"Old Bascomb, who lives alone in a shack on the edge of the creek. You know the old codger who traps muskrats." "Oh, sure; but I don't believe he'd know anything. If he did, he's so cranky he wouldn't tell you." "Maybe he would, if we gave him a little money for some smoking tobacco. It's worth trying, anyhow. Bascomb goes around a great deal, and he may have met a strange man in his travels." "Well, go ahead; we'll ask him." The muskrat trapper did not prove to be in a very pleasant frame of mind, but, after Mark had given him a quarter, Bascomb consented to answer a few questions. The boys told him about looking for a strange man, describing him as best they could, though they did not tell why they wanted to find him. "Wa'al, now, I shouldn't be surprised but what I know the very fellow you want," said the trapper. "I met him a couple of days back, an' I think he's still hanging around. Fust I thought he was after some of my traps, but when I found he wa'ant, I didn't pay no more attention to him. He looked jest like you say." "Where was he?" asked Jack eagerly. "Walkin' along the creek, sort of absent-minded like." "You don't know where he lives, or whether he is staying in this vicinity, do you?" inquired Mark. "Ya'as, I think I do," replied the trapper. "Where?" cried Jack eagerly. "Wa'al, you know the old Preakness homestead, down by the bend of the creek, about four mile below here?" "Sure we know it," answered Mark. "We used to go in swimming not far from there." "Wa'al, the old house has been deserted now for quite a spell," went on the trapper, "and there ain't nobody lived in it but tramps. But the other night, when I was comin' past, with a lot of rats I'd jest taken out of my traps, I see a light in the old house. Thinks I, to myself, that there's more tramps snoozin' in there, and I didn't reckon it was none of my business, so I kept on. But jest as I was walking past the main gate, some one come out of the house and hurried away. I had a good look at him, an'----" "Who was it?" asked Mark impatiently, for the old trapper was a slow talker. "It was the same man you're lookin' for," declared Bascomb. "I'm sure of it, an' he's hangin' out in the old Preakness house. If you want t' see him, why don't you go there?" "We will!" cried Jack. "Come on, Mark. I think we're on the trail at last." CHAPTER VII MARK IS CAPTURED Eagerly the boys hurried forward, intent on making the best time possible to the old Preakness homestead, which was a landmark for miles around, and which, in its day, had been a handsome house and estate. Now it was fallen into ruins, for there was a dispute among the heirs, and the property was in the Chancery Court. "Do you think we'll find him there?" asked Mark, as they made their way along the dusty highway. "Hard to tell. Yet, if he's hanging out in this neighborhood, that would be as good a place as any, for him to hide in." "I wonder who he can be, anyhow? And how he knows me?"