"I think I know what you were going to say," went on our hero, and he tried to speak calmly although his heart gave a sudden jump. "You were going to say that Ward Porton looked like my Uncle Dunston and like me."
"Well, if you must know it, Dave, that is what did come into my mind. I don't think he resembles you quite as much as he resembles your uncle, to be really honest."
"Oh, say, Roger, drop that!" interposed Phil, hastily. "I think Dave looks a good deal more like his uncle than Porton looks like Mr. Porter."
"It's a queer mystery, that's certain," returned Dave, slowly. "I don't like it, I must say," and his face showed more concern than it had for a long while.
"Don't you take this too seriously, Dave!" cried Roger. "I believe at the most it's only some game gotten up by Link Merwell. Now that we have him a prisoner and can send him to jail for that robbery, more than likely you won't hear anything further about it."
"I sincerely hope you speak the truth," was our hero's sober reply.
After a plain but substantial meal, Link Merwell was taken to the woodshed and told he would have to remain there until morning. Then the boys cast lots to find out who should go on guard first.
"I'm number one," announced Phil, after drawing one of a number of slips of paper placed in a cap.
"And I follow you," announced Luke.
"I'm guard number three," came from Ben, and the other boys announced what slips they had drawn.