O.K.--I've got it. Say, what kind of an old tumbledown trap is that thing?"
demanded Jem, as the hostler reappeared leading a sorry nag attached to an old buggy with an enormous hood and a big shallow boot at the rear.
"It's an old mail carrier cart," replied the hostler. "But it's the only single rig we've got in the stable at the present time."
"Well, I suppose it will have to do," observed Jem indifferently. "I'll be back soon, Dan."
"All right."
Jem drove out of the yard and down a road leading out of the town. The horse was a decrepit animal and did not go very fast. While trying to think out the best plan to pursue, Frank followed after the cart at a safe distance.
He had gone only a little way when he wished he had remained near the stable and had followed Dan. That would have been easier. Dan had planned to return to the hut and had already disappeared in its direction.
Unguided, however, Frank did not believe that he could locate it. He kept on down the road, therefore, after Jem, unwilling to lose sight of both of the men who certainly knew all about the diamond bracelet stolen from Lemuel Mace's jewelry store at Tipton.
"This man Jem has the bracelet," reflected Frank, "and just as surely he is going to some man named Staggers to sell it or get him to sell it for them.
Then he will return to Dan to divide the spoils. I can't miss scoring some kind of a point following that cart."
This Frank did for over two miles. Then he began to grow wearied and footsore. He had no idea how many miles Jem planned to go, and finally he carried out a bold idea.
This was to climb into the deep boot at the back of the vehicle. The hood in front prevented Jem from seeing what was going on behind him. As the horse struck a patch of very rutty road, Frank ran close up to the buggy.
The vehicle was wobbling and jolting so that the action of his additional weight on the springs did not attract the attention of the driver. Frank cuddled down in the shell-shaped receptacle for mail and parcels, fairly out of sight.
It must have been fully two hours later when Jem drove into a town of quite some size. It was, in fact, a small city, and from what Frank knew of the district he decided that it must be Rockton, a place about eleven miles from the academy town.
Frank slipped from the boot of the cart after the vehicle had made one or two turnings. When he did this he dropped flat in the middle of the road and remained there until Jem had made another turn, when he was up and away, again on the trail of the man.
After proceeding quite some distance, Jem halted the horse at the edge of a sidewalk near an alleyway. He tied the animal to a ring at the curb and proceeded down the dark lane near by.
Frank had gained the shelter of an open hallway directly opposite the point where the vehicle had halted. He stood there pondering as to his next move, when the sharp clatter of running footsteps attracted his attention.
The next minute a boy about his own size darted around the corner, running at full speed. As he rounded into view, he seemed to see some one ahead blocking his way. With an utterance of dismay and excitement he veered from his course, and sprang directly into the hallway that sheltered Frank.
"Hold on, I say!" cried Frank, fairly swept off his footing.
"Don't say a word," panted the strange lad. "Some one is after me! Show yourself, fool them, or I'm a goner. Is there any way out of this?"
Frank heard the boy run down the hall, try a locked door at the rear, and utter a cry of sharp disappointment and concern.
"They've trapped me!" he gasped.
Frank stepped toward the sidewalk and peered out, not quite able to figure out what had happened or was happening. He did not want to become mixed up in any trouble, especially just now when all his energies were centered on keeping track of the man Jem.
Frank saw one man coming running around the corner which the refugee had just turned. Almost in front of the open driveway he met a man who came running from the opposite direction.
"They're constables," murmured Frank,
"Did you see him?" began the first officer.
"A boy?" queried the man.
"Yes."
"Run into that hallway."
"Ah, there he is! Out with you--aha! I've caught you at last, have I?"
cried the first officer triumphantly.
He seized Frank by the arm and pulled him out on to the sidewalk. The way he whirled him around amid his wild glee made Frank's teeth chatter.
"Hold on!" our hero demanded, struggling to free himself. "What's all this about?"
"What's it about, eh?" chuckled his captor. "Mighty innocent, aren't you?
Don't remember me a bit, do you? Look sharp at me, now," rallied the officer. "I guess you'll recognize me, my soft and downy young bird, if you'll look hard enough."
"I never saw you before, and you never saw me before," declared Frank, getting nettled at his rough treatment.
"Thunder! that's so."
The officer, peering closely at Frank, staggered back as though he was about to collapse. He goggled at Frank, choking with stupefaction and disappointment.
"What's the matter, Hawkes?" asked the other officer.
"This isn't the boy I was chasing."
"It must be."
"But it isn't."
"Well, anyhow, it's the fellow who shot around that street corner a few minutes ago and dodged into the doorway, for I saw him."
"Then I must have been chasing the wrong boy."
"I reckon that's so."
Both officers looked Frank over speculatively and suspiciously.
"No, he ain't the fellow," observed the officer who had grabbed Frank.
"But, say, who are you?"
"I'm Frank Jordan, a student at the Bellwood Academy," answered our hero promptly.
"We don't know that," observed the second officer.
"I can easily prove it to you," asserted Frank.
"All right, fetch him up to the station, Hawkes, and let him explain to the captain how he comes to be snooking around people's houses at this unearthly hour of the morning."
Frank was very much cut up at this decision. To leave that spot meant possibly to lose all track of Jem and the stolen bracelet.