“Hullo!” exclaimed Jimsy, “somebody’s in trouble down there.  Maybe we’d better descend.  That is, if you girls aren’t scared?”

“Um—­well,” began Jess, but Peggy interrupted her: 

“Jess Bancroft, I’m ashamed of you.  It’s our duty to help out if we can.”

“At least if it gets too hot we can always retreat,” muttered Jimsy.

Under the covering of one of the lockers was a revolver.  Under Peggy’s directions Jimsy found it.  The next moment they were descending rapidly.  With hardly more noise than an alighting night bird, they dropped into the lane in which the auto was stalled.  As they touched ground the sound of harsh voices caught their ears: 

“Shell out now, if you don’t want to be half-killed!”

“Yes, come on.  Hand over your coin, or it’ll be the worse for you,” chimed in another ruffianly voice.

“Good gracious!” gasped Jess, “it’s a hold up!”

But now another voice came through the darkness.

“I suppose you fellows know that you are breaking the law and in danger of imprisonment if you are caught?”

“Now, what is there that’s familiar about that voice?” puzzled Peggy, racking her brains.

“Aw, don’t preach sermons to us, boss,” came one of the gruff voices, “we needs the money and we ain’t particular how we gits it, see.  Fork over now, or——­”

The sentence was never completed.  There was a sudden flash and a sharp report.  The man in the automobile had defended himself apparently, for there came the sound of a heavy body falling, and then his voice: 

“I hope I haven’t hurt you badly; but you brought it on yourself, as your companion can witness.”

The next instant, and just as Jimsy sprang forward from the clump of brush at the roadside which had hitherto concealed the aero party—­there came a heavy rush of feet toward them.  A dark form, running pantingly, appeared.

Jimsy, with a dexterous outward thrust of his foot, tripped the fleeing man, who came down heavily in the center of the road and started howling for mercy.

In the meantime, the occupant of the automobile had climbed down, and detaching one of the lamps, examined the wounded man lying in the road beyond Jimsy’s capture.  As the rays of his light swung to and fro they hovered for an instant on Peggy’s white, strained face leaning forward above Jimsy’s prisoner, upon whose neck the redoubtable young Bancroft was now sitting.

“Miss Prescott, by all that’s wonderful!” came an amazed voice.

There was no mistaking that bold, straightforward voice now.  It was James Bell, the mining magnate and their kind friend.

“Oh, Mr. Bell,” cried Peggy, half hysterically, “we’re so glad you’ve come!”

CHAPTER XX.

AN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

As Mr. Bell spoke, the fellow who had apparently been shot, leaped to his feet and was about to make off, but the Westerner’s iron hand seized him by the scruff of the neck, and brought him up “all standing.”  Simultaneously, Jimsy’s captive gave a wrench and a twist and would have escaped but for Peggy.