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"When the truth comes out, Chatz, I'm positive that your theory will be
found pretty near the exact facts," affirmed Elmer.

"But all the time we're jabbering away here," warned Lil Artha,
"remember that they're getting further and further away from us."

"As to that," the patrol leader assured him, "a few minutes don't make
so much difference, and it's always best to start right, so as to avoid
a loss of ten times as much later on by making mistakes. Then again,
I'm pretty sure that man is too smart to think of trying to leave
Sassafras Swamp before night comes, even if he plans to do it then."

Somehow, this intelligence comforted the more impetuous ones. They had
such unlimited faith in Elmer knowing what course was best to pursue
that his judgment was accepted on its face value every time--just as
the Treasury notes of the United States Government are relied upon to
be worth their face denomination in specie.

"About how long ago would you thay they had thkipped out of here?" Ted
asked, as they still lingered, looking to the right and to the left, as
though wanting to make certain nothing valuable in the way of a clue
could have escaped their scrutiny.

"Lil Artha, we're depending on you for that information," suggested
Elmer, although it could not be doubted that he himself was able to
give a pretty good answer, for he had observed certain signs as well as
the tall scout.

"Not more than two hours ago, I'd say, Elmer," Lil Artha ventured, with
considerable confidence manifested in his manner, as though if put to
it he was able to muster all the evidence necessary to establish his
veracity.

"Just about what I thought myself," added the scout-master, with a
satisfied smile. "Two heads are better than one, any day, Lil Artha,
especially when they seem to work together as well as ours do."

"Then the man didn't think to skip out right away after he got back
here, did he?" asked Landy, "because a good many hours have elapsed
since Lil Artha woke us all up with that sudden shot."

"No, he must have slept for some time," answered Elmer, "knowing there
wasn't apt to be any sort of a pursuit in the night. Then again he
relied more or less on having blinded his trail, as a man who had spent
some time in the West among Indians and cowboys would have done. It
wasn't a great while before dawn when he must have aroused poor Hen and
told him they must get away."

"But when do you think our chum could have scribbled that message?"
asked Mark.

"Evidently, after he knew about our being within a mile of him,"
replied Elmer, with a promptness that told how he had figured it all
out. "I suppose the man told him about the khaki soldiers who were in
the swamp looking for them, thinking it would make Hen more frightened
than ever; but we know he guessed the truth about our being his
comrades of the Wolf Patrol."

"Then, believing he would be hurried off again, sooner or later," Mark
continued, "he took the first chance he had to write that message. He
must have fixed it in that split stick, and just as they were leaving
here stuck the wand in the ground, scout fashion."

"We seem to have it all sized up to a dot by now," remarked the leader,
preparing to move; "and as there isn't anything else for us to do here,
suppose we get busy on the trail again, Lil Artha?"

"I'm your chicken, and you can depend on me when it comes to scenting
out a trail, Elmer. Wonder if that man will be up to any more high
jinks in the way of walking along logs, climbing trees, and such
tricks? We'll keep a good lookout for such capers, believe me."

They were soon moving along, the two trackers in the van as before,
with others trailing after. Landy brought up the rear, though Mark
kept a careful eye on him most of the time, as though rather skeptical
about his ability to make progress without getting into some sort of
trouble.

It would be just like clumsy Landy to trip, and make a headlong plunge
into the brown tamarack water of the swamp just when he should have
been most careful. They had known him to do such things more than a
few times in the past; and on this account Mark always made it a point
to drop back and keep him company when he imagined the situation became
acute.

From the rapid manner in which Lil Artha and Elmer picked up the trail
it was plainly evident that so far the unknown fugitive from justice
had not bothered resorting to any of his tricks looking to blinding the
tracks.

He had been compelled to wait for daylight before trying to move
through the swamp, because progress would have been next door to
impossible at night time unless one were familiar with the way, or else
carried a lantern. Neither of these happened to be within his scope,
and so he had to depend upon daylight.

Of course, none of the boys knew what sort of a reception they might
expect when finally they overtook the man they were following. What
little they could gather from various sources inclined them to believe
he must be a pretty desperate sort of customer. The occasional mention
of him in that strange message left by Hen was along those very lines.

He might be armed for all they knew. Such criminals usually are,
though in this case it might be otherwise, Elmer had told them, since
he believed the man had been a prisoner making his escape when first he
struck Sassafras Swamp, and concluded to have his hide-out in its
depths.

Still Lil Artha was not for taking too many chances. As he moved
along, the tall scout managed to keep that reliable gun of his in
position for quick use, should an occasion arise calling for service.

He also tried to glance ahead from time to time, in hopes of locating
any suspicious ambuscade. A sudden attack that would leave himself and
Elmer weaponless might throw the entire party into a state of
helplessness, which would always reflect on their ability as scouts.

They spent half an hour in this fashion, though the trail wound in and
out so much that at the end of that time they could hardly have been
more than a quarter of a mile away from the late camp of the fugitives.

"Did you hear that, Elmer?" whispered Lil Artha, suddenly, throwing out
a hand so as to clutch the other's arm; while everyone became rigid
with suspense.

"It certainly sounded like a cough," admitted the other.

"But I'm dead certain it wasn't from in front of us, but over to the
left, which would be some queer," muttered the tall tracker, staring in
the quarter which he now indicated with outstretched finger.

"I thought the same, Lil Artha," Elmer told him; "but then this trail
twists and turns so much it might get around that way easy enough."

"Of course it might, Elmer."

"All we can do is to keep going along as we are, and some of us watch
for signs of Hen and the man over yonder," added the scout-master.

"Then you don't think it'd pay to strike out to the left?" questioned
the other, who seemed to be hesitating between two opinions.

"We would be silly to quit a sure thing for an uncertainty," said
Elmer, decidedly. "After all our ears may have deceived us, and it
might have only been some queer grunt of a frog, a heron fishing for
minnows, or even a muskrat choking over his dinner. No, we must keep
on as we're going, that's sure."

Lil Artha looked relieved. After all, it pleased the tall scout to
have someone decide a puzzling question like this for him.
Responsibility weighs heavy on the shoulders of many even capable boys,
and they are only too glad to be able to shift it on occasion.

"Just as you say, Elmer, and I reckon you're quite right, too," always
in a low, sibilant tone that would not carry further than a dozen yards
at the most.

They again turned to take up the trail, which just at that point
happened to run through some bushes coming up to their hips. It was
easy to see where those ahead of them had brushed through, for they had
trampled down the lush grass, and brushed aside the tender branches of
the bushes.

Elmer had even bent over to take a good look down at the ground before
setting forth when he heard Toby Jones give a sudden, violent hiss.

Now, that was a well-known sign among the boys of the Wolf Patrol, and
which had served them in good stead many a time in the past. Heard
under such thrilling conditions, it could mean only one thing; Toby had
discovered some sort of danger, and was warning his comrades in order
that they might drop down out of sight.

Every fellow seemed to understand this instantly, for as though they
were all moved by the same controlling influence, they allowed
themselves to sink on their knees amidst the friendly bushes that
afforded such splendid shelter. Even as Elmer dropped thus he had shot
a quick glance toward the left, from which that seeming cough had come,
and saw something that electrified him.

CHAPTER XIV

BOUND TO SUCCEED

No wonder the young scout-master was surprised and thrilled by what he
saw as he crouched there amidst the bushes, and stared over their tops.

Not more than sixty or seventy yards away at the most there appeared to
be a violent commotion among another bunch of brush, as though a number
of unseen parties might be forcing their way through the obstruction.

Even as Elmer, and his chums as well, looked, a figure burst out,
quickly followed by a second, a third, and then still more, until in
all there were six in the queer procession that seemed to be heading
directly for the late hide-out of the swamp fugitives.

What startled the boys most of all was the fact that they knew several
of those who went to make up that strange company. First, there was
Johnny Spreen, the bound boy at the Trotter farm, and who had given
them so many points concerning the swamp he knew so well.

Just behind Johnny walked a consequential looking personage dressed in
a blue uniform, and, with a glittering shield fastened on his left
breast. Well did the Hickory Ridge boys know the Chief of Police in
their own town. Behind him came a second and a third man, also in
uniform, whom they knew to be local "cops;" while the next had the
appearance of having been impressed into the posse; then at the tail
end of the procession came Farmer Trotter, carrying an old musket that
may have done duty in the Civil War, half a century back, for it looked
like a fossil.

"Gosh!"

That was Lil Artha "letting off steam," as he would have termed it; but
he uttered his favorite expression so very low that there was not the
slightest danger of it's being overheard.

"Don't wink an eyelash if you can help it, fellows," whispered Elmer,
who apparently, for reasons of his own, did not want the posse to know
of their presence so near by.

Of course, the others instantly knew what he meant, and if they had
been made of stone it is doubtful whether they could have maintained a
more rigid attitude as they crouched there in the bushes.

Fortunately, all of the posse seemed to be looking ahead. Perhaps they
had been warned by the bound boy that the place to which he was taking
them was not very far distant, which would account for their eagerness.

So they passed on. Elmer kept whispering to his followers not to make
a move unless it was to drop down flat on their faces. Apparently, not
even Landy felt inclined to do this. As long as the Chief and his
gallant posse remained in sight everyone crouched there and took it out
in staring.

Then when even Farmer Trotter had been swallowed up in the scrub, sighs
might have been heard arising from some of the boys' lips, as though
they were relieved to have the suspense ended.

"Never glimpsed us!" remarked Mark, triumphantly.

"Blind as bats in the day-time!" added Landy.

"They didn't happen to turn this way," said Elmer; "and since you all
kept so still I don't believe they'd have noticed us even if they had
looked. I want to say it was well done, boys."

"That was Johnny Spreen, wasn't it?" asked Landy, as though he wanted
to have someone corroborate what his own eyes had told him.

"It certainly was," said Lil Artha. "The farmer wouldn't let him come
with us, but I guess the Chief just swore them both into his posse, and
then they had to come or run up against the law. A sheriff or a police
Chief can do that, you understand; no matter whether a man wants to
serve or not, he's got to."

"And you all noticed, I reckon," remarked Chatz, "that they were making
straight fo' the hide-out where Hen and that man spent the night. That
shows Johnny must have figured out after we left him that it would be a
good place for hiding. What do you all say about it?"

"Oh! there's no question but what you're correct, old top!" Lil Artha
told him in his queer way. "But I'm real tickled because Elmer didn't
take a notion to hail the Chief, and take him in on our deal."

Elmer laughed at that.

"It wasn't any 'Hail to the Chief' this time, you see, Lil Artha," he
remarked. "We have borne the heat and burden of the day, and it wasn't
right that that crowd, coming in at the tail end of the chase, should
share alike with us. Besides, you remember we decided we wanted to get
at poor Hen _before_ the law could lay a hand on him."

"So we did," muttered Chatz.

"But Elmer," objected Toby, "supposing they get to that place, and find
the birds flown, don't you reckon they'll notice that we've been there?"

"So far as the Chief and his men go," returned the other, "I wouldn't
believe them capable of finding out anything except that the camp was
empty. But all the same I suppose they will know about us."

"Meaning that Johnny will see our tracks, and read the story there; is
that it, Elmer?" queried Lil Artha, quick to catch on to the meaning of
the patrol leader's words.

"Yes, Johnny will tell, because he's been hunting furs so long that he
knows a heap about following tracks. When he finds out there were a
lot of boys in the camp he'll guess we discovered the place."

"Mebbe they'll take it for granted we caught the birds, and be ready to
throw up the game then and there?" suggested Toby.

"Hardly that," advised Elmer; "Johnny ought to be able to tell them
different. He would soon learn after looking things over that all our
tracks were made _after_ those of the man, when we left the camp. You
see that must tell him we were pursuing the fellow. I put myself in
Johnny's place; and that's how I believe I'd figure it out."

"A good way to do, too, believe me," said Mark.

"Then in that case," Lil Artha continued, "they'll be coming along
after us before a great while. Whew! if this doesn't beat anything I
ever took part in. It's a continuous procession, boys, winding in and
out through the high lands of old Sassafras Swamp--first Hen and the
man who controls his actions; then seven bold scouts of the Wolf
Patrol; and finally our big puffball of a Chief and his valiant posse
bringing up the rear."

"But we don't want them to overtake us, do we?" asked Landy, actually
meaning to hint that they had better be moving on, which was a
remarkable thing to enter the head of the Smith boy, always the first
to desire a halt.

"We do not," Lil Artha informed him, plainly, "and to prevent such a
horrible catastrophe from happening we expect to be on the jump again
right away, doubling our pace it may be, Landy. The worst is yet to
come, remember."

"Huh! you can't scare me any, Lil Artha," the fat scout told his
tormentor; for he knew very well that with a trail to follow they could
hardly proceed any more rapidly than before.

Progress was immediately resumed. They went forward in about the same
manner as before, with Mark keeping Landy company at the tail-end of
the procession. The situation was now growing more and more serious,
and much depended on whether they could manage to overtake the
fugitives before night came on. A whole day's tramping through the
intricate recesses of the swamp, just as the dry land afforded footing,
was a monumental task that must try the nerve of the best of them; and
Landy, if not one or two others, would be apt to drop out of the ranks
long before sunset came.

Elmer, however, was hopeful that they must overtake those they chased
long before such utter weariness seized upon them. He knew that Hen
Condit himself, although no weakling, could not stand hours upon hours
of continual walking, especially when it consisted of such uncertain
footing as fell to their portion under those conditions.

Complete exhaustion then might compel Hen to beg his companion to
either leave him or else order a halt. One way or the other suited the
scouts just as well, so long as they overtook Hen.

When Landy found that he was puffing from his exertions he took an
extra grip on himself and would not listen to Lil Artha when the tall
scout proposed that he drop out.

"All you have to do is to squat where we leave you, Landy," the other
had told him in a wheedling way; "and after we're done our business
we'll sure promise to look you up again, won't we, Elmer?"

"Nothing doing," snapped Landy, decisively; "what d'ye take me for, Lil
Artha, to desert my poor chum Hen when he needs help so much? I'm a
sticker I want you to know. Adhesive plasters haven't got anything on
me when it comes to standing by you through thick and thin. No use
wasting your breath; save it for your work, say I!"

"Let him be, Lil Artha," said the patrol leader, hardly knowing whether
it was fidelity to a fellow-scout in distress that influenced Landy, or
a dreadful fear lest he find himself left alone in the midst of the
dismal swamp.

"Why yes," added Mark, "Landy is doing all right, even if he does
wheeze more'n is good for him. But he hasn't stumbled more than six
times in the last half hour, which is some record for Landy, you
understand, follows [Transcriber's note: fellows?]."

Apparently, Landy took this as a great compliment, for his perspiring
face was set in a grin of triumph as he thrust out his tongue at Lil
Artha, as much as to say:

"See, Mister Smarty, others appreciate my good qualities if you don't.
So just mind your own business, and leave me alone to attend to mine.
I'll get there or burst a blood-vessel trying. That's the Smith nature
every time."

Having heard Landy talk in this strain many a time the rest of the
scouts could easily put these expressions in his mouth, though he was
too short of breath just then to give them utterance; looks, however,
often count more than mere words.

They had been making splendid progress all this while, and must have
covered considerable distance since the time when they watched the
official posse wind its way past their hiding-place.

Lil Artha and Elmer had once or twice held a low consultation after
making an examination of the tracks they were following.

The others, listening to what the leaders said, found they were
comparing notes, and that it appeared to be the opinion of both Hen was
getting pretty tired. This they could make out in various ways known
to scouts who had made a business of reading the story to be found in
tracks.

"You can see how uneven Hen walks most of the time," said Lil Artha;
"he wobbles even worse than Landy here, which goes to show he's getting
pretty tuckered out. Can you blame the poor fellow when p'raps he's
weak from hunger? If any of us had to go without a bite to eat all day
we'd get wobbly on our pins, too."

There was no dissenting voice raised to this assertion; eating is so
essential to the average boy that nothing on earth can compensate for a
dearth of food at the regular intervals.

"Then we saw several places where Hen had sat down to rest, you
remember," Elmer reminded the other.

"Yes, and the last time it struck us both that the man had yanked him
to his feet again by main force; which I take it wasn't as nice and
kind of that bully as you might expect," Lil Artha went on to say.

"Oh! the coward!" Chatz was heard to growl, and the look on his face as
he said those few words told what he meant to do if ever the
opportunity came his way to strike a blow for the abducted chum.

Filled with renewed determination after this little conference, they
once more took up their task. Lil Artha likened their progress to the
ways of the Siberian wolf that follows its quarry day and night until
in the end its very persistence wins the victory.

"We're in this to the finish," he was fond of saying whenever he had
the chance, "and sooner or later we'll get him. The boys of the Wolf
Patrol mean to stick to their name, and run the prey to the earth. He
just can't get away nohow. All we've got to do is to keep moving, and
believe the game is going to come our way. Everybody put his best foot
forward again. It's for the honor of the patrol, boys, that we get
hold of Hen Condit before the Chief takes him in."

It was now two hours and more since they had started on this new trail.
Before this time no doubt the posse must have reached the deserted
hide-out, and learned that the birds had flown. Yes, it was even
possible that they were coming along the plain trail the seven scouts
had left behind them.

Figuring then that the bulky Chief and his men would not exceed their
own rate of progress, they could count on almost two full hours'
advantage over the others. That surely ought to be an abundance of
time in which to carry out their plans, granting that they could
overtake the fugitives.

Elmer had again cautioned them to keep still. The swamp was very
silent where they now found themselves, and sounds could be carried to
some distance under such conditions.

Landy was getting on fairly well, considering a number of things that
he had to contend with. Indeed, Elmer meant to tell him as much when
he had the chance; for he felt that the stout scout deserved
encouragement. What might seem trifles to some of the others assumed
the aspect of mountains in the eyes of one who was not gifted with
agility by Nature, and had to carry a far greater weight with him than
any of his mates were obliged to.

But here was Lil Artha coming to a full stop again. Looking at him the
others found that the tracker did not seem to be bending over to
examine the trail more closely, as had occurred many times before.

On the contrary, Lil Artha was now raising his head in an expectant
attitude. Landy even conjectured that he must be observing a
woodpecker boring a hole in some rotten tree-top, and was about to try
and follow the supposed line of vision on the part of Lil Artha when he
heard him say something.

It was only a brief sentence, but it meant worlds to those tired trail
followers.

"I smell smoke--wood smoke at that!" was what Lil Artha hissed, as he
continued to sniff vigorously.

CHAPTER XV

WOLF PATROL PLUCK WINS

It was no time for talking, and everyone realized that fact. If they
were close enough to the fugitives to catch the scent of burning wood,
the camp could not be far away.

Elmer and Lil Artha seemed to hit upon the same idea at the same time.
They took note of the prevailing direction of the wind, and guessed
that the fire must be in the quarter from which it was blowing. That
was not exactly straight ahead, but a little to the left.

Making motions to indicate extreme caution, Elmer led the way. Now was
the time for the scouts of the Wolf Patrol to prove the value of their
education. Many times in the past had they practiced this very same
difficult feat of creeping up on the camp of an unsuspecting enemy,
just as a bunch of red Indians might do; and what they had learned
under those conditions was going to prove of practical value to them
now.

No one tried to hurry. What was the use, when those they followed had
come to a halt, and there was no longer any need of haste?

So they went on yard by yard, straining their vision all the while in
hopes of glimpsing the column of smoke, or the crackling flames ahead.
In making this advance they were careful to creep along as close to the
ground as possible. This was an easy matter for a thin fellow like Lil
Artha, but to stout Landy it was quite a different task, though he
succeeded in flattening himself out wonderfully well, all things
considered.

When finally smoke was discovered, their caution increased, if such a
thing were possible. Fortunately, the nature of the ground proved
favorable to such work as creeping, there being a certain amount of
grass that might be used to conceal their movements.

Pretty soon those in the advance could catch sight of a figure seated
on the edge of the bank at a place where the water extended. Back of
him the fire smouldered, as though feeding on wood that had been thrown
upon it some time before.

It was Hen Condit!

Imagine the thrill that passed through Elmer, Lil Artha and those other
fellows when they made this out to be a fact. Pretty soon as they
looked they saw that the missing chum seemed to be engaged in
industriously fishing, for he had a rude rod in his hand, and baited
his hook with some worms even as they watched.

His back was turned toward them, so there was no opportunity for the
newcomers to open negotiations with the fellow-member of the Wolf
Patrol even should they want to.

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