Part 19

Burton reassured the boy with a smile and a nod, and then as he neared Jeb he asked him if a young man had been at his place that morning asking for food.

“Sure,” replied Jeb; “but he didn't 'mount to nothin'. One o' these here summer camper pests. He paid fer all he got. Had a roll o' bills 's big as ye fist. Little feller he were, not much older 'n' Willie.”

“Did you know that he told your son that he was The Oskaloosa Kid and that he had robbed a house and killed a man last night?”

“Huh?” exclaimed Jeb. Then he turned and cast one awful look at Willie--a look large with menace.

“Honest, Paw,” pleaded the boy. “I was a-scairt to tell you, 'cause he said he'd kill me ef I told.”

Jeb scratched his head. “Yew know what you'll get ef you're lyin' to me,” he threatened.

“I believe he's telling the truth,” said detective Burton. “Where is the man now?” he asked Willie.

“Down to the Squibbs' place,” and Willie jerked a dirty thumb toward the east.

“Not now,” said Burton; “we just came from there; but there has been someone there this morning, for there is still a fire in the kitchen range. Does anyone live there?”

“I should say not,” said Willie emphatically; “the place is haunted.”

“Thet's right,” interjected Jeb. “Thet's what they do say, an' this here Oskaloosie Kid said they heered things las' night an' seed a dead man on the floor, didn't he M'randy?” M'randy nodded her head.

“But I don't take no stock in what Willie's ben tellin' ye,” she continued, “'n' ef his paw don't lick him I will. I told him tell I'm good an' tired o' talkin' thet one liar 'round a place wuz all I could stand,” and she cast a meaning glance at her husband.

“Honest, Maw, I ain't a-lyin',” insisted Willie. “Wot do you suppose he give me this fer, if it wasn't to keep me from talkin',” and the boy drew a crumpled one dollar bill from his pocket. It was worth the dollar to escape a thrashing.

“He give you thet?” asked his mother. Willie nodded assent.

“'N' thet ain't all he had neither,” he said. “Beside all them bills he showed me a whole pocket full o' jewlry, 'n' he had a string o' things thet I don't know jest what you call 'em; but they looked like they was made outen the inside o' clam shells only they was all round like marbles.”

Detective Burton raised his eyebrows. “Miss Prim's pearl necklace,” he commented to the man at his side. The other nodded. “Don't punish your son, Mrs. Case,” he said to the woman. “I believe he has discovered a great deal that will help us in locating the man we want. Of course I am interested principally in finding Miss Prim--her father has engaged me for that purpose; but I think the arrest of the perpetrators of any of last night's crimes will put us well along on the trail of the missing young lady, as it is almost a foregone conclusion that there is a connection between her disappearance and some of the occurrences which have so excited Oakdale. I do not mean that she was a party to any criminal act; but it is more than possible that she was abducted by the same men who later committed the other crimes.”

The Cases hung open-mouthed upon his words, while his companions wondered at the loquaciousness of this ordinarily close-mouthed man, who, as a matter of fact, was but attempting to win the confidence of the boy on the chance that even now he had not told all that he knew; but Willie had told all.

Finding, after a few minutes further conversation, that he could glean no additional information the detective returned to his car and drove west toward Millsville on the assumption that the fugitives would seek escape by the railway running through that village. Only thus could he account for their turning off the main pike. The latter was now well guarded all the way to Payson; while the Millsville road was still open.

No sooner had he departed than Willie Case disappeared, nor did he answer at noon to the repeated ringing of the big, farm dinner bell.

Half way between the Case farm and Millsville detective Burton saw, far ahead along the road, two figures scale a fence and disappear behind the fringing blackberry bushes which grew in tangled profusion on either side. When they came abreast of the spot he ordered the driver to stop; but though he scanned the open field carefully he saw no sign of living thing.

“There are two men hiding behind those bushes,” he said to his companions in a low whisper. “One of you walk ahead about fifty yards and the other go back the same distance and then climb the fence. When I see you getting over I'll climb it here. They can't get away from us.” To the driver he said: “You have a gun. If they make a break go after 'em. You can shoot if they don't stop when you tell 'em to.”

The two men walked in opposite directions along the road, and when Burton saw them turn in and start to climb the fence he vaulted over the panel directly opposite the car. He had scarcely alighted upon the other side when his eyes fell upon the disreputable figures of two tramps stretched out upon their backs and snoring audibly. Burton grinned.

“You two sure can go to sleep in a hurry,” he said. One of the men opened his eyes and sat up. When he saw who it was that stood over him he grinned sheepishly.

“Can't a guy lie down fer a minute in de bushes widout bein' pinched?” he asked. The other man now sat up and viewed the newcomer, while from either side Burton's companions closed in on the three.

“Wot's de noise?” inquired the second tramp, looking from one to another of the intruders. “We ain't done nothin'.”

“Of course not, Charlie,” Burton assured him gaily. “Who would ever suspect that you or The General would do anything; but somebody did something in Oakdale last night and I want to take you back there and have a nice, long talk with you. Put your hands up!”

“We--.”

“Put 'em up!” snapped Burton, and when the four grimy fists had been elevated he signalled to his companions to search the two men.