The black headlines which had attracted Fred’s eye told of the five hundred dollar reward offered for the capture of Jim Wilson, who had escaped from the Harpersville jail after a murderous assault on the guard. The manner in which the paper had been folded indicated that this sensational article had been left outermost, and the blurred ink and wear in the creases of the folds bespoke the fact that the paper had been carried around in someone’s pocket.

“Piper?” muttered Hooker. “Why, it isn’t likely that he has been here.”

“It doesn’t seem at all likely,” agreed Sage; “but still——”

“What was he doing with the paper, anyhow?”

Fred turned sidewise, so that the bright light from the open fire fell full on the page, and his finger indicated the news article which had held such deep interest for Sleuth.

“See that?”

“Yes,” said Roy, peering over his chum’s shoulder. “‘Five hundred dollars reward. Desperate character breaks jail after murderous assault on keeper.’ Oh, yes, that’s the sort of stuff that would interest old Sleuthy.”

“I’ve kept my promise to Piper to say nothing about his wild theory,” said Fred, “and, a full week having passed with no result, I don’t fancy it will do him any good for me to continue a clam. I was sure there was nothing in it, anyhow. You see, Piper had a crazy notion that this escaped criminal and the stranger you talked with last Saturday might be identical. It’s rather odd that the printed description of James Wilson, as given here, corresponds with your description of the man who talked with you and ran away at my approach. Here it is.”

His eyes puckered, his lips pursed a little, Hooker read the description of Gentleman Jim.

“Why, that’s right,” he said slowly. “It does sort of fit, and no mistake. But Pipe didn’t say anything about this to me. You know I told you how he came round and asked me a lot of questions, some of which I couldn’t answer, and the most of which seemed more or less foolish. He tried to find out everything I knew about you and your folks, seeming especially anxious to learn where you came from when you moved into Oakdale. Now what’s that got to do with this stuff in the newspaper?”

Fred laughed shortly. “You see,” he explained, with a touch of scorn, “Sleuth was trying to connect us somehow with the notorious and desperate Mr. Wilson.”

“How could he do that?”

“Have you forgotten that your stranger made inquiries concerning the Sages in Oakdale? Now you tumble; you’re on. If that man was Wilson, he would not make such inquiries without some knowledge of us, and, if he knew us, it was natural to suppose that we knew him. I informed Piper that I had never heard of such a man.”

“That should have ended it.”

“Not with Sleuth. Doubtless he reasoned that if we had ever known this criminal we would, most naturally, be sure to deny the fact.”

“But you never did know him?”

Sage shot his friend a quick, resentful glance. “Do you think I’d lie, even to Piper?”

“Of course not.”

“I never heard of this James Wilson, alias Gentleman Jim, until Sleuth told me about him. My denial, however, had little effect on Piper, who hinted at family skeletons hidden away in closets and then proceeded to watch me in true dime novel detective style. For a day or two I couldn’t shake him; he hung around me all the time. At last I got tired of it and gave him to understand flatly that he’d better let up.”

“By Jingoes!” laughed Roy. “He was watching you last night. After we fixed it up for this little expedition and you had started for home, Piper overtook me and casually did a little pumping. Reckon I was easy, for I told him all about it. Say, you don’t suppose——” Roy paused, as if wondering over an idea that had flashed into his mind.

“What?”

“You don’t suppose he came here to this camp after that? Perhaps he dropped the paper himself.”

Following a moment’s thought, Sage shook his head. “It was after dark last night when he found out what we had arranged to do, Roy. Piper was at school to-day, and we left him starting out for practice with the rest of the team. While it’s not impossible, it’s most improbable that he visited this place after learning we were coming here, and got home in time to attend school. The signs of a recent fire in the fireplace and the fresh boughs on the bunk we may accept as positive assurance that someone spent last night here. Under any circumstances, Sleuth wouldn’t do that—alone.”

“Never,” agreed Hooker, with conviction. “This piece of newspaper must have been left here by someone else. It’s a mere coincidence that it happens to be the same issue shown you by Piper, and it isn’t worth bothering our brains over any further. I’m hungry. Let’s eat.”

“All right,” agreed Fred, putting the newspaper into his pocket.

Their lunch was opened up and placed on the table. Two old boxes served them as chairs. The warmth of the fire made the camp quite comfortable, and its light was sufficient for their needs. Sitting there and chatting after the manner of bosom chums, they thoroughly enjoyed their supper.

After supper there was much to talk over, things of mutual interest which kept them for a time wide awake and in excellent humor. As it was required, they placed fresh wood on the fire, reserving the heavier sticks for the long hours of the night, when they would need a slower blaze.

The guns were looked over and fondled affectionately, while they discussed their hunting experiences, laughing with relish over blunders and failures which had seemed most annoying at the time of their occurrence. They examined the decoys Hooker had borrowed, making sure they were properly “strung” and ready for setting. Football and school affairs also furnished topics for chatting and laughter and the expression of more or less dogmatic opinions. At times in the lulls of their talk they heard the night wind in the trees outside, and occasional puffs coming down the chimney blew a little smoke back into the camp, the odor of which did not, however, become strong enough to be offensive.

Behind them the firelight flung their shadows, huge and wavering, against the camp wall, and, looking round once by chance, Sage was startled to observe those shadows hovering there like something silent and sinister and menacing. Although he did not refer again to the strange man Roy had encountered, he was wondering who that man could have been.

“Whoo!” cried an owl from the blackness of the woods.

Their chatter grew less; at last it ceased. They sat silently gazing at the fire, with its bed of glowing coals. Hooker moved, stretched and yawned.

“It’s me for the sleeps,” he announced drowsily, producing a dollar watch and beginning to wind it. “We’ve got to be up and in that blind ready for business before peep o’ day, you know.”

“I’m ready to turn in,” said Fred.

“Fellow who sleeps on the front side of the bunk will have to replenish the fire once in a while. We can change round in the night and take turns at it. How are you about waking up?”

“Pretty good. I’ll take my turn first.”

Some heavy logs were placed on the fire, and Roy rolled himself into his blanket, an example which Sage soon followed. In a few moments Hooker was sound asleep, as his breathing indicated, but for a long time Fred lay thinking and wondering. He could not rid himself of the conviction that the discovery in that old camp of the newspaper containing the account of Gentleman Jim’s jail-break bore a significance unexplained and uncomprehended. If that paper had not been left there by Piper, who had left it?

“Whoo!” again cried the owl.