THE MYSTERY OF A PAIR OF BREECHES.

Jack went out with the lantern upon the ruined abutment of the bridge, and showed a space beside the drift-wood, in the turbid and whirling current, where fording seemed practicable.

Then the boys got into the wagon again, and the mare was driven cautiously forward, by the glimmering light which the lantern shed faintly before and around them. Lion swam ahead, throwing up his muzzle and barking loud, like a faithful pilot showing the safest way. The wheels went in over the hubs; the water came into the bottom of the wagon-box; the flood boiled and plashed and gurgled, and swept away in black, whirling eddies; and Jack said, “This wouldn’t be a very nice place to break down, eh, would it?”

But they got safely through; and on the farther bank they were pleased to find again the trail of the horse and buggy.

They were now in high spirits. The whirlwind having passed up the river, the road lay aside from its direct path, but still within the area of rain.

“This is gay!” said Jack. “He thinks he has baffled us; and he will put up somewhere for the night; and we won’t! We shall circumvent Master Radcliff!”

But soon the boys were again puzzled. Reaching another cross-road, and bringing the lantern to bear upon the trail, they found that, instead of continuing northward, toward Wisconsin, or turning to the right, in the direction of Chicago, it turned at a sharp angle to the left, in the direction of North Mills.

“This move is a perfect mystery to me!” Jack exclaimed. “It seems as if he had thought the thing all over, and finally chosen the very last place one would expect him to make for.”

“Are you sure this road leads to North Mills?”

“Perfectly sure; I’ve been this way three or four times. But another road branches from it, and passes a mile north of the Mills; he has probably taken that.”

But no; after a good deal of trouble the road appearing once more dry and much trodden they discovered that the horse and buggy had not taken the branch, but kept the direct route to the Mills!

“It doesn’t seem possible! there must be some mistake here,” said Jack. And every rod of their progress seemed now to increase the boys’ doubts.

The road, long before they reached the Mills, became a mere bed of brown dust, in which it required a pretty vivid imagination to distinguish one track from another. The boys’ spirits sank accordingly. Lion still led them boldly on; but his guidance could no longer be trusted.

“He’s bound for home now,” said Jack, “and he’ll go straight there.”

“If Rad did come this way,” said Rufe, “he was shrewd, after all. He knew that by passing through a busy place like the Mills, he would hide his tracks as he couldn’t in any other way.”

“To find ’em again,” Jack replied, rather gloomily, “we shall have to examine every road going out of this place.”

It must have been near midnight when they entered the village. The houses were all dark and still; not a ray at a window, not even the bark of a dog, gave sign of life as they passed.

“This looks discouraging,” said Jack.

“A needle in a haystack is no comparison,” replied Rufe. “The lantern is almost out.”

“I can get another at our house,” said Jack. “We may as well follow the dog now. What did I tell you? He is going straight home!”

The dog trotted up to the gate before Mr. Lanman’s cottage, and the wagon turned up after him.

“What’s that ahead of us?” said Jack, as the mare came to a sudden stop.

“Seems to be a wagon standing,” said Rufe, shading his eyes from the lantern and peering into the darkness.

Jack jumped out, ran forward, and gave a shout. The wagon was a buggy, and the horse was Snowfoot, standing before the gate, waiting patiently to be let in.

Quite wild with delight and astonishment, Jack took the lantern and examined horse and vehicle.

“Old Lion! you were right,” he exclaimed. “The scamp must have let the horse go, and taken to his heels. And the horse made for home.”

“The most he cared for was to get off with the money,” said Rufe, not quite so abundantly pleased as his friend. “What’s this thing under the seat?”

“The compass!” said Jack, if possible, still more surprised and overjoyed, “which I accused Zeph of stealing!”

Rufe continued rummaging, and, holding the lantern with one hand, lifted up a limp garment with the other.

“What in thunder? A pair of breeches! Rad’s breeches! Where can the scamp have gone without his breeches? See what’s in the pocket there, Jack.”

Jack thrust in his hand, and brought out some loose bank-notes. He thrust in his hand again, and brought out a pocket-book, containing more bank-notes. It was Mr. Betterson’s pocket-book, and the notes were the stolen money.

Jack was hastily turning them over not counting them, he was too much amazed and excited to do that when the candle in the lantern gave a final flicker and went out, leaving the boys and the mystery of the compass and the money and Rad’s pantaloons enveloped in sudden darkness.