his left bootheel at football practice Friday afternoon?"

"Yes," admitted Dan Dalzell. "But how does this print prove----"

"I see!" broke in Dave Darrin tremulously. "This print, at the rear end,
is from the same sort of heel."

"It surely is," nodded Dick. "Dan, you wear a number-four shoe like
Greg's. Come here and let me measure the length of your left shoe with
this string. Sit down first."

Young Prescott took the measure with his string, then applied it to the
print in the ground.

"Same length, you see," flashed Dick triumphantly. "Fellows, that's Greg
Holmes's footprint! You see, the print looks old, as though it had been
made a couple of days ago. Yet there's been no rain and it isn't washed
away. The footprint looks just about as old as the horse's hoof mark."

"Then you think that Greg took a carriage as far as here?" demanded Tom
Reade dubiously.

"He was brought here in some sort of wagon!"

"Go on and read the rest of the page to us," begged Dan Dalzell, still
skeptical.

"This was as far as Dexter, or whoever had Greg, wanted to bring him in
the wagon," Dick continued, still scanning the ground, while employing
his hands to wave away whichever of his chums attempted to come too
close. "Probably Greg was taken somewhere not far from here. He may be
mighty close to us now, fellows. Let's see. The footprint points
straight ahead of us."

"Why isn't there more than one print?" insisted Harry Hazelton.

"Because Greg was probably lifted, so that he wouldn't leave too much of
a trail."

"Then why aren't there more prints, especially of the man or men who
lifted Greg?" questioned Dave.

"The men didn't intend to leave any trail at all," replied Dick,
thinking hard. "Probably the first man down from the wagon landed on
that hummock of grass there." Dick moved forward. "Yes, siree! Just look
here, fellows--don't crowd too close to it and blot it out. See, there
isn't a sharply lined footprint here, but there's a pressing down of the
grass, as if some considerable weight had been pressed upon it."

Dick now moved slowly forward, the others on his flanks.

"Here's another footprint--the right foot, but Greg's size," he soon
called.

Not one of the Grammar School boys but felt the full force of the
excitement now.

"Say!" exploded Tom Reade suddenly. "We've plumb forgotten to pass the
signal along to the others in the line."

"It's too late now. They're too far ahead of us," Dick announced.