"That's the ticket, Fred!" said Colon, jubilant. "That black eye would
tell the story, wouldn't it, now? And then if Clem Shooks or Oscar Jones
is seen to limp painfully, and grunt every step he takes, that ought to
mark him as one of your poor victims."

"The whole three of them galloped off, didn't they?" asked Fred just
then.

"I should say they did, and as fast as they could skip. But what makes
you ask that, Fred?"

"I thought I heard a movement in this patch of bushes here, that's all;
but it may have been a bird or a rabbit. Shall we start along now,
Colon?"

"Just give me half a minute, will you, Fred?" begged the tall chum, who
was fumbling in his vest pocket.

"What do you want to do?" asked Fred.

"Oh, strike a match, and take a little peep around," he was told. "Never
know what you might strike. Remember picking up a sleeve button once,
after I'd been set on by a couple of fellows in the dark; and it gave the
game away. Oh! yes, I returned the button, but my bruises felt a heap
better after I'd given the fellow a double dose."

He immediately snapped the match off, and began moving around close to
the bushes. Fred heard him sing out before half a dozen seconds had
passed.

"Well, this is great luck, Fred!" Colon exclaimed. "Here I've found a
hat trampled in the dirt. Maybe now that will tell the story. Hold it,
please, while I strike another match. Let's look inside. What's this I
see? First thing is the well known trademark of our enterprising
Riverport hat dealer. Then here's some initials in gold fixed inside.
What d'ye make 'em out to be, Fred?"

CHAPTER XV

CLINCHING EVIDENCE

"As near as I can make out, they're C.J.," said Fred, after he had taken
a look, before the match flickered, and went out in the night breeze.

Colon burst into another laugh.

"Told you so, Fred!" he remarked, triumphantly. "You don't need to guess
twice to know whom that set belongs to. Let me mention his name to
you---Conrad Jimmerson, and this is what proves it. I'd just keep that
old hat, and make him eat it, if I were you."

There was another rustling in the bushes, and Fred glanced that way as
though a trifle suspicious, but made no move to investigate.

"Oh! I don't know that I'll go as far as that," Fred observed, "because,
while a fellow may have to eat crow once in a while, swallowing his own
hat would be asking too much of him. But there's another way to rub it
in."

"