Joe Brace had a very good idea of why the superintendent wished to see him, and he entered the office prepared to speak his mind plainly.

“I understand that you have not been working for the past day or two,” Mr. Wright began.

“That’s correct.”

“Have you left our employ?”

“It amounts to pretty much that.”

“Has Thomas quit also?”

“When a man knows that he’s to be arrested, he ain’t likely to hang ’round so’s the warrant can be served without much trouble to the constable.  But jest now Bill isn’t in a condition to work for anybody.”

“What’s the matter?”

“He broke his leg, an’ a lot of the boys have brought him to the Widder Byram’s house.”

“I hadn’t heard of that.”

“It’ll come kinder rough on the constable.”

“I understand to what you refer, Brace, and am not pleased to hear you speak in such a manner.”

“It can’t be helped, sir.  When a feller sees them as risked everything to do the company a good turn while Billings had full sway, run down an’ chucked into jail for nothin’, it makes him feel sore.”

“There was good reason for the arrest of Sam Thorpe.”

“Even admittin’ that’s so, which I don’t, why should Fred Byram an’ Bill be pulled into the fuss?  There’s nothin’ to connect them with it.”

“They have acted very suspiciously ever since the money was said to have been lost.”

“That’s where you are makin’ a big mistake, Mr. Wright.  I’ve had a hand in all their maneuvers, an’ so has the widder, consequently if one is guilty the whole crowd are.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t explain yet awhile; but it’ll come out before long, when you’ll see everything was square an’ above board.”

“Look here, Brace,” Mr. Wright said, in a friendly tone:  “I called you in here to have a confidential chat upon the subject, and it is not right to keep from me anything which may have a bearing on the matter.”

“What I know can’t be told for a while; but I’ll give you the particulars of what we’ve already found out,” and without further questioning Joe related the events of the past three days, save so far as they were connected with the discovery of the vein.

“It surely looks suspicious,” the superintendent said, musingly; “but I fail to understand how those boys could have gotten the money from Sam’s pocket, unless he remained in town skylarking with them.”

“That’s somethin’ I can’t explain; but when I find Fred we’ll know a good deal more about the matter.”

“Do you think anything could be accomplished by my visiting Sam?”

“I’m certain of it, for one talk with him is bound to convince you he isn’t a thief.”

The superintendent remained silent several moments, and it seemed very much as if this second conversation with Joe had caused a change of opinion.

“Very well,” he said finally, “I will think the matter over.  Shall you be here in the morning?”

“I’m goin’ to leave Farley’s as soon as I get a bite to eat, an’ it ain’t likely I’ll be back ’till Fred can come with me.”

Mr. Wright arose to intimate that the interview was at an end, and Joe left the store with a gesture of defiance and anger toward the cashier.

While all this was taking place Fred occupied anything rather than an enviable position.

When the march was begun he found it extremely difficult to make his way through the woods, loaded down as he was and with one arm tied to his side; but Gus had no mercy.  At every opportunity he spurred the prisoner on, using a stout stick for the purpose, and more than once was Fred on the point of open rebellion.

He felt confident the boys would not dare do more than give him a cruel flogging, after which they must leave him behind; but this would be to lose sight of the thieves, and almost anything was preferable to being thus defeated in his purpose.

“I’ll stick it out,” he said to himself, “and wait for the time when I can tell the story to some one who will help make them prisoners.”

During an hour the boys traveled straight ahead, and then Gus insisted upon a halt.

Tim agreed, because his breakfast had not been perfectly satisfactory, and he wanted a second meal now they were, as he believed, free from pursuit.

The provisions were brought out from the bag, and as the two boys began to eat Fred’s hunger returned with such a force that he could not resist the impulse to ask for food.

“Say, if you’ll give me some of that bread I’ll carry all the load when we start again.  I haven’t had a mouthful since I left Blacktown.”

“An’ you’ll go without two or three days longer,” Gus replied with malicious pleasure.  “You’ll have the whole load, an’ no trade about it either, so hold your tongue or I’ll use the stick again.”

Tim laughed as if he thought it great sport to hear the prisoner begging for food, and Fred threw himself upon the ground, resolving not to give them another opportunity for mirth.

“If there’s a chance to get hold of the bag to-night I’ll help myself,” he thought.  “It can’t be stealing, for I’m surely entitled to a share when they force me to stay with them.”

Gus amused himself for a while by thrusting food close to the prisoner’s face and then withdrawing it, but he tired of this when Fred made no effort to take what he knew was not intended for him.

The halt continued about an hour, and then, as Gus had threatened, both packages were placed on Fred’s shoulders.

“Now step out livelier than you did before, for we don’t want to make another halt until we are ready to build a camp,” Tim said, as he began the advance.

“Treat me decent an’ I’ll travel as fast as you can.”

“You ain’t gettin’ it half as bad as you deserve, an’ it’d be a good idea to keep your mouth shut.”

As during the first portion of the journey, Gus amused himself by prodding the prisoner with a stick, but as the day lengthened and Tim refused to halt, the boy grew too weary to indulge in such pleasantries.

In order that Fred might carry all the burden, it was necessary to unloosen both his hands, and, without being observed by his companions, he contrived to transfer several crackers from the bag to his pocket.

The second stage of the journey lasted nearly two hours, and then Tim decided the camp should be erected on the bank of a small stream.

They were now, according to Fred’s belief, not more than twenty miles from Blacktown, and a trifle less than that distance from Farley’s.

As far away as the eye could reach was a town, but no one knew its name.

“We might have stayed nearer home if the camp is to be made so close to a settlement,” Gus said fretfully.

“While we keep out of sight nobody’ll know we’re here, an’ in case we want to leave suddenly on the cars, it won’t be far to walk.  I’d like to get hold of a boat, an’ then we could run down the stream without much trouble.”

“Why not buy one?”

“After a day or two we’ll find out if there is any near.  Just now we must get the camp built, an’ then take things comfortable for awhile.”

Fred watched Tim’s every movement in order to learn where the money would be hidden; but failed to see any attempt at burying it.  The protuberance just over his breast served to show the treasure was yet in his possession, and Gus seemed well content it should remain there.

The prisoner was ordered to hew the materials for the camp while the others put them together, and during this work he contrived to eat the stolen crackers.

The shelter was a rude affair, hardly more than sufficient to protect them from the rays of the sun, and when completed all hands lay down to rest, Fred being bound hand and foot again to prevent any attempt at escape.

Not until night was the prisoner given food, and then Gus doled out two crackers, an amount which would have been little more than an aggravation if he had not previously ministered to his own wants.

During the hours of darkness no watch was kept; but Fred remained awake nearly all the time, straining his ears in the vain hope that he might hear something of Bill.

The second and third days were but repetitions of the first, and then it became necessary to visit the village in order to procure food.

“I’ll walk up the stream ’till a place to cross is found,” Tim said, “an’ if I don’t see a boat before then, will strike out for the town.  Keep your eye on the sneak, an’ don’t give him a chance to get away.”

“Help me fix the ropes around his legs a little tighter, an’ I’ll answer for it that he won’t go far.”

Tim complied with this request, and when Fred was trussed up like a chicken, he took from his pocket the stolen money.

“It won’t do to carry all this, so you’d better take care of it a while.  Ten dollars will be enough for me, even if I should happen to come across the boat.”

Subtracting this amount from the total, he gave the remainder to Gus, who put it carelessly in his pocket as if accustomed to handling large sums of money.

Then he started along the bank of the stream, his companion accompanying him a short distance, and Fred realized that the time had come when he must make one desperate attempt to take his jailer prisoner.

“Gus has got nearly all the money,” he said to himself, “and if I could manage to slip the ropes it would only be a question of a fight, in which I’m almost certain to get the upper hand.”

He had been left seated with his back against the trunk of a tree, and the first move necessary was to release his arms.

To do this he struggled desperately, regardless of the pain; but the bonds remained firm until Gus returned, when, as a matter of course, he did not dare to make any further movement.

“Now Tim is so far away that he can’t interfere, I’m going to pay you off for playin’ the sneak,” Gus said, as he took up his station directly in front of the prisoner.  “If I had my way you shouldn’t have a bite to eat from now out, an’ by the time we get ready to leave you couldn’t do much mischief.”

“If you’re afraid, why not kill me?  That’s the safest plan.”

“I’d like to,” was the savage reply, “an’ would if I was sure of not bein’ pulled up for murder.  I can give you a lively time for the next two or three hours, though.”

Gus began to fulfill his promise by tickling Fred’s nose with a twig, and the prisoner was by no means averse to the cruel sport, since it gave him a good excuse to struggle.

He writhed and twisted as if to move beyond reach of his tormentor; but all the while his sole aim was to release his hands, and Gus was so deeply engrossed with the efforts to cause pain that he failed to understand what his victim might succeed in doing.