atted with the pretty little chap who played around the
building while his father was assorting the incoming mails. Willie Boggs
had always been a universal favorite. He was the sweetest child in all
Stanhope, and everybody loved him.

Paul was shocked at the news. Still, he hoped it might not be as bad as
Si said.

"Where did it happen? How do they know? Who saw little Willie last? What
has been done to find him?" he fired at the clerk like the discharge of
a Gatling gun.

"Glory! expect me to tell the hull story, with my boss asettin' there
inside the store, watchin' the clock, an' dockin' me for every minute I'm
late? All right, who cares? And besides, Paul, p'raps that troop of yours
might be useful in follerin' the tracks of poor little Willie," Si went
on.

"Where, when, how?" demanded the scout master, resolutely.

"This mornin' it happened. Willie went with Annie Spooner to get some
leaf mould in the edge of the woods, for her ma's flowers. She came back
just at noon an' sed Willie had strayed away in the woods."

"Did anybody go to look for Willie?" asked Paul.

"Three boys went out to bring him in. They hunted high an' low, but he
wa'n't there. Then a dozen people set out to search the woods. Just now
they come back to say Willie ain't to be found high nor low. That stirs
the big chief some. He 'low he knows how the thing's to be did; and so
he's agoin' to organize a hunt for the lost child. That's all. Now, let
me get back to my slave tasks, Paul."

"And night coming on," murmured Paul, as he looked out of the door to
where people were assisting the crippled Mr. Boggs across the square in
the direction of his nearby home, where his wife was no doubt waiting
eagerly for some news of the missing darling.

Si Growdy shot out of the door, and headed in the direction of the store
where he gave his valuable services daily from seven in the morning until
late in the evening, for a miserable pittance.

Paul walked thoughtfully out of the post-office. He was tired from his
exertions of the afternoon; but all that was immediately forgotten when
he mentally pictured the weeping mother in that little cottage where the
honeysuckle climbed above the door. Then he thought of the terror of the
little fellow, wandering about in the great woods with night coming down,
and all sorts of strange noises arising to chill his blood.

"I'll do it!" exclaimed Paul presently; "the chance is too good to be
lost. Why let Ted