"And then you hunted for the cigarette he had thrown away, I suppose?" ventured Thad.
"Oh! I'd noted the exact spot where he was at the time, and also on which side of the road he'd tossed the stub; so I didn't have much trouble about picking it up; after which I continued on my way. Hugh, here it is."
"With that Owen took something from his pocket, carefully wrapped in the folds of his handkerchief. It turned out to be a half-smoked cigarette. Hugh fastened his eyes instantly on some small printing in blue ink, giving the name of the manufacturers down in Virginia.
"It's the same make as those found under the Disney barn-floor," he said impressively; "and that alone would be proof that Tip has a cache somewhere back along the road to the mill-pond, perhaps in a hollow tree in the woods. A clever police officer could easily find it by following back Tip's trail, and learning just where he came out of the woods. I myself happen to know his left shoe has a triangular patch across the toe,—that would serve to identify the tracks anywhere."
"Listen to that, will you, Owen?" gasped the wondering Thad. "If my chum here doesn't take up the line of an investigator of crime for a livelihood believe me there'll be a great loss to the world. I wonder now, Hugh, if you've got tabs on all the fellows, so that you could tell who made any footprint in the mud?"
Hugh only laughed as he went on to say:
"It was just a mere accident that I knew that about Tip's mended sole, and it might never happen again. But when Owen here told us about a hidden cache I only gave you my opinion as to what would be the easiest way to discover its location. But what will you do about it, Owen,—let the Chief know of your discovery, or keep mum?"
"Why, I look at it this way," said the other, with a line of perplexity marked upon his usually smooth forehead; "if it was only a suspicion I might keep quiet, not wanting to injure Tip, though I've got little cause to love the brute. But since I actually know something that would prove a valuable clue to the officers, I'm afraid it would be what I've heard a lawyer call 'compounding a felony' if I refused to inform on Tip. How about that, Hugh? I want to do the right thing, even if I hate to be an informer."
"It's up to you, Owen, and your duty is plain enough," said Hugh.
"Then I ought to see the Chief, you mean?" asked the other.