"Dat de place, Link. But you not say anyt'ing 'bout him some more," said Ducrot, with a warning shake of his finger.
The talk went on for half an hour, and Dale and Owen learned that the unscrupulous pair had sent the caretaker of the lodge a decoy letter summoning him to Milo, on supposed business for his employer. They had packed up many articles of value in the lodge, and intended to take them away by wagon to the river at daybreak the next day. The stolen goods were afterwards to be placed on a boat, but where they were to be taken after that was not mentioned.
"I guess we have heard enough," whispered Owen to his chum. "Come," and he led the way from the lodge to where the horses had been left.
"What do you think is best to do?" demanded Dale. "Of course we are not going to let those fellows run off with the stuff."
"To be sure not," answered Owen. "To my mind it will be best to catch them red-handed at the work. Then there will be no trouble in convicting them."
"Do you mean we had best go back and let Mr. Paxton know what is up?"
"Yes, either him or the sheriff of the county."
"Did you hear them talk about John Larson's horse?"
"Yes, Dale. Ducrot took the horse beyond a doubt, and he was sold somewhere around Sandybay."
It was decided that they get back to camp with all speed. They left the vicinity of the summer-house by a back path, keeping well out of sight of the lodge. As soon as they felt free to do so, they set off at a gallop, and reached the camp long before sundown.