"Here's our bird all right," said Detective Ferrett with a cold vulgarity which made the scouts' blood boil. "This is that Quebec chap, wanted for murder. Here's an easy five thousand. Look at this, Chief; look at these pictures and then look at that face. O. K.? This is him or I'm a dub. Just wait till I measure this chap." "Oh, you'll do nothing of the sort," said the surgeon briskly, and apparently not at all interested in Blythe's history or identity. "He's not going to walk away. Just stand out of the way, gentlemen, this is an ambulance call." A thrill of admiration passed through several of the scouts as they heard this. "I'd--I'd--anyway I'd rather be a doctor than a detective," Pee-wee whispered. "Well, it's all down on the paper here," said Detective Ferrett. "We've got him dead to rights. Aim for a goose and you hit a gander. This fellow's a red-handed thug from Canada. They've had the alarm out for him a couple of years. You kids never knew that, hey?" And by way of a pleasantry he hit Roy a rap with his bulging wallet. "We'll measure him up down yonder. The face is enough, but these specifications will clinch it." "If you're after specifications," said Roy, "you might as well put down that he's got a scar on his left heel. It's an old one, about ten years old. And we're glad you were the one to discover him and you're welcome to your old five thousand dollars. We don't want it, do we, Westy?" CHAPTER XXVII SCOUT LAW NUMBER TWO Then the scene of all their good times and of their broken hopes was quiet again, the ambulance and its attendant throng was gone, and the scouts were alone. "Can you hike home with your ankle like that?" Grove Bronson asked Roy. "Sure, we can take our time. If we get home by evening it's all right." "It's going to be moonlight here to-night--full moon," Westy said. "Let's get the cooking things packed first," Connie Bennett said. "Then we'll clear up." "We might stay for one more camp-fire," Hunt Ward suggested, half-heartedly. "It wouldn't seem the same," Artie said. They had all realized that. Dorry Benton laid aside the several tools that he had gathered up and looked about as if wondering what to do next. "He saved your life," Will Dawson said to Roy. "Do you think I don't know that?" Roy replied, a little catch in his voice. "Maybe if you--sort of--you know, if you save a life, maybe it makes up for taking one--" El Sawyer said. But it was plain that he did not quite believe that. "He didn't do it," Pee-wee said stoutly. "Do you think I don't know? I don't care what--he didn't do it. He likes us an--and--I--I like him--I--" "Don't, Kid, please don't," said Roy. "Didn't I say we were going to have two desserts that day I stalked a hop-toad up at Temple Camp, and wasn't I right?" Pee-wee persisted. "So there. I can always tell. And if a fellow saved my life I wouldn't let anybody say he was a murderer, I wouldn't." "You're a little brick, Kid," said Roy.