“But the cook, nor nobody, knows what’s become of him.  He was here peelin’ ’taters for supper, cookie says, jest b’fore we landed.  Now he’s sloped.”

“He saw you comin’, it’s likely,” rejoined Preston.  “He suspected what you was after.”

“Well, I’m goin’ to leave Daggett.  And, Lem!”

“Yes, sir?” said that slouching person.

“You got to get him.  Now mind that.  The boy’s to ’pear in ’Squire Keller’s court to-morrow—­or something will happen,” threatened the real estate man.

“And if he don’t appear, what then?” drawled Preston, who was more amused by the old man than afraid of him.

“You’d better not interfere with the course of the law, Preston,” declared Blent, shaking his head.

“You bet I won’t.  Especially the brand of law that’s handed a feller by your man, Keller.  But I don’t know nothing about the boy nor where he’s gone.  I don’t wanter know, either.

“And none of they rest o’ you wanter harbor that thief,” snarled Blent, viciously, looking around at the gaping hired men and the boys who had come to visit Cliff Island.  “The law’s got a long arm.  ’Member that!”

“Will we be breaking the law if we don’t report this poor fellow to the constable here, if we see him?” asked Tom Cameron, boldly.

“You bet you will.  And I’ll see that you’re punished if ye harbor or help the rascal.  Don’t think because Tingley’s a rich man, and your fathers have probably more money than is good for them, that you will escape,” said Blent.

“I don’t believe he’s so powerful as he makes out to be,” grumbled Tom, later, to Ruth. “I was the one who caught Jerry and whispered for him to get out.  I didn’t have to say much to him.  He was wise about Blent.”

“Where did he go?” asked the eager Ruth, quickly.

“I don’t know.  I didn’t want to know—­and you don’t, either.”

“But suppose something happens to him?” objected the girl, fearfully.

“Why, he knows all about this island.  You said so yourself.  I just told him we’d get some grub to him to-morrow.”

“How?”

“Told him we’d leave it at the foot of that tall pine at the far end of the island.  Then he slipped out of the kitchen and disappeared.”

But Blent was a crafty old party and did not easily give up the pursuit of the young fellow he had come to the island to nab.  The coat of fresh snow over everything made tracking the fugitive an easy task.

After a few minutes of sputtering anger, the real estate man organized a pursuit of Jerry.  He made sure that the forest youth had run out of the kitchen at about the time the visitors came up from the dock.

“He ain’t got a long start,” said Blent to his satellite, the constable.  “Let’s see if he didn’t leave tracks.”

He had.  There was still an hour of daylight, although the winter evening was closing in rapidly.  Jerry had left by the back door of the lodge and had gone straight across the yard, through the unbroken snow, to the bunkhouse used by the male help.