“That’s the point.  It’s the leaders.  The family has an alibi.  It goes in to the movies in the town on meeting nights.  The place has been searched twice, but he says they have a system of patrols that gives them warning.  The hills are heavily wooded there, and he thinks they have rigged up telephones in the trees.”

There was a short silence.  Willy Cameron studied the rug.

“I had to swear to keep it to ourselves,” Pink said at last.  “Cusick won’t let the Federal agents in on it.  They’ve raided him for liquor twice, and he’s sick as a poisoned pup.”

“How about the county detectives?”

“You know them.  They’ll go in and fight like hell when the time comes, but they’re likely to gum the game where there’s any finesse required.  We’d better find out for ourselves first.”

Willy Cameron smiled.

“What you mean is, that it’s too good a thing to throw to the other fellow.  Well, I’m on, if you want me.  But I’m no detective.”

Pink had come armed for such surrender.  He produced a road map of the county and spread it on the desk.

“Here’s the main road to Friendship,” he said, “and here’s the road they use.  But there’s another way, back of the hills.  Cusick said it was a dirt lane, but dry.  It’s about forty miles by it to a point a mile or so behind the farm.  He says he doesn’t think they use that road.  It’s too far around.”

“All right,” said Willy Cameron.  “We use that road, and get to the farm, and what then?  Surrender?”

“Not on your life.  We hide in the barn.  That’s all.”

“That’s enough.  They’ll search the place, automatically.  You’re talking suicide, you know.”

But his mind was working rapidly.  He was a country boy, and he knew barns.  There would be other outbuildings, too, probably a number of them.  The Germans always had plenty of them.  And the information was too detailed to be put aside lightly.

“When does he think they will meet again?”

“That’s the point,” Pink said eagerly.  “The family has been all over the town this morning.  It is going on a picnic, and he says those picnics of theirs last half the night.  What he got from the noise they were making was that they were raising dust again, and something’s on for to-night.”

“They’ll leave somebody there.  Their stock has to be looked after.”

“This fellow says they drop everything and go.  The whole outfit.  They’re as busy raising an alibi as the other lot is raising the devil.”

But Willy Cameron was a Scot, and hard-headed.

“It looks too simple, Pink,” he said reflectively.  He sat for some time, filling and lighting his pipe, and considering as he did so.  He was older than Pink; not much, but he felt extremely mature and very responsible.

“What do we know about Cusick?” he asked, finally.

“One of the best men we’ve got.  They’ve fired his place once, and he’s keen to get them.”