nto slumber.

He was suddenly awakened by a pinching grip on his arm. He opened his
eyes upon broad day and upon the face of the tall man. He was aware that
the short man was shaking Wagg awake in the next bunk. "Two men coming
up the side of the mountain; got a slant at 'em through the trees;
they're after us!"

"Sho!" demurred Wagg. "They're only bird hunters."

"We're taking no chances on 'em being jailbird hunters! Are there any
holes here in the rocks?"

"Plenty," stated Wagg. "And the three of you better hunt them holes, no
matter who is coming."

The short man, the tall man, and Vaniman needed no urging on that point.
They ran, crouching low, and scrambled out of sight among the ledges of
the craggy peak of Devilbrow.

Wagg lighted his pipe and went out and sat on the bench beside the
camp's door, and when the two early visitors came puffing up the hill
and confronted him he was to all appearances enjoying the delights of a
bland fall morning and the comfort of an unruffled conscience. He jumped
to his feet and hailed one of the men with a great show of cordiality;
the man was one of the deputy wardens of the state prison.

Mr. Wagg hopefully and guilelessly expressed the conviction that the
officer had followed along into the wilderness in order to join in the
process of recuperation.

The deputy asserted that Mr. Wagg was wrong to the extent of a damsite,
or something of the sort, and reported some recent happenings at the
state prison, Mr. Wagg listening with appropriate, shocked, official
concern. He opined that it was a long shot, figuring that the convicts
had fled back to the region of Levant. The warden agreed. "But the
Old Man is bound to have us tip over every flat rock, Bart. He got a
call-down for that accident--and this matter on top of it has made him
sore. I'm up here this far because I got a line on you at Levant."

"You did, hey?" Mr. Wagg gazed off across the landscape, as if wondering
how much of a trail he had left.

"You dropped 'recuperates' like a molting rooster drops feathers, Bart,"
averred the warden, jocosely. "That was my trail. Reckoned I'd come and
tip you off so that you can do a little scouting for the good cause."

Mr. Wagg threw out his chest. "You can leave this hill section to me.
Always on the job! That's my motto."

The deputy said he knew that, stated that he would probably spend a week
along the highways and in the villages of the section, got a drink of
wat