are the only ones that know who Jib Jab is. What are
we going to do about it? And another thing, would it be all right for
scouts to take a reward like that? Something for a service?"

"Sure it would be all right," I told him; "something for a service means
tips and things like that. Scouts can take presents and win rewards, I
hope. Didn't Pee-wee win an extra helping of pie up at camp for keeping
still all through dinner? Mr. Ellsworth said it was all right."
Gee, Dorry couldn't answer that argument.

"You should worry about its being an right," I said; "but, oh boy, if we
make a mistake we'll spoil everything. We have to watch our step. We've
just got to make Brent Gaylong discover that fellow without any help. If we
don't, _good night!_ he'll never claim the reward. I know that fellow."

"Maybe we'd better tell Harry; Donnelle," Dorry said.

"That's just what I was thinking," I told him; "because maybe he can think
of a way."

So as soon as we could, we got Harry off in the woods alone. There wasn't
much time, because we were all going to hit the trail for Newburgh after
breakfast.

I said, "Harry, that freak fellow in the circus is the same fellow who's
picture was in the paper; he's Horace E. Chandler, I'm positive."

He said, "I told you if you ate too many of those flapjacks last night,
you'd be dreaming dreams."

"All right," I told him, "you remember about Marshal Foch; how you said he
was a calf?"

"Let's have a squint at the picture," Harry said; "these remarkable
discoveries of yours are getting to be a bad habit. A leopard is bad
enough, but a _what-is-it!_"

So we showed him the picture and he screwed up his face and looked at it
awful funny. Then he read the article all through.

"Well, so you think that's Wandering Horace, do you?" he asked.

I said, "Yes, because his hair is the same, and that funny kind of a look
in his eye and everything. You've got to admit Jib Jab is human. He's a
nice fellow, too. I bet he'd want to see these fellows get the reward."

Harry said, "Yes, I don't exactly hold it against him that he's human; he
couldn't help it I suppose. I'm kind of human myself. But just suppose, for
the fun of it, that you're right--"

"There's no fun about it," I told him; "Dorry and I both saw him."

"All right," he said; "and you want to sacrifice him to the Church Mice.
You want to put them on his trail. How do _we_ know he wants to be
discovered?"

"It's a good turn," Dorry s