His musings led Prescott rather far afield.  At last he halted, looking about him in some bewilderment.

“Humph!  That’s queer!” he muttered.  “Now, I wonder if I can really remember what it was I came out here for?”

For a few moments the bewilderment continued.

“Oh, yes!  Now, I know,” he laughed.  “I am after some of that savory herb for the soup.”

It was necessary to retrace his steps considerably, and to go in a somewhat different direction.  At last he came upon a patch of the herb.

“This stuff has been burned by the sun,” he said to himself, turning away from the first specimens of the herb.  “Over there in the shade it will be fresher and greener.”

Dick took a few rapid steps, halting before a fringe of bushes.  Bending over, he extended a hand to pick some of the herbs.

Just then he heard a slight sound, like the catching of someone’s breath.  Starting, Prescott raised his head just a trifle, to find himself looking straight into the eyes of Tag Mosher, as that youth lay flat on the ground.  Two muzzles of a shotgun stared Dick in the face, while the fingers of the fugitive rested on the triggers of the gun.

“If you’re looking for me,” grimaced Tag, “you’ve found me!  I’m right here, and this is going to be my dizzy day!”

CHAPTER XVI

TEN MINUTES OF REAL DARING

Still keeping his eyes turned on the fugitive, Dick took three quick, backward steps.

“Halt!” ordered Tag.

“I was going to stop, anyway,” smiled Dick.  “Now, put your hands up!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m boss here!” remarked Tag.

“I didn’t know that you were boss of anything,” Dick replied, still smiling.

“I’m telling you,” declared Mosher.  “Want me to make good?”

“I wish you’d make something of yourself, instead,” rejoined Prescott in a voice of intense earnestness.

“Get your hands up!” ordered Tag, with a decided increase in emphasis.

“That’s a silly demand on your part,” Dick retorted calmly.  “Why should you want my hands up?  I’m not armed, and am in no position to attack you.  Are you such a coward, Mosher, that you’re afraid of an unarmed fellow that you could thrash even if you were unarmed?  I can’t bring myself to believe that of you.

“You’ve a mighty fine opinion of me, haven’t you?” jeered Tag.

“I’d like to have a fine opinion of you,” Prescott declared.

“Oh!  And what must I do to win that fine opinion?” demanded Tag mockingly.

“If you want to know, I’ll tell you,” Dick continued.  “Just put down that gun and step away from it.”

“And then you’ll pounce on it and hold me up!” jeered Tag.  “Fine!”

“You get away from your weapon,” Prescott urged, “and I’ll give you my word of honor not to touch it without your leave.”