“That’s so, but there’s only one marked as he is marked.”
“Marked—how do you mean?” questioned Pep, tremendously worked up now.
“On his right forefoot,” explained Vic. “Bolivar is branded there, plain as day. It’s what they call a monogram. This one is ‘G. B.,’ the initials of my uncle’s name. Bill told me about it—Bill Purvis, you know?”
“Yes,” nodded Pep assentingly.
“That’s the clew we gave the people down at Wardham who went hunting for the camels when they were stolen. It’s in the picture, too—that mark.”
“What picture?” demanded Randy.
“Oh, didn’t I ever show it to you—the one Bill gave me? Here, get nearer to the electric light—see?” and Vic drew from his pocket a fair sized card photograph.
At this both Pep and Randy gazed closely. Sure enough, as Vic had told, on the right forefoot of the leading animal pictured the mark Vic had described was clearly to be seen.
“I didn’t notice that mark on the camel in the film,” said Pep, “but of course I wasn’t looking for it. There’s something to this, Vic, sure.”
Pep was always ready to jump at a speedy conclusion, especially if something new and exciting was involved in the subject in hand. He pushed his cap back in his impulsive way, as if here was a new mystery to solve.