Prescott swallowed hard, twice, and did some rapid thinking, ere he went on, with all faces turned toward him:
"Mr. Page, if this boy turns out to be your son——-"
"Describe him to me—-minutely!" ordered the father.
Dick fell into a personal description of Tag Mosher. Others, as they now watched Mr. Page closely, felt that Tag must be his son. The description, as to complexion, features, hair and eyes, all tallied closely with Mr. Page's own appearance.
"Now, don't keep me in suspense any longer," begged Mr. Page.
"Take me to him, that I may help decide for myself."
"If he is your son, sir," Dick went on solemnly, and hating his task, "I am much afraid that you are going to be disappointed in him. The boy is known as Tag Mosher. He believes a dissolute, drunken, thieving fellow named Bill Mosher, who is now in jail, to be his father. Tag is himself a wild young savage of the forest, and maintains himself by st—-poaching."
"If this young man is, indeed, my son," murmured Mr. Page, his eyes glistening, "how fortunate that I am about to come up with him! He will have no need to steal hereafter. He shall have comfort, protection, proper training at last! But where is he? Why are you keeping me from him? How long since you have seen him?"
"Only a few minutes ago," Dick answered. "He had just robbed our food supply. We pursued him, but lost him in the woods."
"Then these woods must be scoured until the boy is found!" cried Mr. Page. "Colquitt, this is a task for you. Employ as many more of your force of detectives as you may need, but you must find the boy without an hour's delay."
"I must tell you something else, sir," Dick went on in a distressed tone. "Even for my own peace of mind I must have it over with as early as possible. Mr. Page, the boy is now roaming the woods armed with a shotgun and a revolver. He is a fugitive from justice."