CHAPTER XI
STILL A MYSTERY
"Oh! I see!" exclaimed Frank. "You naturally think that the tramp in that shack on Rattail Island is this man the police are looking for?"
"Same fellow, sure," grunted the disgusted Lanky. "And to think I've been and made myself believe I must have known him some time. Shucks! I'm just too mad to see straight, that's what."
"Hold on," remarked Frank, quietly, "let's see if we've got this straight. Somehow or other it doesn't just strike me that that chap had the look of a real bad man. He was a tramp, and looked shiftless, as all hoboes do; but I wouldn't be in too big a hurry to believe the worst about Bill."
"Why, whatever can you mean? Teaching a budding lawyer how to look before he leaps! Say, do you still believe Bill may be all right?" and Lanky jumped from his chair to seize hold of Frank's arm.
"I don't know about that, but let's investigate a little, and see how he compares in looks. Of course you asked about that?" went on Frank.
"Of course I didn't now, smarty," came the reply, while Lanky looked chagrined. "And there it was on the wall too, right under the reward offered for recapturing this Bill Brockholt, who, it seems, is a dangerous piece of baggage. It was silly of me not to wait and read up, but I was so dead sure, and afraid Chief Hogg might ask me questions that I didn't want to answer, I just cut, and ran all the way here."
"Then you really don't know?" continued Frank.
"Say, suppose you call him up on the 'phone and make a few inquiries. The chief thinks a lot of you, Frank, and will tell you anything you want. You can say I am here and brought the news, and you'd like to hear what this chap looks like, so that if you run across him you can let the chief know. Eh, how's that?"