"Perhaps he may have seen Jerry. Shall we ask him?" demanded Will.
"If we keep on straight we're going to meet him, and, of course, we'll ask. I only hope he has, though I doubt it. Do either of you know him?"
Frank asked this because he was comparatively a newcomer in Centerville, while the other boys had been raised there.
"Seems to me I've seen him before," exclaimed Bluff. "Why, yes, it's Mr. Smithson. He lives in Centerville—that is, his family does, because he isn't home much. You see he's one of the wardens over at the State insane asylum at Merrick."
"What?" cried Frank, startled; "then perhaps he may not be hunting wild animals after all. Suppose one of the mad inmates of that institution escaped, and is up here roaming through the woods?"
"Jewhittaker!" exclaimed Will, turning a trifle pale, and hugging his camera closer to his breast, as though his first fear concerned its safety.
"If that's so, I hope Jerry didn't run across him, that's all," remarked Bluff.
"Come on, hurry. You've given me a little shock now, and we must learn the truth immediately. Call out to him, Bluff—there, he sees us, and is coming this way."
As Frank said, the keeper was hurrying toward them now, an anxious look on his face. He nodded to Bluff as he came up.
"Camping up here, are you, boys? That's fine. Used to like to do it myself when I was younger. Say, you didn't happen to see anything of a wild-looking chap anywhere around, did you?" he asked, glancing at each in turn.