down or been carried away, but
there was a tall five-board fence at the rear of the three lots. From
this board fence, the hill sloped down toward the southeast, the
direction in which the negro settlement containing the home of Lucy
Thomas was located.

Bristow, frankly bored by the belated search, let Greenleaf lead the way.

"I went up to the sanitarium late last night," the chief told him, "and
had a long talk with Miss Hardesty. She says the man she saw night before
last was right here, just a few yards from this Number Seven sleeping
porch; and, it seemed to her, he made straight for the board fence. We'll
follow in his footsteps. That will take up to the fence in the middle of
the rear line of Number Seven's lot."

He was following this route as he talked, Bristow limping a few yards
behind him.

Greenleaf overlooked nothing. The lot had been cleared of last winter's
leaves, and the search was comparatively simple, but, if he saw even so
much as a small stick on either side of him, he turned it over. They were
soon at the fence, about twenty yards from the sleeping porch.

"There's not a trace--not a trace of anything, chief," said Bristow,
leaning one elbow on the top board of the fence.

Greenleaf, however, was not to be discouraged. After he had walked around
again and again in ever-widening circles, he stopped and thought.

"If that nigger was running away and trying to make good time," he
exclaimed, suddenly inspired, "he didn't jump the fence in the middle
there, where you are. He took a line slanting down toward that negro
settlement. The chances are he went over the fence down at that corner."

He pointed to the southeastern corner back of No. 5 and, with his eyes on
the ground, began to work toward it.

Barely a yard from the corner, he stooped down swiftly, picked up
something and turned joyfully toward Bristow, who still leaned against
the fence.

"Look here! Look here, Mr. Bristow," he called, hurrying across to him.

Bristow examined the object Greenleaf had found. It consisted of six
links of a gold chain, three of the links very small and of plain gold,
the other alternating three links being larger and chased with a fine,
exquisite design of laurel leaves, the leaves so small as to be barely
distinguishable to the naked eye.

The lame man shared the chief's excitement.

"By George! You've got something worth while. I should say so!"

"What do you make of it?" asked Greenleaf, eager