He is nearly broken down from
the many anxieties of trying to find you. He spent last night
at our camp. This morning he and friends of his started off to
find you. Tag, come back here, and I'll take you into camp."
"No, thank you!" leered the larger boy. "I've been taken into
camp before, and you're the lad that turned the trick. You turned
me over to Valden and Simmons, and they turned me over to the
warden at the jail. I'm not going back to that jail---_alive_!"
"You foolish fellow! Can't you understand?" bellowed Dick, following
Tag as he once more turned away. "I'm telling you the truth,
and your father is only too anxious to employ all his wealth in
protecting whatever rights you may have. Bill Mosher was seen
at the jail yesterday, and he admitted that you were not his son,
but that he found you as a baby at a railroad wreck! Tag, use
your brains, for once, and come back to camp to meet your father!"
"Good-bye!" laughed the larger boy derisively, increasing his
fast walk to a run.
Desperately, Dick Prescott followed. As Tag sprinted, so did
the high school boy.
Looking back, young Mosher tripped over a root, and fell heavily.
The revolver flew from his hand landing several feet away.
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