“If we weren’t on a hike, I’d send you to the guardhouse for that,” said the officer sternly. “You know what the orders are against this sort of business. I’ll take up your case when we get back to camp. Fall in!” Kennedy muttered something, and shot a look of anger at Jerry. “That was your fault,” he said. “My fault?” “Yes, you sneezed on purpose like a rooster, and you woke up the hen!” “Oh, come off! I sneezed by accident.” “I don’t believe you!” said Pug. “I’ll get square all right!” This seemed his favorite threat. Jerry laughed. It seemed too far-fetched to be worth noticing, but he was later to remember the promise of the bully. The farmer, his chicken restored to him, was satisfied, and the march was taken up again. Nothing of moment occurred the rest of that day, and at night a halt was made, and the dog tents put up in the fields and woods near the road. Each man carried half a tent, and by combining the two halves shelter for the largest part of a man’s body was secured. It was not as comfortable sleeping as in the barracks, but the night was warm and the boys were full of enthusiasm, which made up for a lot. They were gaining valuable experience, and, aside from minor troubles, every one was satisfied. It was late the next afternoon, and considerable ground had been covered, when something happened that had to do with Jerry, Ned and Bob. They, as well as every one else, were thinking of the coming night’s rest and a meal, when the order was given to rest, it being the last of those occasions for the day, preparatory to going into camp for the night. As Ned, Bob and Jerry were taking what comfort they could beside the road, the stout youth looked up as a wagon passed. In it was a man, seemingly a farmer, and though he drove by quickly Bob exclaimed: “There he is!” “Who?” asked Jerry lazily. “Crooked Nose!” answered Bob, greatly excited. “He’s the man we saw in Cresville the night of the fire when the Frenchman was robbed! Look, there he is!” and he pointed to the retreating wagon, which turned off down a side road. CHAPTER XXII THE ACCUSATION “Look here, Chunky!” exclaimed Jerry, with one look at his stout chum and another at the tail-end of the wagon. “Is this a joke, or what?” “Mostly what, I guess,” put in Ned. “If it’s a joke I don’t see the point, giving us heart disease that way. What do you mean? Was it Crooked Nose?” “That’s what I said,” retorted Bob as nearly sharp as his bubbling good-nature ever permitted him to be. “I tell you I saw the same man, with the same crooked nose, that ran into you, Jerry, in the restaurant that night in Cresville when we had the fire.” “Naturally if it was the same man he had the same nose,” said Ned. “Well, it was the same man all right,” went on Bob. “I don’t very often forget a face.” “Nor the time to eat,” added Jerry with a laugh. “Never mind, it will soon be time, Chunky. Don’t let your stomach get the best of you.” “What do you mean?” asked Bob.