mounted and Bert saw that Bill's leg, as he stood beside his wheel, trembled with weariness.
"Where is this place?" Dolf asked impatiently.
"Another two minutes," Bert said, and took Bill's bicycle. "I can push both yours and mine." Bill flashed him a smile, stuck the crutch under his arm, and hobbled along the trail.
And so they came out into the clearing and advanced toward the cabin and the house of glass. Tom Woods sat on the doorstep smoking his pipe and mending a butterfly net. He took the pipe from his mouth and waved it above his head.
"Welcome!" he called. "The assassin arrives with his fellow conspirators. Advance, friends, and give the countersign."
"This fellow's Dolf Muller," said Bert.
The Butterfly Man held out his hand in greeting; but his eyes were on a boy and his crutch.
"My name's Bill Harrison," said the boy.
This time the handshake lasted for almost a full minute.
"Making the grade?" the man asked. It was a cryptic question, but Bill seemed to understand it.
"Trying to carry the ball," he answered.
The ghost of a smile came into the man's eyes. "Bill," he said softly, "I think you and I are going to hit it off."
He led the way into the cabin, and set down the butterfly net in a corner. Bill stopped at the
