e Raven.

'Just so,' said Dick, 'and it's quite dry, so it was dropped here since
the rain.'

'One to you,' said Chippy; 'that come out of 'is boot--jerked out as 'e
was runnin'. We're on the line.'

He made a few steps forward, then gave a low cry. 'Here's the place
where he put 'is boots on,' called Chippy eagerly. 'Here's all sorts
o' marks.' And then Chippy gave another low cry, this time full of
such astonishment and wonder that Dick looked at him quickly.

To Dick's surprise, Chippy seemed fixed to the spot, his finger
pointing, his eyes staring, his mouth gaping open, as if he could not
believe what he saw. 'I know the tracks,' gasped Chippy. 'I know 'im!
I can tell yer who it is!'

CHAPTER XIII

ALBERT, WHO WASN'T ALBERT

'You know who it is?' cried Dick. 'Well, who?'

'It's Albert,' said Chippy. 'It ain't no convict at all. It's Albert.'

'Who's Albert?' asked Dick.

Chippy told the story of his grandmother's lodger, and pointed to the
heel-mark before them. It was the first time since they hit the trail
that the heel-mark had been clearly shown. 'Screws in the heel-tip,'
said Chippy. 'That settles it. It's Albert.'

'But wait a bit, Chippy, wait a bit,' said Dick. 'You're making jolly
sure all at once over this one point. Fifty fellows might have screws
in their heels.'

'Not they,' returned Chippy. 'I know more about them sorts o' boots
than wot you do. It's a scout's job to twig everythin', an' I twigged
the screws in his boots. I knowed they worn't common, an' a day or two
arter I asked a snob' (a local term for a cobbler) 'about it. I done
one or two odd jobs for 'im to get 'im to talk, and then I sez to 'im,
"D'yer ever screw tips on heels?" "No," he sez, "never. We screw tips
on the toes sometimes, for there ain't much depth o' leather theer.
But on heels there's plenty of leather to drive nails into, an' that's
a lot quicker."'

'By Jingo, Chippy!' murmured Dick; 'we shall have to get you the Wolf
badge.'

'Not me,' grunted Chippy; 'yer must do a lot more than that to get the
"Wolf" name, I should fancy. But wot about this work? Wot about
Albert?'

He turned to business again, knitting his brows and staring hard at the
track their man had left.

'The thing gets queerer still, if it is the man Albert,' said Dick.
'Why should he be here, all this distance from Locking?'

'Six mile good,' put in the Raven.

'Yes,' went on Dick, 'full six miles, and then