"It'll have to be all right---whatever the courts may do to you, Mosher," Deputy Valden rejoined curtly. "Darrin, will you help the prisoner to his feet and lead him back to where the bridge was? Simmons will expect to find us there when he gets back." So Darry and Greg Holmes assisted young Mosher to his feet. Dave took hold of Tag's arm, though the latter did not resist, but walked along like one in a dream. "Want any help, Dick?" asked Greg. "I believe I wouldn't object to having a friendly arm to lean on," Prescott replied. "I've been standing here so long that my hip is stiff again." As the leader of Dick & Co. moved down the road, Tag turned in astonishment. "What's the matter?" Tag asked, at last. "We were in an automobile accident, and I was slightly injured," Dick confessed. "And you can hardly walk?" "I can walk only with effort and considerable pain," said Dick. Tag Mosher whistled softly. "My luck is leaving me," declared Mosher ruefully. "Prescott, when I saw you and looked you over I didn't see that you are a cripple. I thought you were in as good shape as ever. As for me, I can't do much to-night, I'm so weak. I thought that, if I tried to fight, you'd handle me easily enough. If I ran, I knew I couldn't run far, and you'd jump on my back and bear me to the ground. So I thought it easier to let you have your own way with me. Whee! I didn't do a thing but surrender to a cripple that ought to be on crutches! My luck is gone!" This last was said with an air of great dejection, as though Tag never looked to have any further pleasure in life. Presently he muttered, half aloud: "And now they say that I've committed a murder! They'll prove it on me, too. Tag Mosher, you're done for." "Anyway, you're in a rather bad fix, young man," confirmed Deputy Valden. "Even with the best luck you'll be locked up for some years to come." "That will kill me!" muttered Tag sullenly. "I can't live anywhere outside of the big forest. In jail---why, I'd die of lack of fresh air! My father, old Bill Mosher, can get along in jail all right---he's used to it. But me? The first two weeks behind bars will kill me!" "You should have thought of that before you cracked Leigh's skull," retorted Deputy Valden. "I tell you that I didn't do it, and that I never before heard of a man of that name!" cried Tag Mosher fiercely. "Leigh says you did," the deputy again informed the prisoner. "Oh, well, then, we'll say that I did," agreed Tag moodily. "I'm as good as finished, if the charge has been made. No one around here would think of believing anything that Tag Mosher might say." Somehow, despite the unsavory reputation of the prisoner, Dick Prescott found himself feeling more than ordinary sympathy for this dejected prisoner. Could it be possible that Tag really was innocent of this last and most serious charge against him? It didn't seem likely that the officers had gone after the wrong young man.