Prescott, I'll tell you something. I've kept the cupboard full by stealing. I'll admit that. But I never stole money before to-day. I went through those dog-houses---what do you call them?"

"Do you mean the portable houses of the Bentley party?" asked d.i.c.k.

"I guess that's the right name. Anyway, I went through those houses to gather in some food, for I was going to leave these woods for good and all."

"So I guessed," nodded d.i.c.k.

"And I came across two twenty dollar bills. Prescott, I've always helped myself to food, because, some way, it always seemed to me that food belongs to the fellow who needs it most. But I had never taken any money, before, from anyone. That's honest---flat!

But the twenties looked fine to me. They would carry me a long way on the railroad, and I haven't had any notion to stay here and go to jail for something I didn't do anyway. So I took the money, the grub, too, and stepped off fast through the woods.

But, Prescott, you may believe me or not, that money got heavier with every step. Remember, I've never had any practice in stealing money. By the time I'd gone three or four miles that money in my pocket got so heavy that I couldn't drag my feet another step.

I took the money out and threw it away. But that didn't help me any, either, so I went back, found the money, and started back this way to put that money back where I got it. I never knew that anything I helped myself to would grow so heavy, but back I had to come with that money. I can't understand what made me feel that way about a little money. Maybe it was"

"Conscience," suggested d.i.c.k promptly.

"Conscience?" repeated Tag wonderingly. "What's that? I know I've heard that word somewhere---some time."

d.i.c.k was wondering how to make sure of Tag this time. If he shouted to his friends in camp Prescott felt positive that Tag would leap up, knock him down and glide away. Give him a start of a hundred yards in these forests, and Tag Mosher, otherwise young Page, was quite certain to distance and elude all pursuit.

CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION

As a last resort the high school boy decided to make one more effort to use persuasion.

"Tag" he urged, "be a real fellow. Show some grit, and purpose.

No matter what you've done, or what you haven't done, show that you've sand enough to get up and walk back into camp with me---to meet your father. Come, get up and come along, like a real fellow with real grit, won't you?"

"Get up?" echoed Tag bitterly. "If I could, do you suppose I'd be lying here talking to you now?"

"Are you hurt?" cried d.i.c.k.

"If I hadn't been, do you suppose I'd have stayed with you as long as I have?" mocked the other indignantly. "It all came of that money, too, and what you call 'conscience.' If I hadn't come back with the money I wouldn't have had that nasty tumble over the root, and my ankle would be as sound as ever."

"Do you mean that you can't walk?" d.i.c.k demanded.

"I can crawl, and that's all," Tag declared. "I was at the spring, getting a drink, when I heard you coming. Then I crawled back in here, but not fast enough to keep you from seeing something moving here. It was right over yonder that I fell and wrenched my ankle. I crawled over here so as to be near water until my foot got so that I could use it again."

"Hoo-hoo!" bellowed Prescott, through his hands. "Hoo-hoo the camp! Hoo-hoo!"

"That's right," jeered Tag. "Go in after the reward, when I can't help myself. Serves me right for taking money when I should have contented myself with my old game of stealing victuals only!"

"Hoo-hoo the camp!" repeated Prescott. "Hoo-hoo!"

"That you, d.i.c.k?" came in Darrin's voice.

"Yes; come here on the jump, Dave. And bring the others."

"Where?"

"At the spring."

"Say," remarked Tag shrewdly, "you oughtn't to call a whole crowd that way. There will be more to get a share in the reward, and you won't get as much for yourself."

"Oh, bother the reward!" spoke Prescott impatiently. "All I'm thinking of, Tag, is the bother you've given us, first and last."

"I suppose I always have been a trouble to folks," Tag a.s.sented glumly. "But I'll be game---now that I'm caught."

All the chums save Hazelton came on a run.

"Here's Tag, fellows," d.i.c.k hailed them. "He has hurt his ankle and I guess we'll have to carry him to camp."

"That'll be easy enough," declared broad shouldered Tom Reade.

"I believe I can pick, him up alone."

Tom tried. The feat would have been possible, but it would not make for the comfort of the injured boy.

"You and I will make a queen's chair," suggested d.i.c.k. Then Dave, Greg and Dan lifted Tag to the seat thus formed.

"You'll find me heavy before you get me far," Tag informed them.

"Pshaw!" retorted Tom.

Greg, running ahead, informed the others in camp who was coming.

The bearers were met by Mr. Page, Hibbert and Colquitt, running in the order named.

"Here's the boy you want, Mr. Page," called d.i.c.k Prescott. "But look out for his injured ankle, sir."

This last caution was necessary, for the older man, in his eagerness to embrace the lad whom he believed to be his son, almost crashed into him.

"So you're my son---my boy, Egbert!" cried the father.

"That's the fairy tale that has been shied at me a good many times lately," replied Tag gruffly.

Mr. Page fell back, in some astonishment, at this ungracious reception.

Then, understanding, and remembering Tag's unhappy past, he patted the boy's shoulder.

"That's all right---all right, Egbert," declared the father.

"Perhaps the news has come upon you too suddenly. But you and I will talk it over. It won't take us long to know each other, my boy."

As the party came into camp it was noted that Mrs. Bentley and the girls had withdrawn, returning, through delicacy, to their own camp. Hazelton, thus released from guard duty at the other camp, soon came running over.

But Dr. Bentley had slipped into the tent, quickly arranging one of the cots with the skill of the hospital worker.

"Bring the young man in here," called the physician, appearing in the doorway of the tent. "We'll soon find out how bad the injury is."