ething into view.

There was an immediate craning of necks, and then from several came the
significant cry:

"It is the black mask, all right! He's the guilty bell-ringer, Peter!"

"What's all this you're talking about, you sillies? I never saw that
thing before. Somebody must have stuck it in my pocket for a joke!" and
Ward stopped struggling, as if he knew it would no longer be to his
advantage.

When caught in a hole he could whip around like a flash, and change his
tactics almost in an instant.

"Oh! is that so?" remarked Paul, with a laugh; "well, I happened to
remember just now I saw a mask that looked very much like this, down in
the corner of Chromo's news-store a few days ago. Now, I'm going to ask
Peter to take it to him, in my company, and find out who bought it. At
this time of year there isn't such a sale for these things but what Mr.
Chromo will remember."

"Huh! think you're smart, don't you, Morrison? Even supposing I did buy
it, you can't prove I ever wore it. I defy you to," Ward gritted his
teeth; and somehow his manner reminded Paul of a wolf at bay.

"Snap!"

The match which Paul struck flared up. Ward was staring at his captor, a
sneer on his handsome face.

"Hold up his hands, fellows," said the young scout leader, suddenly; and
almost before the prisoner realized what this move might mean, the
burning match hovered over his blackened hands.

Peter uttered a snort of delight.

"Dot fix it mit you, mine friendt," he said, nodding his grizzled head
as if pleased to find that Paul's prediction had come true. "Dey dells
me dot poy vat rings de pell undt runs drough de church, he have his
hand placked like he vas a negro. Dot pe you, Misder Ward Kenvood. I
schnaps mine fingers at your vader's influenza. I shall dell de drustees
of de church who rings dot pell. Den it pe up to dem to say vat shall pe
done. Let him go, poys!"

Of course Bobolink, Jud and Nuthin immediately released their hold on
Ward. The last flicker of the expiring match showed that the recent
prisoner was scowling most hatefully, as if angry at the way he had been
trapped.

"This isn't the last of this, you fellows!" he said, trying to keep up
his customary threatening tactics, even in defeat. "Perhaps you think it
smart to set up a game on me, just because you're afraid I'll organize a
hike of my friends that'll walk all around that punk expedition of
yours! But just wait; I'll show you that you're barking up the wro