you in a railroad wreck. Your
real father is a man of wealth. He is nearly broken down from
the many anxieties of trying to find you. He spent last night
at our camp. This morning he and friends of his started off to
find you. Tag, come back here, and I'll take you into camp."

"No, thank you!" leered the larger boy. "I've been taken into
camp before, and you're the lad that turned the trick. You turned
me over to Valden and Simmons, and they turned me over to the
warden at the jail. I'm not going back to that jail---_alive_!"

"You foolish fellow! Can't you understand?" bellowed Dick, following
Tag as he once more turned away. "I'm telling you the truth,
and your father is only too anxious to employ all his wealth in
protecting whatever rights you may have. Bill Mosher was seen
at the jail yesterday, and he admitted that you were not his son,
but that he found you as a baby at a railroad wreck! Tag, use
your brains, for once, and come back to camp to meet your father!"

"Good-bye!" laughed the larger boy derisively, increasing his
fast walk to a run.

Desperately, Dick Prescott followed. As Tag sprinted, so did
the high school boy.

Looking back, young Mosher tripped over a root, and fell heavily.
The revolver flew from his hand landing several feet away. Prescott
was now so close that Tag sprang to his feet and ran on without
making any effort to recover his lost weapon.

Then the larger boy dived into a thicket. He did not appear again.
Master of every hidden path in these forests, he seemed likely
enough to get away without leaving a trace of a trail.

Dick halted, brought to his senses by the realization that he
had deserted the three high school girls who had been entrusted
to his escort. He turned about. At the spot where Tag had tripped
he bent over to pick up the abandoned revolver.

One glance into the cylinder was enough. There wasn't a cartridge
in the weapon.

"Just as I thought," laughed Dick triumphantly. "Tag had no notion
of shooting anyone. For fear he might do so, if too closely cornered,
he threw away the ammunition. He relied on the bad reputation
of the Moshers to make officers hesitate if they encountered him
with firearms in his hands."

Then Prescott called for the girls, whom he quickly rejoined.

"You didn't catch him?" asked Laura.

"Not I," laughed Dick. "He knows every trail in these woods and
in a sprint, Tag Mosher could leave me hitched to a tree."