CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

"Where's that man you wanted us to look at?" demanded a farmer
whose trousers were tucked into his boots.

It was about ten o'clock the next forenoon when this man, accompanied
by another man with the same kind of boottops, strode into the
camp of Dick & Co.

"Are you a constable from the village, sir?" inquired young Prescott.

"No; we haven't any constable in the village," replied the farmer,
chewing at a straw. "I'm the Overseer of the Poor."

"We'll take you to where we think the man is hiding," Dick replied.
"Tom and Dave, suppose you two hurry ahead of us, around the
woods, and stand where you can head our man of mystery off in
case he tries to run the other way. Dave knows where the place is."

Reade and Darrin promptly departed.

"We can start in two or three minutes from now, after they get
in position, if that suits you, sir," Dick suggested.

"Suits me," nodded the Overseer of the Poor. "I'm in no great
hurry. Snug camp you boys have here."

"We've enjoyed ourselves greatly," Dick admitted.

"Going to stay here long?"

"No, sir; we're due back in Gridley soon."

After a little more chat Dick stated that he believed it was time
to go forward to the hut in the woods.

He and Greg went, accompanied by the two farmers. All four trod
stealthily. Prescott, in advance, went straight to the bushes
that surrounded the brush hut. Still in the lead, Dick, found
the doorway, screened by a tattered blanket, pushed it aside and
peered in.

On the floor of earth lay the Man with the Haunting Face. He
was so still that at first Dick thought him dead. Dick motioned
to the others to come forward.

"Humph!" grunted the Overseer of the Poor. "That's Ed Hoskins,
who lives over Pelham way."

At sound of the voice the sleeping man quivered, opened his eyes,
then, with a scream, sat up, trembling violently.

"You've got me!" he screamed. "You've found me---and I'm not
yet fit to go!"

Dick stepped aside to let the farmers in, while Darrin and Reade
approached the spot at a run.

"Keep quiet, Hoskins," ordered the Overseer of the Poor. "Quiet,
man; I tell you!"

"Oh, I didn't mean to do it!" moaned the unhappy captive. "I
didn't mean to do it, I tell you! And now I must lose my life
before I'm fit to go."

"'Touched' here," murmured Prescott, tapping his forehead.

"What are you making such a fuss about, Ed Hoskins?" demanded
the Overseer of the Poor.