intention of deserting his helpless companions,appeared at last to yield reluctantly to their pleas. That indefinablesomething about the youth which appealed strongly to the protectiveinstinct in the man, also assured him that the other's mask ofcriminality was for the most part assumed even though the stories of thetwo yeggmen and the loot bulging pockets argued to the contrary. Therewas the chance, however, that the boy had really taken the first stepupon the road toward a criminal career, and if such were the case Bridgefelt morally obligated to protect his new found friend from arrest,secure in the reflection that his own precept and example would domore to lead him back into the path of rectitude than would any policemagistrate or penal institute.
For the girl he felt a deep pity. In the past he had had knowledge ofmore than one other small-town girl led into wrong doing through thedeadly monotony and flagrant hypocrisy of her environment. Himselfhighly imaginative and keenly sensitive, he realized with what depth ofhorror the girl anticipated a return to her home and friends after thechildish escapade which had culminated, even through no fault of hers,in criminal tragedy of the most sordid sort.
As the three held a council of war at the rear of the deserted housethey were startled by the loud squeaking of brake bands on the road infront. Bridge ran quickly into the kitchen and through to the frontroom where he saw three men alighting from a large touring car whichhad drawn up before the sagging gate. As the foremost man, big andbroad shouldered, raised his eyes to the building Bridge smothered anexclamation of surprise and chagrin, nor did he linger to inspect theother members of the party; but turned and ran quickly back to hiscompanions.
"We've got to beat it!" he whispered; "they've brought Burton himselfdown here."
"Who's Burton?" demanded the youth.
"He's the best operative west of New York City," replied Bridge, as hemoved rapidly toward an outhouse directly in rear of the main building.
Once behind the small, dilapidated structure which had once probablyhoused farm implements, Bridge paused and looked about. "They'll searchhere," he prophesied, and then; "Those woods look good to me."
The Squibbs' woods, growing rank in the damp ravine at the bottom of thelittle valley, ran to within a hundred feet of the out-building. Denseundergrowth choked the ground to a height of eight or ten feet aroundthe boles of the close set trees. If they could gain the seclusionof that tangled jungle there was little likelihood of their beingdiscovered, provided they were not seen as they passed across the openspace between their hiding place and the wood.
"We'd better make a break for it," advised Bridge, and a moment laterthe three moved cautiously toward the wood, keeping the out-housebetween themselves and the farm house. Almost in front of them as theyneared the wood they saw a well defined path leading into the thicket.Single-file they entered, to be almost instantly hidden from view, notonly from the house but from any other point more than a dozen pacesaway, for the path was winding, narrow and closely walled by the buddingverdure of the new Spring. Birds sang or twittered about them, the matof dead leaves oozed spongily beneath their feet, giving forth no soundas they passed, save a faint sucking noise as a foot was lifted fromeach watery seat.
Bridge was in the lead, moving steadily forward that they might put asmuch distance as possible between themselves and the detective shouldthe latter chance to explore the wood. They had advanced a few hundredyards when the path crossed through a small clearing the center of whichwas destitute of fallen leaves. Here the path was beaten into soft mudand as Bridge came to it he stopped and bent his gaze incredulously uponthe ground. The girl and the youth, halting upon either side, followedthe direction of his eyes with theirs. The girl gave a little,involuntary gasp, and the boy grasped Bridge's hand as though fearfulof losing him. The man turned a quizzical glance at each of them andsmiled, though a bit ruefully.
"It beats me," he said.
"What can it be?" whispered the boy.
"Oh, let's go back," begged the girl.
"And go along to father with Burton?" asked Bridge.
The girl trembled and shook her head. "I would rather die," she said,firmly. "Come, let's go on."
The cause of their perturbation was imprinted deeply in the mud of thepathway--the irregular outlines of an enormous, naked, human foot--agreat, uncouth foot that bespoke a monster of another world. While,still more uncanny, in view of what they had heard in the farm houseduring the previous night, there lay, sometimes partially obliteratedby the footprints of the THING, the impress of a small, bare foot--awoman's or a child's--and over both an irregular scoring that mighthave been wrought by a dragging chain!
In the loft of his father's hay barn Willie Case delved deep into thesmall red-covered volume, HOW TO BE A DETECTIVE; but though he turnedmany pages and flitted to and fro from preface to conclusion he met onlywith disappointment. The pictures of noted bank burglars and confidencemen aided him not one whit, for in none of them could he descry theslightest resemblance to the smooth faced youth of the early morning. Infact, so totally different were the types shown in the little book thatWillie was forced to scratch his head and exclaim "Gosh!" many timesin an effort to reconcile the appearance of the innocent boy to thehardened, criminal faces he found portrayed upon the printed pages.
"But, by gol!" he exclaimed mentally, "he said he was The OskaloosieKid, 'n' that he shot a man last night; but what I'd like to know ishow I'm goin' to shadder him from this here book. Here it says: 'If thecriminal gets on a street car and then jumps off at the next cornerthe good detective will know that his man is aware that he is beingshadowed, and will stay on the car and telephone his office at the firstopportunity.' 'N'ere it sez: 'If your man gets into a carriage don'trun up an' jump on the back of it; but simply hire another carriage andfollow.' How in hek kin I foller this book?" wailed Willie. "They ain'tno street cars 'round here. I ain't never seen a street car, 'n'as fer acarriage, I reckon he means bus, they's only one on 'em in Oakdale 'n'ifthey waz forty I'd like to know how in hek I'd hire one when I ain't gotno money. I reckon I threw away my four-bits on this book--it don't tella feller nothin' 'bout false whiskers, wigs 'n' the like," and he tossedthe book disgustedly into a corner, rose and descended to the barnyard.Here he busied himself about some task that should have been attended toa week before, and which even now was not destined to be completed thatday, since Willie had no more than set himself to it than his attentionwas distracted by the sudden appearance of a touring car being broughtto a stop in front of the gate.
Instantly Willie dropped his irksome labor and slouched lazily towardthe machine, the occupants of which were descending and heading for theCase front door. Jeb Case met them before they reached the porch andWillie lolled against a pillar listening eagerly to all that was said.
The most imposing figure among the strangers was the same whom Bridgehad seen approaching the Squibbs' house a short time before. It was hewho acted as spokesman for the newcomers.
"As you may know," he said, after introducing himself, "a number ofcrimes were committed in and around Oakdale last night. We are searchingfor clews to the perpetrators, some of whom must still be in theneighborhood. Have you seen any strange or suspicious characters aroundlately?"
"I should say we hed," exclaimed Jeb emphatically.
"I seen the wo'st lookin' gang o' bums come outen my hay barn thismornin' thet I ever seed in my life. They must o' ben upward of a dozenon 'em. They waz makin' fer the house when I steps in an' grabs my ol'shot gun. I hollered at 'em not to come a step nigher 'n' I guess theyseed it wa'n't safe monkeyin' with me; so they skidaddled."
"Which way did they go?" asked Burton.
"Off down the road yonder; but I don't know which way they turned at thecrossin's, er ef they kept straight on toward Millsville."
Burton asked a number of questions in an effort to fix the identity ofsome of the gang, warned Jeb to telephone him at Jonas Prim's if he sawanything further of the strangers, and then retraced his steps towardthe car. Not once had Jeb mentioned the youth who had
purchased suppliesfrom him that morning, and the reason was that Jeb had not consideredthe young man of sufficient importance, having cataloged him mentally asan unusually early specimen of the summer camper with which he was moreor less familiar.
Willie, on the contrary, realized the importance of their morningcustomer, yet just how he was to cash in on his knowledge was not yetentirely clear. He was already convinced that HOW TO BE A DETECTIVEwould help him not at all, and with the natural suspicion of ignorancehe feared to divulge his knowledge to the city detective for fear thatthe
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