“I was after a thief,” answered Sam, and then he looked at Dick and Tom.  “Where is he?”

“Gone,” returned Dick.

“A thief!” ejaculated Joel Darrel.  “Whom did he rob?”

“He robbed me.”

“Do tell, Dick!  When?”

“About half an hour ago.  I was coming from the Corners with the mail, when he pounced on me near our berry patch and knocked me down.  He took my pocketbook and my watch, but Sam and Tom came up, and we chased the fellow and got the pocketbook back.”

“But he kept the watch?”

“Yes.”

“Was it a good one?”

“It was a gold watch that my father paid sixty-five dollars for —­ and the chain was worth ten; and, what is more, the watch was one my father used to wear; and as he is gone now, I thought a good deal of it on that account.”

“That’s natural, my boy.  But where did the thief go?”

“Came across the river about quarter of a mile above here.”

“Then he had a boat?”

“Yes —­ a craft painted brown, with a white stripe around her.”

“That’s Jerry Rodman’s boat.  He must have stolen her in the first place to cross to your side.”

“More than likely.”

“But where did he go after he crossed the river?”

“Into the bushes, I guess.  You see, Tom went overboard from the tree and got struck, and I went to his assistance, so I didn’t notice exactly.  I want to get back now and follow the rascal.”

“I’ll go along.”

“I wish you would.”

“In that case I won’t try to keep up with you,” put in Tom.  “My head is aching fit to split.”

“Yes, you may as well take it easy,” answered Dick.  “But, say, why not, walk up to the river road and see if the rascal heads in this direction?”

“So I will, Dick.  Will you go too, Sam?”

It was arranged that Sam should accompany and they set off immediately, while Dick and Joel Darrel ran along the river bank to where the rowboat had been abandoned.

Down where it was muddy it was easy to trace the tramp’s footprints, and they led through a meadow and across a cornfield, coming out at a side road leading to the town of Oak Run.

“Well, where to next?” questioned the farmer, as he and Dick came to a halt.

The youth shook his head.  “It’s so dry here the footprints are lost,” he returned slowly.

“That’s true, Dick.  But I reckon he went to Oak Run.”

“Why?”

“Because he could catch a train from there which would take him miles away —­ and I guess that is what he wants to do just about now.”

“There is something in that.”

“Besides, you know, the other end of the road ends up in the woods.  He wouldn’t go there.”

“I had best start for Oak Run, then.”

“I’ll go along.”

The distance was a mile and a half, and they thought they would have to walk it, but hardly had a dozen rods been covered than they heard the sound of wagon wheels, and a grocery turn-out and came into sight driven by a boy Joel Darrel knew well.