“Hullo!  I didn’t expect to see you again to-day!” exclaimed Munro Staton, as he opened the door for them.  “Come in.”

They entered, to find the girls sewing and Mrs. Staton darning stockings.  Mr. Staton had been reading his favorite weekly newspaper.

“We have come on a very important errand, Mr. Staton,” began Dick.  “We have been down to Oakville and learned there that you are the local police officer.”

“Ah!  Do you want somebody arrested?”

“If it can be done.”

“Somebody at the camp?” put in Helen.

“No, I wish he was at the camp,” said Tom.  “But I’m afraid he is miles away.”

All of the Statons were interested and listened to the tale Tom and Dick had to tell with close attention.

“Seems to me I’ve heard of this Baxter and his son,” said Munro Staton, scratching his head.  “How does he look?”

As well as he was able Tom described the man, while Dick took a sheet of paper and a pencil and made a rough but life-like sketch of the individual.

“Why, you are quite an artist!” said Alice Staton as she gazed at the picture.  “I’m sure I’d recognize that man if I met him.”

“So would I,” added her father.  “Can I keep this picture?”

“To be sure,” replied Dick.  “Now, Mr. Staton, to come to business.  What are your services as constable worth a day?”

“Oh, about two or two dollars and a half.”

“Well if you will start a hunt for this man Baxter at once I’ll guarantee you three dollars, per day for a week or two, and if you succeed in landing him in jail I’ll guarantee you a reward of one hundred dollars.  I know my father will pay that amount willingly.”

“And if he won’t, I will,” said Tom.

“You must be rich.”

“We are fairly rich, Mr. Staton.  This man is a great criminal and has been an enemy to our family for years.  We don’t want to see him at large.”

“Well, I’ll take the job and do the best I can for you,” said Munro Staton and arose to his feet.  “My hired man can run the farm while I am gone.”

He said he knew the spot where the boys had first seen Arnold Baxter, and he would visit it at sunrise the next day and take up the trail as best he could.

“That trail through the woods used to lead to the village of Hopdale,” he said.  “Perhaps I’ll learn something about him over there.”

“I sincerely hope that you do,” returned Dick.

The boys, and especially Tom, were worn out with traveling and readily consented to borrow a horse from Munro Staton, on which to ride back to camp.  The steed was returned early in the morning.

“It’s rather a wild-goose chase,” said Dick, in talking matters over with his brothers.  “But I don’t know of anything else to do.  Mr. Staton may catch Baxter quicker than a metropolitan detective could do the job.”

Three days passed, and during that time the boys received two telegrams from home, stating they should do as they thought best in the Baxter affair, and that a detective was on the way.  Then the detective appeared at the camp and followed Munro Staton on the hunt for the missing criminal.  But the search by both men proved useless, and nothing more was seen of Arnold Baxter for the time being.