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.
The girl seized a small nickled wrench out of the _Golden Butterfly_. In
the dark it looked not unlike a pistol.
"You'd b-b-b-better stay w-w-w-where you are," said Peggy, in a voice
which, though rather shaky, was still courageous.
The fellow took the hint, and just then Mr. Bell came up with his capture,
who had merely been "playing possum.
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