I crazy?”
“These wasps are very real,” panted Bub, forcing the old man to hasten his steps.
“But—but,” spluttered Abner, not sensing the ruse. “I don’t understand. I heard guns. Ye’re here. Why, Reddy! Be ye real?”
Stanley clapped his shoulder warmly. “Wake up,” he tersely commanded. “We have about a minute leeway. We’ve all escaped. It’s all real.”
“Glory be!” sobbed Abner, throwing an arm over each of their necks. “My boys! My boys! To think the younkers didn’t fergit the old man! To think ye pulled it off! I could larrup ye fer coming when I made the signal that I was in trouble and meant fer ye to keep away.”
“Compose yourself, Mr. Whitten,” begged Stanley. “We’re not free yet. They’ll be on our track very shortly. We are depending upon your skill to save us.”
This aroused Abner with a jerk, although he mumbled, “I’m ’bout starved. I ain’t seen
