We don't hear much news."
"What news do you want?" asked a familiar voice behind him.
Soft-footed Deputy Simmons stalked into the circle.
"We were just wondering, Mr. Simmons," spoke Prescott, rising,
"if Mr. Leigh is dead yet?"
"Not yet," replied the peace officer, "but the doctors say that
he is likely to die any day now."
"Then will Tag be charged with manslaughter---or murder?"
"He may be charged with murder, if we can catch him," replied
the deputy.
"If you can ca-----Why, what's up?" asked Dick eagerly.
"Tag broke out of jail last night," replied the officer.
"He's---at large?"
"That's what he is," nodded Simmons. "Tag was looked upon as
a kid, and wasn't watched as carefully as he should have been.
So he got out. Not only that, but he visited the warden's office,
late at night. So, when he left, he took with him a sawed-off
shotgun---one of the wickedest weapons ever invented---and a revolver
and plenty of ammunition. That's what I'm doing in the woods
now. I came to see if you had seen Tag to-day, but your asking
for news of him shows me that you haven't."
"Is Mr. Valden with you?" asked Dick.
"Yes; he's over at the road, in the car. He wouldn't come to
camp. I guess the truth is"---Simmons' eyes twinkled---that Valden
is ashamed to see you after the rebuke you gave him the other
night, Prescott.
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