they had not been able to
make head nor tail of them. The lads liked mysteries, but they liked
them chiefly for the fun of solving them. And they seemed no nearer to
solving this one than they had been in the beginning.

"I know it's a fool idea," said Herb sheepishly. "But since we were the
ones that got Cassey his jail sentence before, I kind of feel as if we
were responsible for him."

"It's pretty lucky for us we're not," remarked Joe. "We certainly would
be up against it."

On and on the boys went. Presently Joe began to whistle and all joined
in until suddenly Jimmy uttered a cry and went down on his face.

"Hello, what's wrong?" questioned Bob, leaping to his chum's side.

"Tripped on a tree root," growled Doughnuts, rising slowly. "Gosh! what
a spill I had."

"Better look where you are going," suggested Herb.

"I don't see why they can't chop off some of these roots, so it's better
walking."

"All right--you come down and do the chopping," returned Joe, lightly.

"Not much! The folks that own the woods can do that."

"Don't find fault, Jimmy. Remember, some of these very roots have
furnished us with shinny sticks."

"Well, not the one I tripped over."

It was some time later that the boys noticed that they had tramped
further than they had intended. They were on the very outskirts of the
town, and before them the heavily-wooded region stretched invitingly.

Jimmy, who, on account of his plumpness, was not as good a hiker as the
other boys, was for turning back, but the other three wanted to go on.
And, being three against one, Jimmy had not the shadow of a chance of
getting his own way.

It was cool in the shadows of the woods, and the boys were reminded that
it was still early in the season. It was good to be in the woods, just
the same, and they tramped on for a long way before they finally decided
it was time to turn back.

They were just about to turn around when voices on the path ahead of
them made them hesitate. As they paused three men came into full view,
and the boys stood, staring.

Two of the men they had never seen before, but the other they knew well.
It was the man whose voice they had been trailing all these weeks--Dan
Cassey, the stutterer!

CHAPTER XI

DOWN THE TRAP DOOR

It seemed that in the semi-darkness of the woods Cassey did not at once
recognize the radio boys. He was talking excitedly to his companions in
his stuttering tongue and he was almost upon the