So d.i.c.k wrote the letter, while others were preparing the noon meal. At one o'clock in the afternoon Tom started, on his round-trip tramp of twenty-two miles.

"A trip like that will take the place of training for one half day," Reade explained.

Hazelton offered to go with him, but Tom declined on the ground that he could get over ground faster without Harry.

It was an hour after dark when Reade returned that night, hot, tired, dusty and hungry. But he had found the correct address of the agency and the letter had started on its journey.

"Your supper is all ready," d.i.c.k announced.

"And I'm ready to meet any supper more than half way," Reade retorted.

"Just a minute, until I wash up."

The other five boys sat and chatted by the table while Tom ate.

"Dan, won't you throw a lot more wood on the fire?" asked d.i.c.k, as the meal came to a close. "We ought to have the camp better lighted than this."

Greg sprang to help Dalzell. Soon the flames leaped up, throwing their ruddy, cheerful glow over the camp and making dancing shadows beyond under the trees.

While they were still chatting over the day's doings, steps were heard, followed by the arrival in camp of two rough-looking, stern-faced men. Dave Darrin sprang to pick up a club.

"You boys haven't been doing anything wrong, have you?" questioned one of the men, with a trace of a smile.

"Of course not," d.i.c.k indignantly replied.

"Then you needn't be afraid of us, though I admit that we do look rough," answered the same man, displaying a badge. "We're officers of the law."

"What can we do for you, sir?" Prescott inquired more respectfully.

"Do you boys know anything about Tag Mosher?" demanded the same speaker.

"Son of Bill Mosher?" d.i.c.k counter-queried.

"The same. Know anything about him?"

"Nothing, except that he bothered us a good deal when we were first camped here," Prescott replied.

"Do you know him by sight, then?"

"We all do."

"When was Tag here last?" pressed the officer.

"About three days ago," d.i.c.k answered. "He stole quite a bit of our food supply."

"That's an old trick of that young tough," rejoined the deputy sheriff. "That's how the boy got the nickname of 'tag.' He won't work, and lives on other people's work. Anything that he can say 'tag' to he thinks belongs to him."

"Then, in other words, sir," asked Dave Darrin, "Tag Mosher is just a plain thief?"

"A good deal that way," replied the deputy. "But with this difference: Up to date Tag never stole anything except what he needed at the moment for his own comfort. He never robbed people to enrich himself, but just to save himself the trouble of working. Now, however, we've a more serious charge against him."

"What?" asked d.i.c.k,

"I don't know whether the courts will call it felonious a.s.sault,"

replied the deputy. "But Tag stole two chickens out of the chicken coop of Henry Leigh, a new farmer in these parts. Leigh trailed Tag to the woods and found him cooking the chickens. Leigh tried to grab Tag, but Tag caught up a big stone and just slammed it against Leigh's head. Leigh is now in bed at home, with a fractured skull, and likely to die. He described Tag to us, and we're after him. The county has put a reward of two hundred and fifty dollars on Tag's head. After we've come up with him I guess it will be many a year before Tag Mosher will have a chance to do any more stealing or fighting. But if you haven't seen him here in three days we may as well be moving on. Thank you. Of course, if you see Tag, you won't tell him anything about our being here?"

"Certainly not, sir," d.i.c.k answered. "By the way, do you want any help?"

"Meaning some of you boys?" asked the deputy.

"Some of us will help you, if we can," d.i.c.k a.s.sured him.

"How many?"

"We ought to leave half our number to guard the camp, for Tag may show up here and wreck things. Three of us can go with you."

"You may run into some ugly fighting, if you go with us," warned the deputy. "Tag Mosher is no coward!"

"We're not afraid of fighting, when we're in the right," Prescott replied promptly.

"Besides, we've got a grudge of our own against Tag Mosher, anyway,"

Dave said.

"Not a grudge, I hope," d.i.c.k rebuked his chum. "But we'll stand by to help the law, if we get a chance."

"I reckon maybe we could use three of you," meditated the deputy aloud. "Boys can beat up woods as well as men. But we may not be able to get you back here before to-morrow noon.

"That will be all right," d.i.c.k a.s.sured him. "Dave and Greg, you'll join me in going with the officers, won't you?"

Darry and Holmes both a.s.sented eagerly.

"If you've any extra grub, then, put it up and come along," urged the deputy. "There's room for five in the automobile we're using."

"How did you men know that we were here?" Reade inquired, while d.i.c.k and Greg made haste to get food together for the trip.

"Saw your campfire," replied the deputy laconically. "We didn't believe Tag would build such a large fire, but we took a chance and looked in. If you haven't anything else to do, young Long-legs, you might pick out three stout clubs for your friends."

Laughing good-naturedly at the nickname, Tom bestirred himself.

Within three minutes all was ready.

d.i.c.k, Dave and Greg stepped away after the officers. Not far away was the road, where the automobile stood with the engine running.

"Does Tag know how to run a car?" Prescott inquired.

"Don't know," replied the deputy.

"If he does, and had happened to be about, he could have taken your car in good shape," smiled d.i.c.k.

"True," nodded the officer, "but there were only two of us, and nabbing Tag Mosher is two men's work."