"He denied any knowledge of the monument business, I've heard," replied Harper.
Bert chuckled.
"That sounds like old Prescott," laughed Bert. "And I'll bet he managed it without telling any lies. I know Prescott of old. Our family once lived in the same town with him, you know. Prescott was one of the biggest jokers in our High School. And he never got caught in those days. Prescott was always the artful dodger."
"What do you mean by that!" asked Harper. "You don't mean that
Prescott is untruthful."
"Oh, no, not at all," laughed Bert. "But, if I could put him on the rack, and get the whole thing, unreservedly, out of Richard Prescott, I'd be willing to bet, in advance, that he knows just who set off the cannon crackers last night."
Dodge was careful not to speak so that he could be overheard by Prescott or Furlong, yet he was certain that, on the still morning air around the guard tent, his voice was carrying sufficiently to penetrate to the other side of the khaki walls of the O.C.'s tent.
"Prescott is the clever one, and the loyal one to all but tacs.," laughed Bert to Harper, as he strolled away. Dodge hoped that the O.C. was in his tent.
It is true—-Captain Bates was there. Having drawn the flap, and being in the act of enjoying his morning newspaper, the O.C. heard.
"Hang it, I felt last night that, while answering me truthfully,
Mr. Prescott was proving the possession of sufficient cleverness
to keep me off the monument trail, just as he foiled my catching
Mr. Holmes," mused the O.C. "And I said as much last night to
Colonel Strong."
At that moment the flap of the tent was lifted and the K.C. returned the salute of his subordinate, who had promptly leaped to his feet.