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Nicholson, Meredith, 1866-1947

"The Port of Missing Men"


"It's half-past two. They didn't get off their message at Lamar, because
the office is closed and the operator gone, and they will keep out of the
valley and away from the big inn, because they are rather worried by this
time and not anxious to get too near Marhof. They've probably decided to
go to the next station below Lamar to do their telegraphing. Meanwhile
they haven't got me!"
"They had me and didn't want me," said Claiborne, mounting his own horse.
"They'll have a good many things they don't want in the next twenty-four
hours. If I hadn't enjoyed this business so much myself we might have had
some secret service men posted all along the coast to keep a lookout
for them. But it's been a great old lark. And now to catch them!"
Outside the preserve they paused for an instant.
"They're not going to venture far from their base, which is that inn and
post-office, where they have been rummaging my mail. I haven't studied
the hills for nothing, and I know short cuts about here that are not on
maps. They haven't followed the railroad north, because the valley
broadens too much and there are too many people.


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