"Not a thing," said Jed, "but they're back there, somewhere. Wait a minute," and he got down and looked at the road again. "By George!" he cried, "they ain't far off! See, here's where they turned th' wagon an' started her back." Then he looked at the tracks again. "I don't know, either," he added. "I don't believe they turned it at all. Look how it ran down in this gully here by the fence--it's a wonder it didn't upset. The horses turned toward home themselves." "Well, and where are the convicts?" asked the sheriff. "They're somewhere between here an' th' forks o' th' road," said Jed. "They can't git away!" But by noon he was forced to confess that their capture was not going to be so easy as he had supposed. Practically every foot of the ground on both sides of the road had been beaten over, and yet not a trace of the robbers had been discovered. Nay, more than that, search as he might, Jed, with all his skill in woodcraft, was not able to discover where they had left the road. That four men, carrying a heavy chest, should have been able to cross the muddy fields which extended on both sides of the road without leaving some mark of their passage seemed absurd, and yet, after going over the ground for the third time, Jed was forced to confess himself defeated. "They're slick ones--that's all I kin say," he remarked, and mounted his horse and started back to Coalville. The sheriff picketed every by-path; through all the neighbourhood the alarm was spread, and men were on the alert. Acting under instructions from the State authorities, the sheriffs of adjoining counties set a guard on every road by which Coalville could possibly be approached, and every one who could not give a satisfactory account of himself and who resembled in the least degree any one of the four convicts, was placed under arrest. The police of every city, the constables of every township, nay, the dwellers in every house, were on the lookout for the fugitives. It seemed impossible that they could escape through the meshes of a net so closely drawn. Yet two days passed, and they had not been heard from. They had disappeared as completely as though the earth had opened and swallowed them. CHAPTER XXVII A GRUESOME FIND When Allan opened his eyes, it was to find the kindly face of Mary Welsh looking down at him. "Is it time to get up?" he asked, and tried to rise, but Mary pressed him gently back against the pillow. "There, there, lay still," she said. "But what," he began--and then a sudden twinge in the side brought back in a flash all that had occurred. "Am I hurt?" he asked. "Not bad, th' doctor says; but you'll have t' kape quiet fer awhile. They's two ribs broke." "Two ribs!" repeated Allan. "Right there in yer side," said Mary, indicating the place. "Oh, yes; that's where Dan Nolan kicked me." "Where what?" cried Mary, her eyes flashing. And Allan related in detail the story of his encounter with Nolan.