“Gee whiz!” exclaimed Hooker, astonished. “Who stole them?”

“That question,” admitted Sleuth, “I’m not ready to answer at present. I’ll focus my marvelous discerning intellect upon it after the would-be bank robbers are securely in limbo. I’ll guarantee that the posses searching for them are rushing hither and thither without rhyme, reason or system. That’s no way to hunt the scoundrels down. Of course they may blunder upon the fugitives by accident, but the trail should be taken up and followed in a scientific manner.”

“That’s easy enough to talk about,” said Roy; “but, without the aid of bloodhounds, how is it to be done?”

“To begin with, we know they fled in this direction, for old Quinn saw them running from the back of the bank and fired at them. They must have reached Middle Street a short distance away. It was impossible to follow their tracks in the dark, but it’s now daylight, and I’m going to try to pick up the trail.”

“A fine job you’ll do at that,” scoffed the other boy. “Even if you should find their tracks, you’d need the skill of an Injun to follow ’em.”

“We’ll see,” said Piper—“we’ll see about that. There’s a cedar hedge running from Main Street to Willow, and any person who dashed through that hedge at full speed must have left some tokens.”

“Let’s examine the hedge.”

In less than a minute Piper found a place where the branches of the trimmed cedars were bent and broken. He pointed at it exultantly.

“There’s where one of them went through,” he declared.

“Perhaps it’s where some one, hurrying to the bank, came in from the other direction.”

“Use your eyes, Hook. The manner in which the cedars are twisted and bent shows that the person who passed through the hedge came from this direction, and he was in a hurry, too. Look here! What’s this, Roy? It’s blood—blood on the bushes!”

No wonder Roy’s eyes bulged as he beheld the slight bloodstain at which his companion pointed with a triumphant finger.

“Blood!” he muttered. “Why, then——”

“Old Quinn hit one of them, no question about it. There’s a wounded bank-breaker fleeing for his life somewhere.”

Both lads were now greatly excited, although Sleuth fought hard to maintain such an air of coolness as he fancied would well become a great detective.

“By this trail of blood we’ll track him, Hooker,” he said. “If we capture one of the rascals, perhaps he will squeal on his pals.”

“If we capture him!” spluttered Roy. “What are you talking about? Do you think we could do it alone? He’s a desperate man, and he’d fight——”

“Are you armed?”

“No.”

“Well, I am,” said Sleuth, displaying a small revolver. “It’s too bad you have no weapon, but, nevertheless, you may be of great assistance in capturing the man. If you’ve got nerve enough to stick by me, we’ll try to run him down.”

“Hadn’t we better get others? Do you think we ought to try it alone?”

“If we call for assistance,” said Sleuth, “and the man is actually captured, we’ll have to share the reward with others. You know there’s a large reward offered for the apprehension of the man known as Gentleman Jim, and it’s not impossible that the fellow who was winged by Aaron Quinn is Gentleman Jim himself. If we take him, just you and I, we can whack up on that reward money. I’ll agree to give you a fair share, providing you stand by me through thick and thin.”

“You’ve certainly got a nerve, Piper, to think of trying such a thing. I don’t know about it, myself.”

“Oh, well, if you’re scared,” said Sleuth, with no attempt to suppress his scorn, “I’ll go it alone. I thought you had more sand, Hook.”

“Well, nobody around here has ever figured that you were running over with sand, yourself,” was the resentful retort. “I guess I’ve got as much as you have. Go ahead and see what you can do at this job of trailing.”

Forcing their way through the hedge, they reached Middle Street, where for a moment Piper hesitated, as if considering the probable course the fugitive had taken.

“About the time the man got here,” he said, “Jonas Sylvester was waking people up by his yells and shouts from the square in front of the post-office. Under such circumstances, fearing to encounter some citizen of the town who had been aroused by Sylvester, the fleeing man would avoid the streets as far as possible. I should say he kept straight across the road here and struck across lots for High Street.”

“Guesswork,” said Hooker.

“Deduction, reasoning, sound judgment,” flung back Sleuth, as he hurried to examine the top rail of the old slat fence upon the northern side of the street; “and here’s my proof—a smooch of blood where the man grasped the rail as he vaulted over the fence.”

“Jinks!” breathed Roy, gazing at the sanguine mark. “You’re right; it’s there.”

Beyond the fence Piper continued northward, bending forward that he might search the ground with his eyes. Again and again he pointed to frozen blood-drippings upon the grass, and, at Sleuth’s heels, Roy felt his pulse throbbing with a touch of the fierce excitement that invariably seizes upon one who hunts fleeing men. For the first time in his life he was beginning to believe that Piper had been underestimated by those who had scoffed at his ambition to become a great detective.

Across High Street and into the neglected, old-fashioned horse sheds at the rear of the Methodist church the two boys followed the trail. In one of those sheds there was a little pool of blood, surrounded by similar drippings, at which Hooker stared in great fascination.

“He stopped here,” asserted Sleuth. “Concealed by the darkness, he hid in this shed for some little time. Perhaps he was led to do this through exhaustion caused by the wound. Perhaps he did so because he heard citizens running down Main Street toward the bank.”

“Gee!” said Roy, giving himself a shake. “If he’s hurt bad, we’re liable to come on him any minute. Why, we might have found him here, and perhaps he’d filled us full of lead. It’s ticklish business, Pipe.”

“He won’t be liable to fight unless cornered, and if we corner him we must get him foul so he can’t pot us. Come on; time is precious.”

As if the flow from the wound had been partly staunched, the trail now became decidedly more difficult to follow. Nevertheless, Sleuth traced it to upper Main Street, some distance below the home of Urian Eliot. There it again led across the road and into the broad fields beyond. Through the midst of these fields ran a tiny brook, the banks of which were lined by scattering clumps of bushes. Here the brown grass was rather tall, and the boys followed the man’s tracks with little difficulty. At the point where the fugitive had started to cross the brook a clay bank some three feet in height had caved beneath his feet.

“He took a tumble here,” said Piper. “There’s where he got on his pins again. See his tracks, Hook?”

The prints of the man’s feet were plainly to be seen, and, it being no more than a foot wide at that point, he had crossed the brook at a stride. On the western side the trail again led northward, and before long the boys paused within plain sight of the house of the Sages.

“Ah! ha!” breathed Sleuth, with an intonation of deep exultation. “Now you can see what he was doing. I’m sorry indeed for our mutual friend, Fred Sage; but duty is duty, and we must not falter.”

“It does look as if he made straight for the Sages’ place,” admitted Roy.

“No question about it,” nodded Sleuth, grasping his companion’s arm and drawing him back. “Let’s preserve proper caution. We might be seen.”

“I don’t see anyone stirring around the place.”

“No, but you can see that the front door of the stable is standing open a bit. That door was not left thus all night long, you can bet on it.”

“I suppose they were woke up by the racket.”

“But why should they go to the stable? If we locate our man there, Hooker, I’ll stay and keep watch while you go for the officers.”

“I don’t see how we’re going to——”

“We’ll have to retreat a distance, cross the road out of sight of the house and approach the buildings from the rear. That’s the proper trick.”

Hooker did not attempt an argument; he left the maneuver to be carried through by Sleuth, whom he continued to follow without proffering advice.

Crouching low when the road was reached, they darted across it, one after the other, circling until they could approach the stable of the Sages from the rear. To their surprise, they perceived that the small back door of the building also stood open. Their nerves taut and tingling, they presently found themselves beside that door, where, with one hand on his pistol and the other upheld as a signal for caution, Piper listened intently.

“Can you hear anything?” whispered Roy.

“No,” admitted Sleuth, “nothing that seems significant to me. I’m going to look in. Keep still.”

Thrusting his head forward, he peered into the gloomy interior of the building. After a few glances, reaching backward without turning, he beckoned for the other lad to follow, and entered, walking on his toes.

They were in the very center of the stable floor when a sudden stamping and a snort caused them both to leap backward, Piper jerking up the hand in which his nickle-plated revolver quivered tremulously. After a moment he drew a breath of relief, turning a pallid face toward Roy as he explained in a whisper:

“Nothing but their cow in the tie-up yonder.”

“Thunder!” sighed Sleuth’s companion. “She gave me an awful start. Don’t look like we’ll find anything here, Pipe.”

“Wait. I have a theory into which I’ve been led by the sight of the open doors, but it’s best to proceed carefully and not overlook anything.”

Ten seconds later, not five feet from the slightly opened front doors, Piper discovered something that added in no small degree to his self-esteem. Upon the floor near a small grain box was a pool of blood, and beside that pool he perceived some shreds like ravellings from a torn cloth.

“Our man was here, Hooker,” he said.

“Was here?” muttered Roy. “Then you think he’s gone?”

“I think his injury was bound up right here in this stable while he sat there upon that box. I don’t believe he did the work of bandaging the wound himself.”

“He must be in the house.”

“Don’t jump at conclusions. That’s the trouble with most people. That’s how they lead themselves astray. The fellow came here. He must have been pretty badly used up, too. Somebody tied up his injuries. Isn’t it likely they realized the man would be traced by the blood-drippings? And is it likely, in that case, that they would think of trying to hide him here?”

“Why, I don’t know——”

“I don’t know, but I’m using logic, reasoning, horse sense. I saw something as we entered by that open back door which makes me confident that the fellow continued his flight in that direction. Beyond the orchard, out there, lie the woods to the north of Turkey Hill.”

“You think he hit out for those woods, do you?”

“I think so, but unless I can find evidence to confirm my belief we’ll not try to follow him haphazard.”

They left the stable by the door through which they had entered, and when they were outside Sleuth once more fell to searching the ground with his eyes.

“Tracks!” he muttered. “There were two of them—two of them! And here’s the proof that our man was one!”

He picked up a lump of half frozen clay which plainly had fallen from the boot of a man. It was the sort of clay into which the fugitive had slumped when the brook bank gave way beneath his feet.

“You’re a wonder, Pipe,” declared Roy, his admiration unrestrained at last.

“Spare the compliments,” said Sleuth briskly. “We’re off again.”

The trail led through the orchard, beyond which it was plain enough in the hoarfrost which covered the ground.

“And these tracks weren’t made so long ago, either,” asserted Piper. “It won’t be so easy to follow them after we get into the woods. Too bad.”

In truth, it was not an easy matter, and they were proceeding with exasperating slowness when of a sudden Piper whirled and clutched his companion, exclaiming in a hoarse whisper:

“Hark! Some one coming! Get to cover, Hooker—lively!”

Near by was a fallen tree. Sleuth cleared it with a bound, flinging himself down behind the thick trunk. His example was followed by Roy, and there, amid a mass of leaves which the wind had swept into a little hollow, they knelt, peering over the fallen tree.

Barely were they thus hidden when another boy came crashing at a run through some bushes and appeared in full view.

It was Fred Sage!