"There is Allen now!" cried Paul, joyfully. "Hi, Allen! This way, quick!" he added, elevating his voice.
"All right, Paul, my boy!" came in a cheery voice from the elder of the Winthrops, as he dashed up on his faithful mare. "What's wanted?"
"The horses have been stolen!"
"Phew!" It was a low and significant whistle that Allen Winthrop emitted, and the pleasant look on his fine features gave way to one of deep concern.
"Stolen!" he said at last. "When? By whom?"
"We don't know," replied Paul. "We just got back from the river a few minutes ago and found the barn door broken open and both horses gone."
"And no clew?"
"We found this."
Allen Winthrop caught up the silver cross quickly and gazed at it for the fraction of a minute. Then he muttered something under his breath.
"Did you ever see this cross before?" asked Paul.
"No, but I have heard father tell of it," was the answer. "It is the cross the old Sol Davids gang
