The stranger stood for a moment looking about him suspiciously. He was a very ragged and dirty tramp, with a straggling red beard and a great, bulgy sack on his shoulders. Presently, as if to make sure of his whereabouts, he began to plod along the road.
Danny was after him like a flash, his rubber shoes making no noise on the road. It was real “stalking” this time! Scanning every detail of the man’s appearance, Danny could find nothing to show that he was not a genuine tramp. But that which caught his eye was the sack. It was bulgy and ragged. Out of a hole hung a rabbit skin. But there was evidently something large and square in the sack as well. It looked as if it might be a box. And from inside this seemed to come a scraping, scuffling noise, as if it contained something alive.
At this moment the tramp turned suddenly around and saw him.
Danny was a boy who always had all his wits about him. He was a London boy, remember! He realised at once that he must put the man off his guard and not let him think that he had followed him out of suspicion.
“Please, mister,” he said, “could you tell me the time?”
The man was staring angrily at him out of a pair of little, pale blue eyes. He had evidently been startled at finding a Wolf Cub at his heels when he had thought himself quite alone! The innocent question must have reassured him, for he looked very much relieved.
“It’s three o’clock,” he said gruffly.
Danny was looking him over eagerly. What could he say next, so as not to have to go away? Surely this strange man who crept out from among baskets in a cart, carried something alive in a bag full of rabbit skins, and knew the exact time without a watch, must be a “suspicious character!”
“I say, mister,” he continued, skipping along innocently by the man, “are you collecting rabbit skins and bottles?”
“Yes.”