If he but had a light! At once he thought of his small electric torch. Grasping it in his left hand, he leveled it at the spot where the burning eye had been, and gripping the clasp knife in his right, threw on the button.

As the shaft of light flashed across the canvas, he stared for a second, then his hand trembled with surprise and excitement.

“Panther Eye, as I live!” he exclaimed. “You old rascal! What are you doing here?”

The former companion, for it was not a great cat, but a man, and none other than Panther Eye, fellow free-lance in many a previous adventure, stared at him through large smoked glasses, a smile playing over his lips.

“Johnny Thompson, I’ll be bound! Some luck to you. What are you doing here?”

“Looking for something.”

“Same here, Johnny.”

“And I’ll stay with this circus until I find it,” said Johnny.

“Same here, Johnny. Shake on it.”

Pant crawled over the swaying car and extended a hand. Johnny shook it solemnly.

“Slept any?” asked Pant.

“A little.”

“Better sleep some more, hadn’t we?”

“I’m willing.”

“It’s a go.”

Pant crept back to his hole in the canvas; Johnny sank back into his. He was not to sleep at once, however. His mind was working on many problems. Not the least of these was the question of Panther Eye’s presence on the circus train. This strange fellow, who appeared to be endowed with a capacity for seeing in the dark, was always delving in dark corners, searching out hidden mysteries. What mystery could there be about a circus? What, indeed? Was not Johnny on the trail of a puzzling mystery himself?

Having reasoned thus 

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