There could be no doubt that the high school boy meant just what he said. Tag, who was not accustomed to wasting time in crises, turned angrily on his heel.
"Hold on there a moment," called Dick. The other boy baited, turning about. "Do you remember what I told you the other day?" demanded Prescott.
"You've told me a lot of things I never took from any other kid," growled Tag.
"Do you remember what I told you about your father, his love for you, and his desire to meet and claim you?"
"Old Bill Mosher's love?" laughed Tag harshly. "I'd stay and laugh a while at that, but I've other business for to-day."
"No; your real father, Mr. Page!" Dick cried after him, as Tag started away. "Bill Mosher found you in a railroad wreck. Your real father is a man of wealth. He is nearly broken down from the many anxieties of trying to find you. He spent last night at our camp. This morning he and friends of his started off to find you. Tag, come back here, and I'll take you into camp."
"No, thank you!" leered the larger boy. "I've been taken into camp before, and you're the lad that turned the trick. You turned me over to Valden and Simmons, and they turned me over to the warden at the jail. I'm not going back to that jail—-alive!"
"You foolish fellow! Can't you understand?" bellowed Dick, following Tag as he once more turned away. "I'm telling you the truth, and your father is only too anxious to employ all his wealth in protecting whatever rights you may have. Bill Mosher was seen at the jail yesterday, and he admitted that you were not his son, but that he found you as a baby at a railroad wreck! Tag, use your brains, for once, and come back to camp to meet your father!"
"Good-bye!" laughed the larger boy derisively, increasing his fast walk to a run.
Desperately, Dick Prescott followed. As Tag sprinted, so did the high school boy.