newly-picked bones, evidence
enough that some one had been there but a short time before.
Penetrating deeper in his search, he made a find of the utmost
importance. Lying at one side, and near a bed of rags, was an envelop
addressed to Dennis Foley, and, on a peg which had been driven into the
wall, was hanging an old hat, which he had often seen on Hildey's head.

Elated at the results of his quest, he began to retrace his steps, and
in eager haste he left the cave. Picking his way along the slimy stones
under the wharf, he soon neared the outlet and there was startled by
the most significant of all his discoveries. Right before him lay the
identical hoop which he had given the lost child only Christmas Day,
and which bore the inscription, "From Sandy Coggles to Lillian
Franklin."

Every suspicion now was confirmed, and he was sure he knew the
culprits. Taking the hoop, he returned to his boathouse with all
possible speed, and leaping into his skiff, paddled up the river, his
eyes scanning the marsh lines on either bank of the channel. Arriving
at the bridge, he learned by inquiry from the tender stationed there
that he had not seen the Lillian coming up stream within the past three
days.

"But," explained the bridge-tender, "I'm only on from six to six during
daylight, and of course if anything comes through at night I wouldn't
know about it. I'm pretty sure, though, there's been nothing up this
way for a month of Sundays, 'cept Buck Wesley, who creeped up 'bout two
hours ago, following a gang of ducks that uses right over there above
Mayhew's Meadows. And the way Buck's been shooting for the last hour,
he must be having a time and no mistake."

"Well, so long," called Sandy. "I guess I'll go up the river a little
further and have a look." And once more he took up his paddles. As he
came abreast of the Meadows he saw Buck Wesley coming out of the creek
in his gunning skiff.

"Is that you, Sandy?" shouted the gunner.

"That's me," was the boy's answer.

"Come over here, I want to talk to you," requested Buck.

When Sandy got alongside the hunter's boat, he asked:

"Well, Buck, what's the trouble?"

"No trouble, Sandy, but when I come up the river this mornin'--I ain't
been up for three weeks, it's been such pore weather for ducks--I seen
a bunch of widgeon go down right over here, an' as I skims up by the
collard patch t'other side of the bridge, I noticed a boat lyin' in the
mud, and when I gits near to