“There, boys, he wants us to come over!” exclaimed Davy, exultantly; “I thought it’d strike us pretty quick; Thad isn’t the kind to forget his mates. And we’ll soon be put wise to the facts.”
They hurried to join the other three, who still stood at the same place, ever and anon looking seriously down at the ground, as though hardly able to believe the evidence of their eyes.
When Step Hen came running with the other four tagging at his heels, Thad held up his hand.
“Hold on right there, boys!” he remarked; “we don’t want you to cut in and rub it all away before you’ve had a chance to look for yourselves.”
Of course this caused them to turn their attention to the ground, and it was easy to see that the crawling thief had here risen to his full height, though possibly bending over more or less as he continued his retreat.
“Then it was a man, after all!” was what Bumpus said; and there was a positive air of relief about his voice, as though he had taken Step Hen’s hint seriously, and even fancied a terrible wild beast might be hovering near them.
“Yes, but look closer, and see if you can recognize anything familiar about the marks?” advised Thad.
Accordingly, all of them leaned over and looked.
It was Step Hen who gave the first startled cry.
“Oh! Thad, what does this mean?” he burst out with; “it’s the same broken shoe, bound together with an old rag, that we saw when we looked for the marks of Wandering George, in the mud of the road; but how in the wide world could he get over here?”