“Think they’ll soon be on the move?” asked Professor Skeel. “If they don’t take the trail, all our work will be wasted.”
“Well, we’ve got to take some chances,” growled Murker. “If this dodge doesn’t fool ’em, I’ll have to try another. But I think it will. Once we get ’em confused, and off the road, we can separate ’em by some means or other, and deal with Fairfield alone. You leave it to me.”
“Very well,” assented Professor Skeel.
A little farther walk through the woods brought the three conspirators to a cross-road. It was not much traveled in Winter, but in Summer formed a popular highway. The main road led back to the village, where the boys had left the railroad train, and the cross highway connected two towns—Ramsen and Fayetville.
Reaching this signboard, Murker looked around to make sure he was unobserved. Then, with a few blows from a hammer, he knocked off the two signboards. These he reversed, so that the one marked “Seven miles to Ramsen” pointed in just the opposite direction—to Fayetville. The other board he also reversed.
“But it’s the Ramsen one they’ll look at if they come to Camp No. 3,” said Murker, “and they’re almost sure to come. Then we’ll have Fairfield where we want him!”
[CHAPTER XIV]
THE BEAR’S TRAIL
Bert Wilson was carefully examining his camera, sitting at a table in the cozy quarters of Cabin No. 2, where he and his chums had gathered after the day’s hunt. When he had adjusted the shutter, which had stuck several times of late, thereby spoiling some fine pictures, Bert took up his gun, and began taking that apart to clean it.