‘They got the bag and made me tell them what to put in it,’ continued Gladys Ermintrude. ‘But, sakes alive, I simply couldn’t think of half the things I really needed, and I came away without my negligee and――oh, several other things. I really don’t see how I managed to get along as well as I did!’ ‘Well, then,’ said Pud, ‘what did they do it for?’ The girl’s eyes opened wide. ‘Why, for the reward, of course!’ ‘Sure,’ assented Tim. ‘Folks always offer rewards, Pud.’ Pud looked unconvinced. ‘I wouldn’t,’ he said, eyeing Gladys Ermintrude with no enthusiasm. Then: ‘Who were those men?’ he asked. ‘They were’――the girl’s gaze wavered momentarily――‘they were a Mr. Liscomb and――’ ‘But that’s your name!’ exclaimed Tim. ‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘He’s my uncle. The tallest one, I mean.’ ‘Oh, shucks!’ said Pud. ‘You can’t be kidnaped by your own uncle! Gee, I knew there was something queer about it!’ ‘You can, too,’ responded the girl indignantly. ‘I guess an uncle can be just as――just as villainous as any one. You don’t know my uncle Asa!’ ‘Who’s the other one?’ asked Pud. ‘Uncle Asa’s brother. His name’s William.’ ‘Well, he’s your uncle, too, isn’t he?’ demanded Pud impatiently. ‘No, he’s not.’ ‘Well, but, gee, he’s got to be! If he’s your uncle’s brother, he’s your uncle, too. Isn’t he, Tim?’ ‘Well,’ began Tim hesitantly. But at that moment Harmon broke in with the warning announcement that there was a boat coming down the river, and the matter of relationship was dropped. Pud viewed the still distant craft and decided on discretion. ‘They might see you and tell your _uncles_,’ he said to the girl, emphasizing the last word triumphantly. ‘You sit down here and I’ll throw the end of the tent over you till they get by.’ ‘It isn’t “they,” it’s “him,”’ answered Gladys Ermintrude. ‘It’s Pete Minger, and he’s going after them.’ ‘After those――after your uncles?’ She nodded cheerfully. ‘They’re going farther down the river. Pete’s going to tow them. He’s sort of late and――’ ‘He’s coming like the dickens,’ exclaimed Tim admiringly. ‘Gosh, that boat goes, don’t it?’ Pud hastily pushed the seemingly unwilling girl to a position beside the tent and drew a corner of a flap over her. ‘You keep still,’ he warned her. There was a smothered response that sounded rebellious. ‘You scrooch down, too, Harmon. We don’t want any trouble, I guess. You sort of turn your back, Tim.’ The oncoming launch bore down fast. In the stern lolled a disreputable-looking individual in a torn khaki shirt, hatless, smoking a pipe. He waved carelessly as he passed, but Pud saw that he was plainly interested in the _Vengance_. Even after he had passed, he kept his gaze upstream for several minutes. ‘All right,’ said Pud finally, throwing off the tent flap. ‘You can get up now.’