"Then you've sensed the meaning of his present communication, have you, Elmer?" questioned Mark, a little bit given to stilted language.

"I can read it all right," was the reply he received, "but understanding the gist of it is another thing. The sentences seem disconnected, and some of them are queer. When Hen wrote this he must either have been half out of his mind, or else he was in great fear of something, or _somebody_!"

Of course, when the scout-master said this, it produced something of a sensation among the other six fellows. They exchanged grave looks, while Lil Artha was seen to shake his head, and give that gun of his a little tilt upwards, as though he now believed more than ever the time was near at hand when he would be compelled to make some sort of use of the same, in order to save the kidnapped chum.

"Please read it out to us, Elmer!" begged Landy.

"Yeth, we're wondering what it can all be about," added Ted Burgoyne.

"Then listen, and please don't interrupt me until I finish," said Elmer. "This is what Hen's written with a lead pencil on this sheet of paper, which I think he must have torn from a little memorandum book I happen to know he always carries about in his pocket."

He held the crumpled paper closer to his eyes, for in places the writing was rather faint, and in two particular spots Elmer had to guess at a word, for evidently a drop of something, perhaps a salty tear, had fallen on the paper, blurring the work of the lead pencil stub.

"Boys, perhaps you'll get this--he says he counted seven and everyone wore a khaki uniform--he thinks you must be the militia--course I know better--but it's no use, you just can't help me--I'm a goner, and the most miserable boy on earth--but I say on the honor of a scout I never meant to do it--I've just got to disappear--maybe I'll let you hear from me if ever I get Out West where they can't find me. Oh! what hard luck, but I have to do whatever he says, no matter what I want. I'm meaning to leave this behind in the scout way, and don't I hope you'll find it. There, he's calling to me to hurry, for we're going to quit this hide-out and try to escape. I'm awful hungry, too. Better leave me to my fate unless you can find a way to seal his lips. That's all.

Hen."

"Great Caesar!" exclaimed Lil Artha, who had hung on every word spoken by Elmer. "That proves one of two things. Either our poor pard is looney, or else he's got in the power of a rascal who controls his mind. I always knew Hen was weak in the upper story just a teenty mite. Poor old chap, we've got to find him if it takes us till Christmas. You hear me talking now!"

"Yeth, and we all thay the thame!" burst from Ted, as he doubled his none too expansive fists, and looked as savage as he could.

Indeed, a hasty glance around just then would have told any observer that this strange message, filled with despair and yearning, left by Hen Condit in the crotch of a stick thrust into the ground, had renewed their former resolution not to give over the search until they had either found the missing chum or exhausted every known device looking to success.

"If you asked me," said Elmer, "I'd say the answer to the riddle lay between the two things you mention, Lil Artha. Hen is crazed almost, but it is with fear. He finds himself in the power of a brute who is using him for his own purposes. How it's been done, of course, we can only guess, but the boy believes he has been forced to rob his guardian, and that a posse is searching right now for him, with the intention of putting him in jail. That explains his panic."

"And say, he tells us right at the end of his note that he's some hungry," Lil Artha went on to remark; "and, according to my notion, that condition is next door to being insane. Why, mebbe the poor fellow hasn't had a solitary bite for a whole day or even two of 'em.

I pity him from the bottom of my heart."

"Notice what he incidentally says near the end," added Elmer. "'Better leave me to my fate unless you can find a way to seal his lips.' That seems to strengthen our theory, doesn't it?"

"All this mention of 'he' must stand for the unknown man who has got Hen, of course?" ventured Mark.

"Couldn't be anybody else," the patrol leader made answer; "in fact, Hen just now doesn't seem able to even think of any other person."

"The fellow is no common rascal, let me tell you, suh," Chatz declared.

"He must have been some sort of professor along the lines of magic, perhaps a hypnotist who performed wonders on the stage before crowds, and then dabbled in things that the law sat down on, which landed him in the penitentiary finally."

"When the truth comes out, Chatz, I'm positive that your theory will be found pretty near the exact facts," affirmed Elmer.

"But all the time we're jabbering away here," warned Lil Artha, "remember that they're getting further and further away from us."

"As to that," the patrol leader a.s.sured him, "a few minutes don't make so much difference, and it's always best to start right, so as to avoid a loss of ten times as much later on by making mistakes. Then again, I'm pretty sure that man is too smart to think of trying to leave Sa.s.safras Swamp before night comes, even if he plans to do it then."

Somehow, this intelligence comforted the more impetuous ones. They had such unlimited faith in Elmer knowing what course was best to pursue that his judgment was accepted on its face value every time--just as the Treasury notes of the United States Government are relied upon to be worth their face denomination in specie.

"About how long ago would you thay they had thkipped out of here?" Ted asked, as they still lingered, looking to the right and to the left, as though wanting to make certain nothing valuable in the way of a clue could have escaped their scrutiny.

"Lil Artha, we're depending on you for that information," suggested Elmer, although it could not be doubted that he himself was able to give a pretty good answer, for he had observed certain signs as well as the tall scout.

"Not more than two hours ago, I'd say, Elmer," Lil Artha ventured, with considerable confidence manifested in his manner, as though if put to it he was able to muster all the evidence necessary to establish his veracity.

"Just about what I thought myself," added the scout-master, with a satisfied smile. "Two heads are better than one, any day, Lil Artha, especially when they seem to work together as well as ours do."

"Then the man didn't think to skip out right away after he got back here, did he?" asked Landy, "because a good many hours have elapsed since Lil Artha woke us all up with that sudden shot."

"No, he must have slept for some time," answered Elmer, "knowing there wasn't apt to be any sort of a pursuit in the night. Then again he relied more or less on having blinded his trail, as a man who had spent some time in the West among Indians and cowboys would have done. It wasn't a great while before dawn when he must have aroused poor Hen and told him they must get away."

"But when do you think our chum could have scribbled that message?"

asked Mark.

"Evidently, after he knew about our being within a mile of him,"

replied Elmer, with a promptness that told how he had figured it all out. "I suppose the man told him about the khaki soldiers who were in the swamp looking for them, thinking it would make Hen more frightened than ever; but we know he guessed the truth about our being his comrades of the Wolf Patrol."

"Then, believing he would be hurried off again, sooner or later," Mark continued, "he took the first chance he had to write that message. He must have fixed it in that split stick, and just as they were leaving here stuck the wand in the ground, scout fashion."

"We seem to have it all sized up to a dot by now," remarked the leader, preparing to move; "and as there isn't anything else for us to do here, suppose we get busy on the trail again, Lil Artha?"

"I'm your chicken, and you can depend on me when it comes to scenting out a trail, Elmer. Wonder if that man will be up to any more high jinks in the way of walking along logs, climbing trees, and such tricks? We'll keep a good lookout for such capers, believe me."

They were soon moving along, the two trackers in the van as before, with others trailing after. Landy brought up the rear, though Mark kept a careful eye on him most of the time, as though rather skeptical about his ability to make progress without getting into some sort of trouble.

It would be just like clumsy Landy to trip, and make a headlong plunge into the brown tamarack water of the swamp just when he should have been most careful. They had known him to do such things more than a few times in the past; and on this account Mark always made it a point to drop back and keep him company when he imagined the situation became acute.

From the rapid manner in which Lil Artha and Elmer picked up the trail it was plainly evident that so far the unknown fugitive from justice had not bothered resorting to any of his tricks looking to blinding the tracks.

He had been compelled to wait for daylight before trying to move through the swamp, because progress would have been next door to impossible at night time unless one were familiar with the way, or else carried a lantern. Neither of these happened to be within his scope, and so he had to depend upon daylight.

Of course, none of the boys knew what sort of a reception they might expect when finally they overtook the man they were following. What little they could gather from various sources inclined them to believe he must be a pretty desperate sort of customer. The occasional mention of him in that strange message left by Hen was along those very lines.

He might be armed for all they knew. Such criminals usually are, though in this case it might be otherwise, Elmer had told them, since he believed the man had been a prisoner making his escape when first he struck Sa.s.safras Swamp, and concluded to have his hide-out in its depths.

Still Lil Artha was not for taking too many chances. As he moved along, the tall scout managed to keep that reliable gun of his in position for quick use, should an occasion arise calling for service.

He also tried to glance ahead from time to time, in hopes of locating any suspicious ambuscade. A sudden attack that would leave himself and Elmer weaponless might throw the entire party into a state of helplessness, which would always reflect on their ability as scouts.

They spent half an hour in this fashion, though the trail wound in and out so much that at the end of that time they could hardly have been more than a quarter of a mile away from the late camp of the fugitives.

"Did you hear that, Elmer?" whispered Lil Artha, suddenly, throwing out a hand so as to clutch the other's arm; while everyone became rigid with suspense.

"It certainly sounded like a cough," admitted the other.

"But I'm dead certain it wasn't from in front of us, but over to the left, which would be some queer," muttered the tall tracker, staring in the quarter which he now indicated with outstretched finger.

"I thought the same, Lil Artha," Elmer told him; "but then this trail twists and turns so much it might get around that way easy enough."

"Of course it might, Elmer."

"All we can do is to keep going along as we are, and some of us watch for signs of Hen and the man over yonder," added the scout-master.

"Then you don't think it'd pay to strike out to the left?" questioned the other, who seemed to be hesitating between two opinions.