CHAPTER I
A DARING LEAP

Down the road came plunging a runaway horse, his eyes blazing and his mouth flecked with foam.

In the light buggy that rocked and bounced behind him, threatening at any moment to overturn, stood a young man, sawing at the reins with all his strength. But though he was stalwart and vigorous, his strength availed nothing against the power of the maddened brute.

The man’s eyes glanced from side to side, as though he were planning to jump. But at the fearful rate at which he was going, a leap would almost certainly have meant broken bones or a broken neck. He seemed to abandon the thought, and put the last remnant of his overtaxed strength in one more frantic tug at the reins.

A little way up the road, coming in his direction, were three young men. They had evidently been on a fishing excursion, as was attested by their rods and a big string of finny trophies. They were laughing and chaffing each other, and evidently on the best of terms with themselves and with life.

The thunder of approaching hoofs made itself heard, and they looked at each other questioningly.

“That fellow seems to be in a hurry,” remarked Phil Strong.

“He sure does,” returned Dick Weston. “Mazeppa or Paul Revere had nothing on him.”

“Just burning up the road and breaking all speed laws,” commented Tom Hadley, the third of the trio.

They turned a bend in the road just then, and broke into exclamations of alarm, as they saw the horse tearing toward them.

“The man will be killed,” shouted Tom, as they instinctively jumped to the side of the road, which at this point was comparatively narrow, bordered on one side by trees and on the other by underbrush, back of which a little brook purled along.

On came the frenzied brute, yielding not a particle to the strain on the reins.

Just as he came within ten feet of the group, Phil stiffened himself for a spring. The next instant he had launched himself in the air at the horse’s bridle. His aim was good, and his right hand clenched the leather while his left gripped the mane.

He had leaped in the direction the horse was going, and this to some extent lessened the force of the shock. All the same it was terrific, and his muscles strained taut until it seemed as though they would burst. He held on however with a grip of iron, swinging himself up so as to escape the lashing hoofs and at the same time making the animal bear his whole weight.

The horse plunged wildly, shaking his head to get rid of his burden, but Phil held on with grim determination. His left hand slid from the mane down over the horse’s nostrils which he compressed with all his strength.

Choking for breath the panic stricken animal reared and threw himself to one side, at the same time overturning the buggy. The driver was thrown out, striking on his head, while the horse was brought to his knees.

All this had happened in a few seconds. Paralyzed for a moment by the lightning quickness of Phil’s action, Dick and Tom had quickly grasped the situation and rushed to his aid. Scarcely had the horse gone down than both were at the side of their comrade, helping him to hold down the frightened animal, who was making desperate efforts to get his feet.

They held him long enough for him to know that he had met his masters. Then they hastily unbuckled his harness and as the horse scrambled to his feet, Tom led him to a tree and tied him fast, while Phil and Dick hurried to the side of the injured driver, who still lay there limp and unconscious.

They were experts at first aid, and were greatly relieved as they ran their hands over him to find that no bones were broken. Blood was flowing from a gash in his head and running down over his face.

“Let’s get him to the brook and bathe his head and face,” suggested Phil, who was still panting from the effects of his tussle.

“Lucky if his skull isn’t fractured,” remarked Dick, as he lent a hand, seconded by Tom, who had by this time secured the horse and come to the help of his comrades.

Together they lifted the man and bore him through the underbrush to the bank of the brook. There they laid him down, and while one of them rubbed the wrists and hands, the others washed his head and face and dashed cold water on him in copious quantities. Phil carefully washed out the gash on the head into which the dust and grit of the road had been rubbed, and stripping enough linen from the sleeve of his shirt to make a bandage, carefully bound up the wound.

Before long the result of their administrations became apparent. There was a fluttering of the eyelids, and soon the man opened his eyes and looked wonderingly around. His glance fell on the boys, who were watching him anxiously.

He tried to speak, but his voice was thick and the words came with difficulty. Phil stopped him with a reassuring gesture.

“Don’t try to talk yet, old man,” he said. “You’ve had a nasty tumble but there are no bones broken and you’ll be all right when you’ve rested up a little. Just take it easy for a few minutes and give your head a chance to clear.”

The injured man relaxed and lay for a little while with his eyes closed, collecting his strength. And now for the first time the boys had a chance to take a good look at him.

He was a tall muscular man of athletic build, lean as a greyhound and with not an ounce of superfluous flesh upon him. His face was bronzed as that of an Indian and spoke of a life spent largely in the open. There was a smartness in the set of his shoulders that suggested military training. His nose was straight and his jaw firm. There were quizzical lines about his mouth that indicated the possession of a sense of humor. Altogether it was a likable face, and the boys as they watched him mentally classed him as a “regular fellow.”

This impression was deepened when the man again opened his eyes. They were no longer clouded but clear and penetrating, eyes that looked directly at one, eyes that indicated a frank and straightforward character.

“I guess I’ve about got this thing straight now,” the man remarked with a faint smile, as he raised himself on one elbow. “For a little while my head was buzzing like a flywheel. But I remember now trying to hold the horse in and one of you young fellows flinging yourself at the brute’s head.”

His eyes traveled over the boys and rested on Phil.

“You’re the one that did it,” he said.

“Oh,” replied Phil deprecatingly, “I just happened to be the nearest when the horse came tearing along.”

“It was a mighty plucky thing to do, I’ll tell the world,” said the stranger with gratitude and admiration in his voice. “There isn’t one fellow in a thousand that would have taken the chance. It was a gamble with death, all right. I can’t thank you enough. You probably saved my life.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Phil, throwing the matter off lightly. “You might have stopped him yourself after a while. He couldn’t have run on forever. But how are you feeling now? Arms and legs all right?”

“Sore as the mischief but nothing broken,” was the reply, as he moved them about. “I see my head was cut,” he went on, as he raised his hand to the bandage.

“Rather deep cut,” remarked Dick, “but nothing to worry about as long as the skull wasn’t fractured.”

“Oh, that skull has had many a hard knock in its time,” the man said with a smile. “I guess it was pretty thick to begin with and it’s been toughened by what’s happened to it since.”

He raised himself to a sitting position and the boys helped to settle him comfortably with his back to a tree.

“I’m afraid I’m taking up your time and interfering with your plans,” he said apologetically, as he glanced from one to the other.

“Not a bit of it,” Phil hastened to reassure him. “We’d just been on a fishing trip and were on our way home. We’ve got all the time there is, and we’re going to stick around until we see you safe to your home or hotel or wherever it is you want to go.”

“That’s mighty good of you,” said the stranger gratefully. “I was figuring on staying at Castleton over night.”

“That’s where we hail from,” replied Phil, “and as soon as you’ve rested a bit more we’ll harness up the horse and drive you over, I guess he’s had his fill of running away.”

“The old pirate was sure full of ambition,” laughed Tom. “He tore along – ”

He stopped suddenly, for at the word “pirate” the stranger had straightened up like a flash and clapped his hand convulsively to his breast.

CHAPTER II
BY LAND AND SEA

The sudden movement of the stranger rather startled the boys and piqued their curiosity. They looked at him and at each other inquiringly.

The man thrust his hand in the breast pocket of his coat and felt for something. That he had found it was evident from the look of profound relief that came into his face.

“Think you had lost your pocketbook in your tumble?” asked Phil with a smile.

“It wasn’t money I was thinking of,” was the reply. “Something that one of you said reminded me of some valuable papers that I had stowed away and that I wouldn’t lose for a good deal. But they’re just where I put them.

“My introduction to you young fellows was rather sudden,” he went on, with a grin that displayed two rows of strong even teeth, “and this is about the first chance I’ve had to tell you what my name is and where I hail from. My name’s Jack Benton, and I am, or was up to about three weeks ago, a member of the United States Marine Corps.”

The boys acknowledged the introduction and gave him their names in return.

“So you’re a Marine,” remarked Phil with great interest. “That’s a branch of the service that has always appealed to me more than any other. There’s lots of adventure and you go everywhere and see everything.”

“That’s putting it pretty strong,” laughed Benton, “but you’re not so far out of the way at that. I’ve been in the service for about eight years, and there’s scarcely a port of the world that I haven’t been in at some time or other. I’ve seen all sorts of people and been mixed up in all kinds of adventures. There’s plenty of hard work, but take it from me there’s very little monotony in the life of a marine. The soldiers’ work is on the land. The sailors’ is on the sea. But the marines do their work on both land and sea.”

“The Marine Corps did great work in the war.” said Tom admiringly.

“They weren’t so bad,” replied Benton modestly. “People say they did pretty good work at Chateau-Thierry, and they weren’t exactly absent when Belleau Wood was swept clear of the enemy. But then all our American boys did well in every branch of the service. Since the war things haven’t been quite so lively with the marines, though we haven’t had much chance to get rusty down in San Domingo. That’s where I’ve been for the last two years, and it was there that my term of service expired about three weeks ago. It’s only about a week since I landed in New York.”

“You seem so fond of the service that after a little vacation I suppose you’ll re-enlist,” observed Dick.

Benton hesitated, and almost unconsciously his hand again rested on his breast pocket.

“I may and I may not,” he said slowly and with a touch of embarrassment. “The service, as I said, is full of adventure, and adventure is the breath of life to me. But just at present I’m planning an adventure on my own hook, the biggest one of my life – so big in fact that if I told you about it you might think I was crazy. I – I – ”

And while with the keenest interest they stand listening for the expected disclosure, it may be well for the benefit of those who have not read the preceding volumes of this series to tell more fully who the boys were and what had been their adventures up to the time this story opens.

Phil Strong was the son of the leading physician in Castleton, a thriving manufacturing town in the Middle West. Phil had been born and brought up there, and was a general favorite, especially with the young fellows of his own age. He was now in his nineteenth year, stalwart, six feet tall and as straight as an arrow, He was of fair complexion, brown-haired, and had merry blue eyes that could gleam with laughter or grow hard and cold as steel at anything or anyone that aroused his indignation. He was a leader in athletic sports and a tower of strength on his baseball nine and football eleven. He was straightforward, fearless and truthful, a steadfast friend and a formidable enemy.

Dick Weston, his closest friend, was the son of the cashier of the Castleton bank. He was of about the same age as Phil, and from their earliest boyhood they had been the closest of chums. Dick was impulsive and oftener needed the brake than the spur. He had less initiative than Phil, but could always be depended on to back his friend to the limit. In any crisis requiring quick thinking, Phil acted like lightning, but Dick was usually a pretty close second.

Tom Hadley hailed from Chicago, which he believed to be the only town on earth – a conviction he was always ready to assert and maintain. He was of a different type physically from the others, being rotund and stocky, while they were tall and athletic. He was full of jokes and fun, and nobody could be long depressed when Tom was one of the party.

Another friend of all three was Steve Elwood, who at the time happened to be in New York, his native city. He felt about this very much as Tom did about Chicago, and arguments flew thick and fast when they got together. Steve was freckle-faced and red-headed, and had the hair-trigger temper that often goes with that combination. Like Kipling’s Fuzzy-Wuzzy, he was full of “’ot sand and ginger,” and it was advisable to give him a clear track when once he got started. With it all, he was frank and generous, and devotedly attached to the three friends, with whom he had shared many perils.

A special link that drew the boys still closer together was their common interest in radio. That wonderful new science found no more fervent devotees than they. Almost all their spare moments were spent in increasing their knowledge of its countless marvels, and they had become expert in both receiving and sending. So absorbed did they become that they had gained the name of the “Radio Boys,” and soon it became a matter of course for Castleton folk to refer to them in that way when they were mentioned together. They saw the possibilities of the science, and worked at it not merely as a pastime, but because they had about decided to make it their lifelong profession.

The boys were red-blooded, all-alive young Americans and full of love for adventure. How that zest led them into many perils; how by a curious combination of circumstances they found themselves embarked on the hazardous work of the Secret Service; how their work led them into the Everglades of Florida, where they encountered danger from beasts and reptiles and still more deadly criminals; how often they came within a hair’s breadth of death and yet finally came out triumphant – these things are told in the first volume of this series, entitled: “The Radio Boys in the Secret Service; or Running Down the Counterfeiters.”

Shortly after their return, the bank at Castleton was the victim of a daring holdup. Fifty thousand dollars were stolen and Dick’s father, the cashier, was wounded. It was learned that “Muggs” Murray, the leader of the gang, had been seen in Texas. About the same time the Radio Boys, who were expert aviators, had an invitation to enter the flying service in connection with the Texas Rangers, who were patrolling the troubled Mexican border. The opportunity for more adventure, combined with the chance that they might get on the trail of the robber leader, proved too strong an allurement to be resisted, and they were soon in the thick of the fighting with guerillas along the Rio Grande. How narrowly they escaped death on the land and in the air; their thrilling rescue of prisoners held by the enemy; how Phil himself was taken captive and held for ransom and the part that radio played in his escape; how “Muggs” Murray was tracked and brought to justice can be seen in the second volume of this series, entitled: “The Radio Boys in the Flying Service; or, Held for Ransom by Mexican Bandits.”

They had only been home a few weeks from this last experience when in this singular manner they had been brought in contact with Benton, this other soldier of fortune, who had declared that adventure was the breath of life to him. To all of them had come the impression that this was more than a chance meeting, and that in some way yet to be defined their future was to be bound up with his. It was this feeling that made them await with such intentness the words that he had seemed on the point of speaking.

For a full minute Benton seemed to be debating with himself. Then caution seemed to gain the upper hand, and he looked at them with a whimsical smile that was half apologetic.

“I guess the thing will keep,” he remarked, “and anyway I’m too groggy just now to tell you clearly just what I have in my mind. But I sure do want to see more of you fellows, if you’ll let me.”

“Sure thing,” replied Phil heartily, and the others echoed him. “Just now I think the best thing you can do is to get to town, have a doctor look you over and then settle down for a good night’s rest. Then tomorrow perhaps we can get together again. That is, if your business doesn’t make it necessary to get away from Castleton in a hurry.”

“Not at all,” answered Benton, as he got a little unsteadily to his feet. “In fact, I think Castleton will be the end of my present trip, though I didn’t think so when I started out this morning.”

The remark was rather cryptic, but the boys forbore any further questioning and busied themselves with harnessing up the horse, which seemed by this time to be in a thoroughly subdued frame of mind.

There was not room for all in the buggy and it was arranged that Phil should drive with Benton to the town, while Dick and Tom should follow on foot.

On their way in, Phil stopped at the first doctor’s office they came across and luckily found the physician in. He gave Benton a thorough examination and found that, outside of bruises and a general shaking up, there was nothing serious the matter with him. A day or two of rest was his only prescription.

Phil invited Benton to put up at his home as a guest, and assured him of a welcome. The latter, however, declined with thanks, feeling a little shy about his “bunged-up condition,” as he expressed it, but promised to come up to Phil’s house the following night. At his request, Phil drove him to a good hotel. Then he left the horse and buggy in the care of the hostler and turned toward home.

On his way there he fell in with Dick and Tom coming in with the string of fish that, in the pressure of more important things, Phil had almost forgotten.

Phil swung into step with them, and they plunged at once into a discussion of the exciting events of the afternoon.

“Queer, wasn’t it,” said Dick, as he paused for a moment in front of Phil’s home before separating from his comrades, “how his hand flew to his breast at something Tom said?”

“It was odd,” agreed Tom. “I remember that I spoke of the horse as an old pirate. Nothing particular in that. But at the word ‘pirate’ Benton jumped as though he were shot.”