The hubbub died away, and an eagerness to listen took its place; for every one of them was anxious to pick up points concerning the clever way their leader figured things out.

It was an important part of a scout's duty to learn how to read signs, not only when following a trail, but at all times.

And especially valuable would this qualification become when confronted by a baffling mystery such as the Hickory Ridge troop was now up against.

"Those who occupied this shack were four in number," Elmer began.

"How did you find that out?" asked Red.

"By the various tracks. So far as I could see there were just four separate kinds leading up to this place, and each one different."

"Hurrah! I tell you, fellows, that's the way to learn things. Elmer knows how to do it," cried Lil Artha.

Without even smiling at the implied compliment Elmer went on:

"Two of them wore shoes with hobnails just as you see on this old cast-off shoe here. A third one had on American-made brogans, and I expect they hurt him some, too, because he was limping as he walked. He is undoubtedly the chap who used to own these old foreign-made gun-boats."

"Hold on a minute, please, Elmer," pleaded Red.

"All right. You want to ask me something, and I think I know what it is," remarked the other.

"You say this fellow's new shoes hurt him, and made him limp; please tell us how in the wide world you ever found that out?" Red continued.

"Well, it might be possible that the fellow was always lame, but his tracks show plainly that he limped. Something was wrong with his left leg or foot, because the toe dug deeply into the ground."

"Well, I declare is that dead-sure evidence, Elmer?" demanded the astounded tenderfoot, Landy, who was listening with all his might to these intensely interesting facts as brought out by the scout master.

"Try it yourself sometime, Landy," remarked Elmer. "Pick out a nice piece of ground where the marks will show plainly. Limp as naturally as you can with the left leg. Then go back and examine the trail. You will find that not only does the left foot dig deeper at the toe than the right one, but that same toe drags a little over the ground as you bring the left foot forward each time."

"Just listen to that, will you!" remarked Red, "but I know Elmer is right. I can grab the principle of the thing."

"But how about the fourth one, Elmer; seems to me you've been holding back something there, that you mean to spring on us," said Lil Artha.

"Well, I have," remarked the other, quickly. "This fourth track was smaller than the others, and the person also wore American-made shoes."

"Ah, a boy, eh?" asked Red.

The scout master shook his head.

"Wrong that time, my boy. You'll have to guess again, I reckon," he said.

"Was it a woman, Elmer?" demanded Lil Artha.

"Just what it was--an Italian woman, squatty like most of her race; and I should say between fifty-five and sixty years of age," Elmer replied, soberly.

CHAPTER IX.

SETTING A TRAP.

At that there arose new exclamations of wonder, as well as of disbelief.

"Oh, come off, now," remarked Red, quite forgetting in his amazement the respect supposed to be shown for an acting scout master, even though in the private walks of life he might only be a fellow playmate; "you can't expect us to swallow that, now, Elmer."

"Do you mean about the woman's height, or her age?" asked the other, calmly.

"Why--er--both I guess," faltered Red, weakening as he saw the positive front of the other.

"Stop and think, did you ever see any other than a short, squatty woman among the Italian laborers? And I reckon n.o.body else ever did. They carry heavy burdens on their heads, and people say that's one reason they're always dumpy," Elmer began.

"He's right, fellows," broke out Landy; "why, I've seen a dago woman carrying a mattress, a stove and some chairs on her head all at the same time. Gee, looked like a two-legged moving van:"

"But see here, you notice a shelf with a few things on it, some hairpins among the lot. It was built unusually low, so _she_ could reach it. And what's this you see here, fellows? A piece of broken looking gla.s.s fastened to the wall. Notice how low down it is? No man ever used that gla.s.s, you can depend on it; and the woman who did was surely small, wasn't she now?"

"A regular sawed-off," a.s.sented Lil Artha, emphatically.

"Elmer's sure proved his point there, fellows," declared Red Huggins, grinning.

"But what makes you think the woman is old, Elmer?" asked Landy, curiously.

"That's so; how in the wide world could you know such a thing without ever seeing her?" demanded Toby.

"Nothing could be easier, fellows; see here!"

As Elmer spoke he reached out his hand and took something off the low shelf.

Those in the room crowded around, fairly wild to follow out the clever deduction of their young leader.

"Why, it's a comb," cried one.

"Only an old broken comb," echoed another, with a shade of uncertainty in his voice.

"What is there about that to tell you, Elmer?" queried Red, staring first at the article in question, and then at the smiling scout master.

"I know," burst out Matty just then.

"Tell us," pleaded several.

"Yes, throw some light on the dark mystery," added Lil Artha, "because to the untrained eye it's all as gloomy as the inside of my pocket. A comb, and how to tell a woman's age from that! Well, I own up beat."

"Why, it's as easy as falling off a log, or coming down in a smash when you're first learning how to fly," Matty began.

"Hey, don't you drag me into this thing," spoke up Toby, whose many experiments as a new beginner in the science of aviation had usually ended in his enjoying a disastrous tumble.

"All you have to do is to examine the comb," Matty went on. "Then you'll find that it holds a few long hairs, and, fellows, just see how gray they are, will you?"