"
"If this young man is, indeed, my son," murmured Mr. Page, his
eyes glistening, "how fortunate that I am about to come up with
him! He will have no need to steal hereafter. He shall have
comfort, protection, proper training at last! But where is he?
Why are you keeping me from him? How long since you have seen
him?"
"Only a few minutes ago," Dick answered. "He had just robbed
our food supply. We pursued him, but lost him in the woods."
"Then these woods must be scoured until the boy is found!" cried
Mr. Page. "Colquitt, this is a task for you. Employ as many
more of your force of detectives as you may need, but you must
find the boy without an hour's delay."
"I must tell you something else, sir," Dick went on in a distressed
tone. "Even for my own peace of mind I must have it over with
as early as possible. Mr. Page, the boy is now roaming the woods
armed with a shotgun and a revolver. He is a fugitive from justice."
"What is that you say?" cried Mr. Page, his face growing haggard
and ghastly. "My boy----my son---a fugitive from justice!"
"He may not be your son, sir," broke in Tom Colquitt.
Then the whole story came out. With it Dick described the birthmarks
he had seen on Tag when the latter was at the swimming pool.
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