Betty and Bob, with Uncle Dick and the English girl, left the train at the junction and boarded another for New York City in some confidence of reaching their destination in good season.

The train, however, was late.  It seemed merely to creep along for miles and miles.  Luckily they had secured berths, and while they slept the delayed train did most of its creeping.

But in the morning they were dismayed to find that they were already two hours late and that it would be impossible for the train to pick up those two hours before reaching the Grand Central Terminal in New York City.

“Now, hold your horses, young people!” advised Mr. Gordon.  “We are not beaten yet.  The San Salvador does not leave her dock until eleven at the earliest.  It may be several hours later.  I have wired to Miss Bellethorne aboard the ship and in care of the Toscanelli Opera Company as well.  I do not know the hotel at which Miss Bellethorne has been staying.”

“But, Uncle Dick!” cried Betty, who seemed to have thought of every chance that might arise, “suppose Ida’s aunt wants to take her along to Brazil?  Her passport——­”

“Can be vised at the British consulate on Whitehall Street in a very few minutes.  I have examined Ida’s passport, and there is no reason why there should be any trouble over it at all.  She is a minor, you see, and if her aunt wishes to assume responsibility for her no effort will be made to keep her in the country, that is sure.”

“Then it all depends upon Ida’s aunt,” sighed Betty.

“And our reaching the dock in time,” amended Uncle Dick.  “I would not wish to interfere with Miss Bellethorne’s business engagement in Rio Janeiro; but I am anxious for her to authorize me, on behalf of her niece, to get legal matters in train for the recovery of that beautiful mare.  I believe that she belongs—­every hair and hoof of her—­to our young friend here.  There has been some trickery in the case.”

“Oh, Uncle Dick!” shrieked Betty.

“When I went to see that poor little cripple Hunchie Slattery he told me that the very papers that were given to Mr. Bolter with the horse must prove Ida’s ownership at one time of the mare.  There was some kind of a quit-claim deed signed by her name, and that signature must be a forgery.

“The horse could never have been sold in England, for the Bellethorne stable was too well known there.  The men who grabbed the string of horses left when Ida’s father died are well-to-do, and Mr. Bolter will be able to get his money back, even if he has already paid the full price agreed upon for Ida Bellethorne.

“I am convinced,” concluded Uncle Dick, “that the girl has something coming to her.  And it may even pay Miss Bellethorne to remain in the United States instead of going to Rio Janeiro until the matter of the black mare’s ownership is settled beyond any doubt.”

When the train finally reached New York, Uncle Dick did not even delay to try to reach the dock by telephone.  He bundled his party into a taxicab and they were transported to the dock where the San Salvador lay.