“Dave, don’t you know, well enough, that newspapers do more than the police, nowadays, in clearing up mysteries?”

“This may be more than a mystery,” hinted Dave.  “Even if we get through to the end of this trail—–­or mystery we may find a crime at that end.”

“All the more need, then, for moving on fast.  See here, Dave, I’ll follow just the way this footprint points.  You get out a hundred feet or so to the right.  And we’ll move as fast as we can, now.”

The wisdom of this plan was soon apparent, for it was Dave Darrin who discovered the next footprint.  He summoned Dick Prescott with a sharp hiss.

“Yes; all right,” nodded Dick, joining his comrade and gazing down at one of the narrow bootmarks.  “But don’t send a long signal again, Dave.  We might be close, and warn some one out of our way.”

“What shall we do, then?”

“We’ll look frequently at each other, and the fellow who discovers anything will make signs to the other.”

Three minutes later Dick Prescott crouched low behind a line of bushes, his eyes glistening as he peered and listened.  Then he began to make wildly energetic signals to Dave Darrin.

The head partner of Dick & Co. had fallen upon something that interested him—–­tremendously!

CHAPTER IV

THE “SOREHEADS” IN CONCLAVE

Dave Darrin came stealing over, as soft-footed as any panther.

Dick did not turn around to look at his chum.  He merely held up a cautioning hand, and Darrin moved even more stealthily.

In another moment Dave’s head was close to his chum’s, and both young men were gazing upon the same scene.

“Davis and Fremont-----” whispered Darrin in his chum’s ear.

“Bayliss, Porter and Drayne,” Dick nodded back, softly.

“Trenhold, Grayson, Hudson,” continued Darrin.

“All the ‘soreheads,’” finished Dick Prescott for him.

“Or nearly all,” supplemented Dave.

Indeed, the scene upon which these two High School boys gazed was one that greatly interested them.

On a little knoll, just beyond the line of bushes, and on lower ground, fully a dozen young men lounged, basking in the morning sun, which poured through upon this small, treeless space.

Though the young men down in the knoll were not carefully attired, there was a general similarity in their dress.  All wore sweaters, and nearly all of them wore cross-country shoes.  Evidently the whole party had been out for a cross country run.

Now, the dozen or so were eagerly engaged in conversation.

“It’s too bad Purcell won’t join us,” remarked Davis.

“Yes,” nodded another fellow in the group; “he belongs with us.”

“Oh, well,” spoke up Bayliss, “if Purcell would rather be with the muckers, let him.”

“Now, let’s not be too rank, fellows,” objected Hudson slowly.  “I wouldn’t call all the fellows muckers who don’t happen to belong in our crowd.”