After that there was no further alarm, and the two watchers secured quite a fair amount of sleep before the coming of dawn warned them to hie away home.  They left the blankets at the boathouse, for they had purposely brought old ones; and hence, when it came time for the next watch to take up their duties, there would be no occasion for them to duplicate.

On second thought the boys had come to the conclusion that it might be wise for them to tell Brad what had happened.  The fact that the vengeful Buck had not stopped at such a grave thing as setting fire to the shed, worried them both.

So a little later they both met again, having had breakfast.  Together they hunted up the other three who were in the game; indeed, Bristles was meanwhile searching the whole neighborhood for Fred, having called at his house after he had gone.

“Well,” he remarked, after he had caught up with Fred, Sid and Colon, on their way to get Corney and himself; “seems to me you fellows are in a big hurry this same morning.”

“We are,” replied Fred.  “We wanted to get the entire committee together, and go in a body to see Brad.  He ought to know that the boat is always going to be in danger unless something is done to curb Buck Lemington.”

“Say, was I right?” cried Bristles, exultantly.

“You were,” replied Colon, solemnly.

“Then he did try to break in, so’s to cut the boat, and injure her?” the other went on, eagerly.

“Worse than that!” said Colon.

“Far worse!” Fred added, looking mighty solemn himself.

“Oh! come, let up on that sort of thing; open up and tell me what happened!” the excited boy demanded.

When they did give him the whole story he could hardly contain himself, between his natural indignation because of the meanness of the act, and his delight over the success of Colon’s little trap.

“Caught that sneak Conrad Jimmerson, and strung him up like a trapped ’possum, did you?” he cried, clapping his hands in glee.  “Gee! what tough luck that I wasn’t around to see it.  Always my bad fortune, seeing lots of game when I haven’t got a gun; and never a thing when I’m heeled for business.”

“You see Colon and myself got to talking it over,” said Fred; “and we made up our minds that it was hardly fair to keep the thing from Brad.  He’s our head in the boat club, and ought to know all that’s going on.  Besides, when toughs begin to want to burn down houses just for spite, that’s going pretty far.  Something ought to be done to stop it.”

Brad was of course duly impressed when he heard the story.  He laughed heartily at the comical element connected with Colon’s man-trap; but took the other part seriously.

“I’m going over and see my uncle about it,” he declared in the end.  “Being a lawyer, and a judge at that, he’ll tell me what to do.  I think he’ll say he wouldn’t mention a single name; for you know all lawyers are mighty cautious how they give cause for a suit for slander.  But he’ll tell me we ought to scatter the story all over town, and also let it be known that from now on there’ll be somebody in that house every night, armed, and ready to fire on trespassers.  See you later, fellows.”

Fred found a chance a little later to get away from his other chums.  He really did have an errand for his mother in one of the stores, but he remembered something besides that he had intended doing at the earliest opportunity, and it was this that swayed him most.

Now, it chanced that the place he had to visit to leave an order was the largest grocery store in Riverport.  And one of the boys employed there was Toby Farrell.  Fred knew that he was generally sent out each morning on a wheel, to visit a line of customers, and take down their orders; though most of them had telephones for that matter, and could have wired in their necessities.

Still, this grocer was enterprising, and instructed his boy clerk to tell each customer just what new and attractive goods they had received fresh that morning, possibly strawberries, vegetables and the like.

And in the course of his wheeling about Toby was accustomed to visit the establishment of Miss Alicia Muster each and every day.  In fact, Toby was one of the two boys hired by trades-people whom Fred suspected of being the person guilty of taking the old maid’s opals from the parlor.

Both of them were allowed to cool their heels in the kitchen for possibly ten minutes at a time, while the aged “mammy” consulted her mistress in her private room.  And an inquisitive half-grown boy might become so familiar with the premises that, in a spirit of curiosity, or from some other reason, he would look around him a little at such times.

Mr. Cleaver, the grocer, was in a good humor, and when Fred mentioned that he knew someone who had shown an interest in his young clerk, he immediately broke out in Toby’s praise.

“Best boy, barring none, I ever had, Fred,” he declared.  “Never late in the morning, neat in his work, obliging in his manners to my customers, and willing to stay after hours if there is a rush.  In fact I’m so well satisfied with Toby that I expect to add a couple of dollars to his wages this very next Saturday.  And I’m told he’s the idol of his mother’s eye.  She’s a widow, you know, with three small children, Toby being the eldest.  He shows signs of being like his father; and Matthew Farrell was one of our leading citizens up to the time of his death.  I hope she gets his pension through; it’ll mean several thousand dollars for her.  He died really of wounds received long ago in the war.  Never would apply for the pension he was entitled to.  Toby’s all right, you tell your friend; and he’s promised to stick right here.  Some day he might be a partner in this business, who knows?”

Well, after that, Fred was ready to throw up his hands in so far as Toby was concerned.  He felt that he could never strike pay dirt in that quarter.  There never was, and never would be again, quite such a paragon as Toby Farrell.  It would be wasting time to try and bark up this tree.  The scent had evidently led him in the wrong quarter.

Accordingly, he turned toward the butcher’s, and here he fully anticipated getting on the track of something.  Gabe lived in an outlying quarter, and when he went home in the evening, or at noon, he took a short-cut through Ramsey’s woods, where there was a convenient path.

Now it happened that Fred knew this fact, for he had many a time seen the butcher’s boy going and coming.  Gabe had a big whistle, and used to amuse himself as he walked to and from home in trying to get the airs from the popular ragtime songs of the day.

Fred had heard it said that the boy who whistles is generally an honest fellow, and that guilt and this disposition seldom, if ever, go hand in hand.  How much truth there was in this saying he did not know; but it was on his mind now to try and find out.

Perhaps the fact that it was about ten minutes of twelve influenced Fred in what he set out to do.

First he passed all the way through the strip of woods.  It was not very thickly grown, and there was really only a stretch of about one hundred feet where he did not find himself in sight of some house or other.

Fred secreted himself about midway here.  It was rather a gloomy spot, considering that it happened to be so near a town.  The trees grew pretty thick all around the rambling path; and one big, old, giant oak in particular caught Fred’s attention, on account of the fact that it seemed to be rapidly going into decay, being full of holes, where perhaps squirrels, or it might be a raccoon, had a den.

Then he heard the whistle from the factory in town, immediately followed by the ringing of the church bells.  Noon had come, and if Gabe carried out his regular programme he would soon be coming along the trail.

Yes, that must be his whistle right now, turning off the latest air that had caught his fancy.  Fred wanted to see him at close quarters.  Perhaps he even had some faint idea of stepping out, and walking with Gabe, to judge for himself whether the other had a guilty air or not.

But if such were his plans he soon found cause to change them.  Gabe came whistling along, looking behind him occasionally, and then all around.  Fred became deeply interested.  He fancied that this must mean something; and it did.

Suddenly the whistling stopped.  Looking, he saw Gabe hurry over to the old tree trunk.  He seemed to thrust his hand in, and draw something out.  Fred, watching sharply, noticed that the boy was deeply interested in what he had taken from the hollow trunk; and he could give a pretty good guess as to what this must be.

But Fred did not move from his place of concealment.  Lying snugly hidden he saw Gabe replace the little package, after which he stepped out into the trail, picked up the ragtime air just where he had dropped it, and came walking smartly along, a satisfied grin on his face.

Waiting until he had passed out of sight around a bend in the path, and his loud whistle began to grow fainter in the distance, Fred hurried over to the big tree.

He had noted that particular crevice in the hollow trunk too well to make any mistake now.  A minute later and he had fished up a little cardboard box, not over four inches in length, and secured with a rubber band.

With trembling fingers Fred took this fastening away, and raised the lid; just as Gabe had recently done, no doubt being consumed by a desire to feast his eyes once more on the contents.

Fred gave a satisfied sigh.  It was all right, and Bristles’ reputation had been cleared; for in that little cardboard box which Gabe Larkins had secreted so carefully lay seven milk-white opals, doubtless of considerable value.