"It is too late; I am too well known. Yet who knows?" he said after a pause. At nine o'clock Juba entered the room. "Has John returned?" asked the outlaw. "No, massa." A shade of anxiety overspread the outlaw's face. "He should have been here before this," he said. Then looking at Ernest he said: "I am going out a while. Lie down on the bed with Frank and if he wakes up undress him." "Yes, sir." An hour later Frank and Ernest were sleeping peacefully side by side. When Ernest awoke the next morning Frank was still asleep on the bed beside him. In the large room adjoining, James Fox lay on the lounge. He had given up his bed to Ernest. He had not himself undressed, but had thrown himself on the couch in his ordinary clothes. Breakfast was ready by the time they were, and the three sat down together. "Where is Uncle John, papa?" asked Frank. "He has not returned, Frank," said James Fox, soberly. "What made him stay away all night?" "Probably it was business," answered the outlaw, but Ernest noticed that he looked disturbed. In truth he had been out till two o'clock seeking for his brother, who he feared had got into trouble. We know that he was in the prison at Crampton, whither he had been conveyed by Luke Robbins and Ezekiel Mason. Of course it was in the mind of James Fox that his brother might have been arrested, since this was a risk which he daily incurred. Just as breakfast was over there was a new arrival. It was a tall, stalwart fellow whom James Fox addressed as Hugh. "Do you bring any news, Hugh?" asked the outlaw eagerly. "Yes," answered Hugh Humphries. "Is it about John?" Hugh glanced significantly at the two boys. Ernest he saw for the first time. James Fox understood and followed Hugh out of the room. "Well," he said inquiringly when they were out of hearing. "Mr. John is in trouble," answered Hugh briefly. "Go on," said James Fox. "Do you know where he is?" "In Crampton jail." "Go on. Give me the particulars." "He was carried there by two persons." "Who were they?" "One I think was a farmer who lives in Claremont. The other seemed to be a Quaker." "I don't remember any Quaker in this neighborhood. He must be a stranger hereabouts." "I think I have seen him before." "Where?" "At the Emmonsville bank. I was passing there one day in disguise and, chancing to look in, I saw this man sitting on a bench near the paying teller's desk." "Ah!" said James Fox, thoughtfully. "He may be a detective." "That is what I thought." "That is bad news, but the jail at Crampton is not very strong. I have been confined there myself and made my escape. However, John will need assistance from the outside." "I see you have a new boy," said Hugh curiously. "When did you pick him up?" "Yesterday, a few miles from here. He is a bank messenger." "From what bank?" "The Emmonsville bank." "Then he may know something of this Quaker detective?" "Well suggested. I will question him." CHAPTER XVIII FOX'S BAND