"What?" gasped Darrin. "This Tag Mosher. By Jove, it is, it? How on earth did you make him wait for us?" Then, all in a flying heap Dave projected himself against young Mosher, clinching with him and bearing him down to the ground. In order to make doubly sure Greg joined in the assault. But Tag, though he struggled, did not put up much of a fight. "Quit!" he ordered sullenly. "I'm all in. Can't you fellows see that? But if I hadn't been sick I'd either have gotten away, or would have given you fellows a fight that you'd never forget!" Quick-witted Dave was not long in discovering that Tag really was weak, as though from a recent illness. "Say," demanded Darry, "have we been exerting ourselves to thrash an ambulance case?" His voice rang with self disgust. "If I'd been a well one," growled Tag, "you never would have put me down, or held me. But I'm like a kitten to-night----strength all gone!" "What's going on here?" asked Deputy Valden, putting in a more leisurely appearance. "Something right in your line," Dick answered. "Dave and Greg are holding down Tag Mosher." "You're not fooling, are you?" demanded the deputy. "You're not making any mistake, either?" "We know Tag Mosher when we see him," Darry retorted. "We've good enough reason for knowing him." With his uninjured left hand Deputy Valden reached for his pair of handcuffs, passing them to Dave. "Here you are, Darrin," said the officer. "You know how to put these things on, don't you?" "I can figure the job out, sir," Dave made reply. Tag submitted, wearily, to having the steel bracelets snapped over his wrists. Then he heaved a sigh that had something of a sob in it. "I let you put these on, but I wish you'd take them off again," he said, addressing Valden. "I know I'm bad, and I know I'm tough, but I never had these things on my hands before. Take 'em off, won't you? Please!" Such submission was tame, indeed. Deputy Valden, who had never seen young Mosher before glanced sharply at young Prescott. "This fellow doesn't seem much like the hardened criminal I've been told about," remarked the officer. "Did Prescott tell you I was tough?" demanded the prisoner. "He ought to know! He had a touch of my style when I was feeling better than I feel to-night. I suppose I've been nabbed for helping myself to a sandwich or two from their camp." "Do you demand to know why you're under arrest?" inquired Deputy Valden. Tag nodded. "Well, then," continued the deputy, "you're wanted for cracking the skull of a farmer named Leigh. There's a doubt if Leigh will live and you may be charged with killing him." "I? Killed a farmer?" demanded Tag, in what appeared to be very genuine amazement. "Leigh says you're the chap that did it," Valden answered. "I never heard of a man of any such name," argued Tag. "Still, if he says I did it, oh, well, he ought to know, and I suppose it will be all right."