."

"Then why didn't you run away with us?" Dave called out.

"That isn't my style," proclaimed Dutcher, throwing out his chest. "I'm
no baby."

"No; you're the one hero of the whole outfit," grinned Tom.

"Did they catch old Fitsey?" queried Hen.

"Thanks to you, Hen, they didn't," Dave answered.

"Me? What did I have to do with the scoundrel getting away?" demanded
Dutcher, with an offended air.

"You had to turn your voice loose," Darrin informed him. "That gave Mr.
Fits warning. Then you yelled out again, just as we reached the cabin.
Fits had had time to get on his snowshoes, and then he started. Whew,
but snowshoes seem to be as swift as skates would be on the ice."

"Huh! You needn't blame me," sniffed Hen. "I didn't have anything to do
with the rascal getting away. I'd have gone after him if I had had
snowshoes."

The absurdity of this was so apparent that Dick & Co. burst into a
chorus of laughter.

"Huh!" sneered Hen, though his face went very red. "You fellows think
you're the only winds that ever blew."

"You wrong us, Hen," declared Tom solemnly. "Not one of us would lay any
claim to 'blowing' as much as you do."

One thing the boys had noted, even while carrying on their conversation,
and that was that no sounds of shots had come to their ears. The chances
were that Mr. Fits had gained so on his pursuers that the latter had
given up the chase.

Presently appetite asserted itself, and dinner was prepared and eaten.
It was after the meal that Constable Dock and his deputy came by the
door.

"Any thing in there to eat, youngsters?" inquired the constable, looking
in through the doorway.

"Plenty, I think. Come in, sir--you and your friend," Dick made answer.

The boys bustled about, making coffee, broiling steak and reheating the
potatoes that had been left over from their own meal. This, with bread
and butter, satisfied the hunger of their guests.

In the meantime the constable described how he and his friend had
followed the game for some five miles or more.

"It's my opinion that the scoundrel won't come back here at all,"
declared the officer.

"We have been afraid that he would, by night, or later," admitted Dick
Prescott.

"No!" retorted the constable with emphasis. "That rascal would figure
that I would be lying in wait here for him. So he'll give the spot a
wide berth. He doesn't want to be arrested."

"You'll be welcome to use the cook shack, if you want to wait there for