“If you scrutinized his face as closely as you say you did, Toby, perhaps you can tell me if he had a scar under his left eye, a sort of mark like a small crescent moon, and which like most scars turns furiously red when any excitement comes along?”

“Why, Jack, I clean forgot to mention that!” Toby instantly exclaimed. “He certainly did have just such a disfigurement, though I took it for a birth-mark and not a scar or healed wound. So then you’ve already got a good suspicion about his identity, have you? Well, this keeps on growing more and more interesting. Steve and myself will be glad when the time comes for you to open up and tell us the whole story.”

“You must hold your horses yet a while, fellows,” said Jack, gravely. “The lady made me 42 promise to keep the secret until I had gained the information that was so important, and then I could tell you everything. Toby, I want to congratulate you on playing your part well. That man had reason to suspect you might be up in the Pontico Hills for something a heap more important than just camping out. Perhaps he’s satisfied now you spoke the truth; and then again he may still suspect something wrong, and want to keep an eye on us; so we must never speak of these things except when our heads are close together. At all other times we’ve got to act just like care-free lads off on a camping trip would appear. There are other days to come, and bit by bit I reckon the thing will grow, until in the end I’ve found out all I want to know.”

“One thing sure, Jack,” ventured Steve, meditatively, “it’s no ordinary game this man with the black mustache and goatee is playing up here in these hills.”

“Well, I can stretch a point,” Jack told him, with a twinkle in his eye, “and agree with you there, Steve. It’s a big game, with a fortune at stake; and so you can both understand how desperate that man might become if he really began to believe that our being here threatened his castles in the air with a tumble. So be on your guard all the time, boys, and play your part. Suspense will make the wind-up all the more enjoyable; just as in baseball when the score is tied in the ninth and Steve here has swatted the ball for a 43 three-bagger, with two men on bases, the pent-up enthusiasm breaks loose in a regular hurricane of shouts and cheers, and we’re all feeling as happy as clams at high tide. Now, let’s get busy on these fish, and have a regular fry for dinner tonight!”


44CHAPTER VI
SIGNS OF MORE TROUBLE

They had a most bountiful spread that evening. Steve and Toby insisted on taking charge, and getting up the meal. Besides the fish, which by the way were most delightfully browned in the pan, and proved a great hit with the three boys, there was boiled rice, baked potatoes, warmed-up corned beef (from the tin), and finally as dessert sliced peaches, the California variety; besides the customary coffee, without which a meal in camp would seem decidedly poor.

All of them fairly “stuffed” after the manner of vigorous boys with not a care in the wide world, and plenty more food where that came from. After supper was over they had to lie around and take things easy for a while, inventing all manner of excuses for so doing, when in reality not one of them felt capable of moving.

“I must say the bass up the river seem to taste a whole lot better than down our way,” remarked Toby, reflectively. “Sometimes when I’ve fetched a string home with me, and the cook prepared them for the table they had what seemed like a muddy flavor. It may have been because the river ran high just then, and this affected the fish more or less.”