"I'm not likely to, mister. Come and sit down beside my blaze. Glad you dropped in on me. Must have known I wanted a little help just about now."
Chief Hogg walked straight up to the tramp and looked in his face. He even put out his hand and felt of the straggly beard as if desirous of making sure that it was genuine, and not assumed.
"'Taint him, Whalen! That imp Lef Seller done us up when he sent us on this fools' errand," he remarked, vigorously, turning to one of his companions.
"But we want to make sure. They say that Bill Brockholt's a crafty cove, all right," declared one of the minions of the law, suspiciously.
"Well, say, he's only been out of the stone jug a couple of days, and this critter's got a beard that's been growing some months. No, 'taint the Bill we want," and the stout chief shook his head in disgust as he contemplated the two mile return trip.
"But we might as well grab this feller on some charge, after all our trouble. Just think up something or other, Chief. Never like to come in empty-handed, after startin' out for game," persisted the other officer, stepping around so as to cut off any possible flight, should the tramp dream of attempting it.
Frank nudged his chum.
"Come on; now's the time to say a good word for Bill," he remarked.
Upon which the two boys showed themselves.
"Hello! Chief!" cried Frank, cheerily, as he skated ashore, and advanced near the campfire of the tramp.