y she believes that one confidant is enough. Indeed, I'm rather
surprised that Ingua ventured to confide in me."

"Is it so serious, then?"

"If her fears are justified," replied Josie gravely, "it is _very_
serious."

"But _are_ they justified?" urged Mary Louise.

"Ingua is a child, and very sensitive to impressions. But she is a
shrewd child and, living a lonely life, has had ample time to consider
the problems that confront her. Whether she is right or wrong in her
conjectures, time will determine. But don't question me further,
please, or you will embarrass me. To-morrow I want to go to the city,
which is the county seat. Will you go with me? And can we get Uncle
Eben to drive us over in the car?"

"I'll ask Gran'pa Jim."

Colonel Hathaway was rather amused at the efforts of the two girls to
fathom the mystery of Old Swallowtail, but he was willing to assist in
any practical way. So Uncle Eben drove them to the county seat next day
and Josie spent several hours in the county clerk's office and paid a
visit to the chief of police, who knew her father, John O'Gorman, by
reputation. Mary Louise shopped leisurely while her friend was busy
with her investigations and at last they started for home, where they
arrived in time for dinner. On the way, Mary Louise inquired if Josie
had secured any information of importance.

"A little," said the girl detective. "For one thing, old Hezekiah Cragg
pays taxes on just one bit of land besides that little homestead of
his. It is a five-acre tract, but the assessment puts it at an
astonishingly low valuation--scarcely ten per cent of the value of all
surrounding property. That strikes me as queer. I've got the plat of it
and to-morrow we will look it up."

They found it was not easy to locate that five acres, even with a map,
when the two girls made the attempt the next forenoon. But finally, at
the end of a lonely lane about a mile and a half from the village, they
came upon a stony tract hemmed in by low hills, which seemed to fit the
location described. The place was one mass of tumbled rocks. Little
herbiage of any sort grew there and its low assessment value was easily
explained. The surrounding farms, all highly cultivated, backed up to
the little waste valley, which was fenced out--or rather in--by the
owners of the fertile lands. One faintly trodden path led from the bars
of the lane the girls were in toward Mr. Cragg's five acres of stones,
but amid the jumble of