BEFORE the four men left the house Wilson revived and asked for his chief. Beveridge, his torn coat thrown aside, hurried back and bent over the bed. “What is it, Bert?” “That's what I was going to ask you. I don't remember--exactly--” “You were running around the house when somebody winged you. It doesn't amount to anything--you 'll be around in a day or so.” “Oh, yes--that's it. It was some fellow behind, wasn't it? I remember I didn't see anybody ahead.” “Yes--he was a little below the bridge, as I figure it.” “Yes--yes--don't you see, Bill? That's where Harper was--he stayed behind with some yarn about his shoe--had a stone in it.” “Keep quiet, Bert! don't get worked up--” “But think of it, Bill! What you going to do now?” “I'm going to find the man that hit you.” “Not with those two, Smiley and Harper?” “Why, certainly.” “But don't you see, Bill? That's just what they want. They've got rid of me--now they 'll draw you off into the woods--why, you're putting yourself right in their hands!” “You'd better try to think of something else, Bert. Mrs. van Deelen here is going to take good care of you. I 'll stop in on the way back.” And Beveridge slipped out the door without giving Wilson further opportunity to protest. The others were waiting impatiently at the steps. Smiley and Harper at once started off toward the creek below the barn; and Beveridge set out on a run for the bridge, telling the farmer to follow. When he reached the creek, Beveridge searched through the trees for some distance down-stream and then up-stream, but found no sign of a man. “Well,” he said, joining Van Deelen at the end of the bridge, “he got away all right.” “Did you look under the bridge?” “Yes. Nothing there.” The farmer stood still for a moment, thinking; then he clambered down the bank and peered into the shadow under the bridge floor. “Come down here,” he said. And when Beveridge had reached his side, standing ankle-deep in the muddy water, he went on, “See that?” “No--wait a minute, I can't see anything yet. What is it?” “Feel this rope. It's been cut.” “Oh,” murmured Beveridge, “I see. A boat.” “Yes. He has stolen my boat.” “Of course--and slipped off down-stream as easy and quiet as you like. He's a cool hand, that Spencer. Come back up here--we 'll go on down and meet Smiley. Wait, though, he might be hiding anywhere down the stream here. Are there many bushes and such along the bank?” “Yes, it's grown up pretty heavy. I never had any reason for keeping it cleared.” “Well, then, we 'll keep down here close to the water where we can see things.” “It 'll be pretty wet. Will you wait while I get my boots? My rheumatism's been pretty bad this year--” “Go back, then. I can't wait for you.” And with this, Beveridge pushed off down the stream. Van Deelen, after a moment's hesitation, followed. They met the other party just above the barn. “See anything?” asked Dick.