"Gee! I'll be on the watch," promised Dick, his eyes shining at the prospect of so much money.
"Come on," suggested Jack to his chum, after the small chap had departed. "Let's go down by the white bridge and make some inquiries of people living in that vicinity. They may have seen a stranger hanging around, and, perhaps we can get on his trail that way."
"All right," agreed Mark, and they walked on together.
They had gone quite a distance away from the bridge, and had made several inquiries, but had met with no success, and they were about to give up and go back home.
"I know one person we haven't inquired of yet," said Mark, as they tramped along.
"Who's that?"
"Old Bascomb, who lives alone in a shack on the edge of the creek. You know the old codger who traps muskrats."
"Oh, sure; but I don't believe he'd know anything. If he did, he's so cranky he wouldn't tell you."
"Maybe he would, if we gave him a little money for some smoking tobacco. It's worth trying, anyhow. Bascomb goes around a great deal, and he may have met a strange man in his travels."
"Well, go ahead; we'll ask him."