.

Prying the bushes apart, stepping forward, he suddenly halted,
a cry of astonishment coming to his lips.

"You, Tag?" he questioned, in astonishment, gazing down at the
sullen face of the larger boy who lay on his back in the thicket.

"Yes; it's Tag, and I'm It," mocked the other.

"What are you doing here?"

"Waiting for you to call your friends, the officers. There's
a reward offered for me, I suppose."

"Yes; there is," answered Dick, wondering why Tag didn't leap
up and scurry away. "And guess who offers the reward?"

"Who?"

"Your father!"

"Bill Mosher?" laughed Tag, despite his sulky air. "What does
Bill offer? The next dozen of eggs?"

"Tag, Bill Mosher isn't your father, and he has admitted it.
You were a strange child that came into his care, and he kept
you, at first, hoping for a reward. Your real name is Page, and
your real father is now over at camp. I'll call him."

"You may as well," agreed Tag sullenly. "But Page is a new name.
Is that what they call the sheriff now?"

"Tag, aren't you ever going to be serious?" demanded Dick, flushing
with eagerness.

"Not while you go on springing the same old line of fairy tales
on me," retorted the other lad. "Is my father, as you call him,
as rich as he was yesterday and the day before? Has he still
barrels of money that he's waiting to hand me? Money? Humph!
If it hadn't been for money I wouldn't be in the fix I am now.
Prescott, I'll tell you something. I've kept the cupboard full
by stealing. I'll admit that. But I never stole money before
to-day. I went through those dog-houses---what do you call them?"

"Do you mean the portable houses of the Bentley party?" asked Dick.

"I guess that's the right name. Anyway, I went through those
houses to gather in some food, for I was going to leave these
woods for good and all."

"So I guessed," nodded Dick.

"And I came across two twenty dollar bills. Prescott, I've always
helped myself to food, because, some way, it always seemed to
me that food belongs to the fellow who needs it most. But I had
never taken any money, before, from anyone. That's honest---flat!
But the twenties looked fine to me. They would carry me a long
way on the railroad, and I haven't had any notion to stay here
and go to jail for something I didn't do anyway. So I took the
money, the grub, too, and stepped off fast through the woods.
But, Prescott, you may believe me or not, that money got heavier
w