“It’s strange,” declared the sheriff. “Proctor said he saw him around here yesterday afternoon. Proctor was coming over from Turner’s about the middle of the afternoon, and, as he was running past this point, he said he saw Tweed come out of the woods. When Tweed saw Proctor’s boat, he turned round and made into the bushes in a hurry. That looks as if he had some sort of hiding place round here.” “With the exception of Hans, we were all over to Camp Benson yesterday afternoon. Hans was here alone. Did you see anybody prowling around here yesterday, Hans?” “Shimminy Gristmas!” gurgled Hans, turning pale. “You pet I didn’d seen nopodys! Uf I knew nopodys vos browling around here, I vould been so scat dot you vould had heart vailure! Und id vos a roppers? Py Chorch! you don’d got me to stayed here some more all alone myseluf by!” The Dutch lad’s fear and excitement was genuine, and it impressed the men more than anything Merriwell had said. “Well,” observed the sheriff, “if you know nothing about him, you will not be able to help us in any way. We thought it possible he had managed to get you to take him in with you some way, even if he was not one of your party originally. Keep your eyes open for him. There is a reward of five hundred dollars offered for his capture already. If you could help us nab him, it would be worth your while. That’s all. Sorry to have disturbed you. Must be going. Good-morning.” Then he turned and, followed by the deputy, left the cottage. Merriwell was interested now, and he followed the officers out, asking them several questions about Joe Tweed, the robber. He learned that Tweed had been hanging around Newport for some time, but had not been seen there for several days. He had made many acquaintances in the village at the foot of the lake, and had found out all about Peter Small, the miser. It was thought in Newport that Tweed had been assisted by some person who lived in that vicinity, for the manner in which he had entered Small’s house and found the old man’s hidden hoard of money, after half killing the miser, showed he was well informed. Frank, Bart and Jack accompanied the officers down to the shore, where a small sailboat lay. With the boat they had run over from Turner’s, and they said they were going on to Proctor’s, the wind being favorable. The boys saw them depart, and then returned to the cottage, discussing the events of the morning. They found Hans savagely at work cleaning the guns. He was sweating and hurrying as if his life depended on what he was doing. Browning was snoring on the bed. “Here, here, what are you doing?” asked Frank. “Gitting retty to met dot roppers!” shouted the Dutch lad, fiercely ramming a swab stick down the barrel of a gun. “You shust let dot roppers come fooling arount here some more und seen how kvick he vill shoot me. Oh, I peen goin’ to gatch heem und got der fife hundret tollars!” ------------------------------------------------------------------------