“I guess you’re right,” admitted Roy regretfully. “I’m sorry about this business—mighty sorry.”
“I, too, am sorry for Sage,” nodded Piper; “but in matters like this, where justice and the rights of peaceable citizens are involved, sentiment must be put aside.”
“Fred’s a good fellow,” muttered Hooker. “We’ve been pretty chummy.”
“Of course he’s a good fellow; nobody disputes that.”
“But to think he has such a brother!”
“That’s his misfortune, not his fault.”
“And he’s trying to help the fellow escape.”
“You’d do the same under similar circumstances, so don’t condemn him. But while we’re gabbing here the fugitive is getting farther away. Of course, if he’s badly hurt, as it seems he must be, he can’t cover ground as fast as he otherwise might.”
“We can’t find him in these woods; we might as well give up that idea.”
“And give up all hope of copping the reward!” exclaimed Sleuth. “Not I. The slope of Turkey Hill isn’t far away, and from it we can get a good view of the swamp and the woods. Perhaps we’ll see something of the fellow by climbing up there. Anyhow, it won’t take us far out of our course, if we’re going to make for that old camp in the swamp, in which I fancy our man, at Fred’s suggestion, may try to hide. Don’t quit. Come on.”