alking through his hat."

The fire was kept burning, and fed with more or less green wood in the
hope and expectation that the black smoke thus generated might draw the
tracking posse to the scene the more rapidly.

It was almost two hours before they arrived, which would indicate that
Johnny might not be quite as expert at following a "man trail" as some
of the scouts were.

Great was the astonishment of the Chief and his men when upon
approaching the fire by creeping up they discovered that those about it
were the eight scouts, and even recognized in the bedraggled figure of
the last member none other than the wretched culprit, Hen Condit.

And there, seated with his back against a tree and his hands and ankles
securely bound scout-fashion, was the man they wanted. He greeted
their coming, and the look of amazement on the Chief's red face with
roars of amusement.

"Better late than never, Chief," he called out. "While you were
sleeping over it, these smart scouts did the business, and took me in.
All the cold cash that was taken has been recovered to a last red cent;
and I've explained just how I forced this silly boy Hen to write that
letter, when it was really me who cribbed the money. So don't bother
blaming a kid like that. He's had his lesson, Chief."

Elmer thought that was pretty handsome of Joe, and he did not hesitate
to tell him so. He could see that the man was a strange mixture of
good and evil, though it seemed that the bad elements in his
composition were generally on top.

As there was no need of remaining any longer in the swamp, they started
to leave. Johnny said he would go back and take the two skiffs out,
towing one behind him. Later on he could come and mend the new boat by
fetching a plank to replace the one that had been staved in by striking
a log at full speed.

"Hope we see you again down at Hickory Ridge, Johnny!" called out Lil
Artha after the bound boy.

"Yes, and we won't forget that clever chicken trap of yours," added
Toby, "even if the man did cut his companion free before we reached the
spot. By the way, Hen, here's something of yours that we found."

"My knife with the buckhorn handle!" exclaimed the Condit boy, looking
pleased. "I missed that, and thought I'd never see it again. Where
did you pick it up, Toby?"

"Huh! you dropped it from your pocket once upon a time when your heels
were some higher than your head. That helped to give us a strong clue,
and we