"And what of your folks?" asked Roger. "Do they know?"

"I sent my dad a letter about it last week. But he is away on
business, so I don't know when he'll get it or what he'll do. I didn't
let the Blossmore folks know because I don't think my uncle ought to
go back to that place. He ought to be put in an institution where they
are more strict, so he can't get away again."

"You are right there," said Dave.

"Nat, don't you know it is highly dangerous to allow that man at
large?" asked the senator's son, after a pause, during which the three
boys turned their footsteps towards the island cabin.

"Oh, I don't think he is as dangerous as some folks imagine," was the
reply. "He has never actually harmed anybody yet. But he scares 'em."

"He may have committed some deeds of which you know nothing."

At these suggestive words from the senator's son Nat turned pale.

"What do you mean? Have you heard anything, Roger?"

"I hate to hurt your feelings any further, Nat, but I must be honest
with you. Dave and I have an idea that he was the one who blew up the
dining-room of Sparr's hotel."

"Oh, impossible!"

"What Roger says is true," said Dave, gravely. "I am sorry for you,
Nat, but that is the way it looks to us. He was seen around the old
stone bridge when it was blown up, and around the shanty where the
dynamite was kept, and he has been in Oakdale several times, so we
have heard."

"Oh, he wouldn't do such a thing! He couldn't!" cried the
money-lender's son, in genuine distress.

"An insane man is liable to do anything, Nat," said Roger. "Why, he
might have set off that dynamite without realizing the consequences.
The best thing we can do is to organize a regular search for him, and
round him up as quickly as possible."

"I suppose that is so," groaned Nat. "But, oh, how I do hate the
exposure!"

"You mustn't take it too hard, Nat," said Dave. "Remember, neither you
nor your family are responsible for his condition of mind."

It did not take the three students long to reach the little cabin.
While Nat was packing up the things he had brought along, Dave and
Roger looked over the place. The wild man had had but few things, none
of them worth mentioning. There was a newspaper and an old magazine,
showing that Wilbur Poole occasionally indulged in reading.

"Hello, look here!" cried Roger, as he turned the magazine over.
"Well, I declare!"

"What is it?" asked Dave and Nat, in a breath.

"Here's a pict