Uncle Ruben Edwards was so highly exasperated at his nephew, and so fully determined to punish him for his refusal to live with him as a bound boy, that he had thought of nothing else during the past week, and he could think of nothing else now; consequently, he did not notice the peculiar look with which the sheriff regarded him.

Mr. Newton knew very well why it was that George’s relative took so much interest in the boy’s affairs; he did not believe Mr. Stebbins’ story, except in so far as it was corroborated by Dick Langdon’s; and he had already made up his mind that he was wasting time there, and that he would return to the village and look elsewhere for the robbers; but he did not do it, for he was nearer to obtaining a clue than he thought he was.

“’Tain’t worth while to go into the shanty, seein’ that there ain’t no place there to hide things in,” said Uncle Ruben, as he got off his horse and picked up a stout stick. “Take this here, an’ poke around in the leaves, an’ jest as like as not, you’ll find something.”

“I don’t want it,” answered the officer. “If you think there is any stolen property concealed about here, you had better look around and find it yourself.”

This was a decided snub, but Uncle Ruben was not at all abashed by it. He took a peep into the cabin, and then went around behind it, followed by the sheriff and all his party.

Bob Howard held back, and, by the aid of some mysterious schoolboy telegraphy, brought his friend Dick to his side.

“Well, Bob, isn’t that a nice uncle for any decent boy to have?” said Dick. “If I were in George’s place, I wouldn’t acknowledge the relationship. He acts for all the world as though he wanted to find some evidence against his nephew. But what is the matter with you? Your face is a yard long.”

“They’re going to find something around there,” replied Bob, in an earnest whisper. “You hear me? As sure as you live, they are going to find something!”

“No!” exclaimed Dick, who knew by the expression on his friend’s face that the latter had some good reason for being so positive.

“But I say they are. Look here. While you were telling your story, those three fellows acted as though they were frightened nearly out of their wits. Benson trembled like a leaf, and Wallace and Forbes were as white as ghosts. They showed their guilt so very plainly that it is a wonder to me that those around them didn’t notice it.”

“Perhaps they were giving all their attention to me,” observed Dick. “They certainly stared at me very hard.”

“But that isn’t all,” continued Bob. “Just the minute that Uncle Ruben, as George calls him, proposed that the premises should be searched, the appearance of those three boys changed as if by magic. They looked relieved at once, and I heard Wallace say, ‘If I were Mr. Newton, I would search the shanty, warrant or no warrant. It is plain that George can’t live on nothing, and as he has no visible means of support—’ What’s that? Didn’t I tell you that they would find something? Let’s go around there.”

Bob was interrupted by the sound of Uncle Ruben’s voice, which came from behind the cabin. It was pitched in a high key, and there was a triumphant ring in it.

Being fully satisfied in his own mind that the man had succeeded in finding some damaging evidence against his nephew, Bob was not very much surprised at the sight that was presented to his view when he ran around the corner of the house.

A hole had been dug close under the rear wall, and near by lay a couple of open bundles that had just been taken out of it.

Uncle Ruben’s face was fairly radiant. He seemed to be struggling to assume an expression of countenance suitable to the occasion, but his delight was so great that he could not possibly conceal it.

George Edwards was fairly overwhelmed with astonishment, while Wallace and his two friends looked as though a mountain of anxiety had been removed from their minds.

Bob’s sharp eyes took all these things in at a glance, and then they turned toward the sheriff.

The latter looked solemn, but he did not appear to be at all astonished. He knew that George Edwards had never put those bundles in that hole; and there were other men in the party who knew it, too.

But the question was: Who did do it?

It was answered in a very few minutes, and in a most unexpected manner.

“George, I am astonished at you!” said Uncle Ruben, drawing the back of his hand across his eyes, and wiping away the tears that would not come at his bidding. “Neighbor Newton, these things come from some of the stores that’s been robbed.”

The officer nodded his head, but said nothing.

“There’s been a heap of this sort of work goin’ on,” continued Uncle Ruben; “an’ who knows but there’s something else hid away about here? Let’s take a look through the bushes, all of us, an’ see if we can find anything in ’em.”

Some of the party complied, moving about in a listless sort of way, and showing by all their actions that their hearts were not in the matter, while the others held the horses and awaited the result of the search in silence.

Uncle Ruben kept clear of the thicket into which he had thrown the chickens, hoping that some one would stumble upon it. Two or three men did walk through it, but they found nothing.

Then Uncle Ruben went in himself; but he, too, came out empty-handed. Beyond a doubt, some prowling fox or raccoon had been there before him and carried off the chickens.

“Well, Mr. Edwards, you don’t seem to be having very good luck,” said the sheriff, who was growing tired of this “spite-work business,” as he afterward termed it.

“No, I don’t seem to find nothing—that’s a fact,” replied the man, as he came out of the bushes, looking rather surprised and crestfallen. “Queer, too, I must say—for my hen-roost was robbed t’other night.”

While Uncle Ruben was wondering whether or not it would be safe to accuse George of having stolen and eaten the chickens, the rest of the searching party came out of the woods, one after the other.

And when they were all assembled, and were waiting for the officer to speak, Bob Howard, after holding a short consultation with Dick, stepped out where all could see him.

“Now, then, I’ve got the floor,” said he, “and I will show you how to go to the bottom of this business in less than two minutes.”

Everybody seemed to know that there was something coming now. The sheriff looked expectant, and those who had accompanied him to the cabin, merely out of curiosity, led their horses closer to the speaker and formed a complete circle around him.

As Bob uttered these words, he fastened his eyes upon Wallace and his two friends, and kept them there so long that the rest of the party began to look toward them, also.

Wallace, who showed himself to be possessed of uncommon nerve, met his gaze without flinching; Forbes moved about uneasily and smiled in a sickly sort of way; and Benson, utterly unable to endure his close scrutiny, walked off as though he had no particular object in view, leading his horse by the bridle.

“Don’t go away, Benson,” said Bob. “You are just the fellow I want to talk to. Come back here.”

“Why, Bob, you’re crazy!” exclaimed Wallace. “What does Benson know about Mr. Stebbins’ money? I mean—”

Wallace saw that he had made a false step, and he intended to correct it; but Bob was too quick for him.

“Who said anything about Mr. Stebbins’ money?” he demanded. “That subject was dropped long ago; but Benson knows all about it, and so do you and Forbes.”

The horsemen moved up closer to Bob, and exclamations of astonishment were heard on all sides. Forbes would have been glad to run away with Benson, but Wallace stood his ground manfully.

“If I know all about it, why don’t you question me instead of Benson?” he inquired, with a sneer.

“Because I don’t choose to, just now. I may have a few questions to ask you, by-and-by.”

“Well, I shall do as I please about answering them.”

“Of course; that’s your privilege. But you’ll not do as you please about answering them, when you find yourself hauled up before Judge Baker. Come back here, Benson.”

But Benson paid no attention to him. He did not think it would be quite safe to go back, for he knew too well what was coming. He led his horse around the corner of the cabin, and there is every reason to believe that he intended to mount him and ride away; but his purpose was defeated by Dick Langdon and George, who sprang around the opposite end of the cabin and ran along the front of it, just in time to seize the bridle of Benson’s horse as the young fellow was about to swing himself into the saddle.

“Look here, Benson! You’re only making a bad matter worse,” warned Dick.

“Let me alone!” protested Benson, whose eyes filled with tears as fast as he could wipe them away. “I don’t know anything about Mr. Stebbins’ money.”

“Yes, you do,” said Dick, firmly. “Bob Howard and I were there, and we drove you away just as you were about to go into the house through the wood-shed window. I am sorry for you; but if you think that Bob and I are going to stand still and let somebody accuse us of a crime of which you are guilty, you will find that you are mistaken.”

When Dick took him by the arm and attempted to lead him behind the cabin, Benson showed a disposition to resist him, and it is probable that he would have done so if the sheriff had not put in an appearance.

The latter had been looking for something strange and unexpected to come of this morning’s work, but he had little dreamed that it would be the means of putting him on the track of the burglars for whom he had been so long watching.

He knew now, as well as he knew it ten minutes later, that Benson and his two friends had made an effort to steal Mr. Stebbins’ money—that they were responsible for at least one of the burglaries that had been committed in the village—and he was astounded by the discovery; but his face did not show it.

The culprits were the sons of the wealthiest and most prominent men in the county, and, although the officer did not approve of their idle, shiftless ways, and watched their conduct with some concern, as many other good men in the village did, they were the last ones he would have suspected of any crime. He wondered what it was that had led them to it, and the next Monday he found out.

“Benson, come with me,” said the officer, kindly, but firmly. “I should like to have a few words with you in private. Dick, you and George go around where the others are, and tell them that I don’t want to be interrupted.”

“Well, smart Alecks, what have you accomplished?” asked Wallace, as Dick and his companion joined their friend, Bob Howard.

“We kept Benson from running away,” replied Dick, whose even temper was not in the least ruffled by the other’s insulting tones. “We couldn’t afford to let him get out of sight, you know, because we shall need his evidence. You said last night that if you ever got into trouble, it would be through him, and I guess you hit the nail right on top of the head.”

“I never said any such thing,” denied Wallace, hoping by an assumption of rage, which he did not feel, to hide the alarm he did feel. “Now, I am sick of all this nonsense, and I want to know what you mean by it.”

“You will find out all you want to know as soon as Benson has finished his confession.”

“Confession!” gasped Wallace.

That was the thing of which he stood the most in fear. If Benson’s courage gave way, there was no hope for them. The bare thought was enough to terrify him beyond expression.

His face was fairly livid, while Forbes could only maintain an upright position by clinging to the horn of his saddle.