“Don’t—er—take us off the road,” panted the deputy sheriff. “This walk—er—is bad enough as it is,” and he gave a deep sigh. Walking had never been his strong point.
At last they came in sight of the hollow and Andy pointed out the rude shelter and the remains of a campfire. Not a soul was to be seen.
“Perhaps they have deserted the spot,” said Jack. “If they have it’s too bad.”
“Ha! don’t tell me you have brought me here on a fool’s errand!” puffed the deputy sheriff.
“If you are fooled, Mr. Nugg, so are we,” answered Rossmore Ford.
“I think I see somebody sleeping under that shelter,” said the butcher. “Yes, I do! It’s a man—and a tramp, by the looks of his ragged clothing!”
“Then some of them must be on hand,” answered Pepper.
“I hope the man I am after is there,” put in Andy. He was thinking more of the things he had lost than of capturing the rascals on account of the chickens that had been stolen.
“Hadn’t we better surround the place?” suggested Jack, with true military instinct.
“Just—er—what I was going to suggest,” said Mr. Nugg, quickly. “But don’t do any shooting unless I give the command,” he continued warningly.