LITMIR.BIZ

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be with you in a minute," said Brack. "I'll just tell mother."

      "Let her know her little boy is going out in good company," said Hackler.

      "I'll tell her who I'm goin' with, then she can judge for herself, whether the company's good or bad," replied Brack.

      Hackler laughed as he said: "You're a smart chap, Brack."

      "Am I? Then perhaps you can find me a job out your way."

      "Better where you are," said Hackler, with what sounded very much like a sigh.

      Brack went into his mother's room. She was awake.

      "What is it, lad?" she asked.

      "Hush, mother! I'm goin' out with Hackler in my boat. He's the man from Dartmoor, on the lookout for the escaped prisoner. I'm rowin' him out to the tramp; she's put back again."

      She smiled; she knew all about it.

      "Tell him not to stir out of that room until I comes home. He'll sleep a good while. He must not come out, not even in here – you understand, mother?"

      "Yes, but who is he?"

      "He's the man Hackler's after; the man who strangled the bloodhound. He knows our Bill. He's a gentleman; he'll do what he can for him when he's proved his innocence. He is – "

      "Come on, Brack; don't be all day," called Hackler.

      "I'll see to him, lad, never fear; he's safe with me," said his mother.

      "Comin'," said Brack as he went out and joined him.

      CHAPTER VII

      A CRITICAL MOMENT

      BRACK, as I remarked before, you are a smart fellow. Were you putting me off the scent when you said the man I am looking for went off in the tramp?" said Hackler.

      "I never said he were the man; I said there were a man went off with the boat's crew to the tramp."

      "I gave a description of him."

      "It seemed like him to me," said Brack.

      They reached the harbor; Brack pulled in his boat; Hackler stepped in and was rowed toward the tramp. The dirty looking steamer was farther out than anticipated, and Brack took his time; his practiced eyes discerned something invisible to Hackler.

      "Steam up," said Carl.

      "Most likely she'll be going in an hour or two."

      "I wonder what she put back for?" said Hackler half to himself.

      "Short o' coal," grinned Brack.

      "Shut up and don't be a fool," growled Carl.

      Brack could see the steamer as he looked sideways over his shoulder. A humorous smile stole over his face.

      "She's movin'," he thought.

      There was a stir at the stern of the tramp, the screw revolved, she was steaming away, and Carl Hackler was too late. When he recognized this he lost his temper; he had taken his journey for nothing. Catching sight of Brack's face, he fancied he detected laughter there; this did not improve matters.

      "Confound you, I believe you knew she was going!" he said angrily.

      "Not until the screw turned," said Brack.

      Hackler stood up in the boat and waved; some one on the tramp answered the signal but she continued on her way.

      "D – n the fellow, why doesn't he stop!" raged Carl.

      "Looks suspicious, but he doesn't know who you are. If he did he'd be sure to slow down," said Brack.

      Carl turned round quickly; he had an idea he was being chaffed and didn't like it. He stumbled, barked his leg on the seat, fell forward, and sprawled in the bottom of the boat. He did not know a sudden spurt by Brack caused this.

      He floundered about, smothered his rage as best he could, then ordered Brack to row him back.

      "Hope yer not hurt," said Brack sympathetically.

      No answer was vouchsafed to this polite inquiry.

      "Looks as though he might be aboard that tramp," said Brack. "They got off pretty sudden; perhaps you were recognized."

      "Who'd have recognized me?" asked Carl.

      "Him as yer looking for."

      Carl laughed.

      "Not likely; I don't think he ever saw me."

      "But you've seen him?"

      "Scores of times."

      "You'd know him again?"

      "Of course; he's easy to recognize. But they've probably got him by now."

      "Poor chap."

      "Call him that, do you? You'd not do it if you knew what he was there for."

      "Tell me."

      "He shot a man whose wife he had been carrying on with. It was a brutal, cold-blooded murder. The husband found them together; they were fairly trapped, so the fellow shot him."

      "Funny he should carry a revolver about with him," said Brack.

      "It wasn't his revolver, it was the husband's; that's why he was reprieved. It was argued that the weapon was in the room, that on the spur of the moment he picked it up and shot him."

      "Oh," said Brack meditatively. "I suppose it never occurred to you, or the larned judge, or the blessed jury, that some one else might have shot him."

      Carl laughed.

      "Who else could have shot him?"

      "It's not for me to say; I'm not clever enough. She might 'a' done it."

      "Who?"

      "The wife."

      "What nonsense! He confessed he did it."

      "Eh!" exclaimed Brack.

      "I say he confessed he fired the shot."

      "And he says he's innocent," said Brack.

      Carl stared at him.

      "Says he's innocent!" he exclaimed. "How do you know?"

      Brack saw his mistake and quickly covered it.

      "I lived in Yorkshire at the time. I know all about the trial; I read it."

      "Oh," said Carl. "If you read it you know more about it than I do."

      "Very likely," said Brack as the boat went alongside the steps.

      Carl landed; he gave Brack half a crown.

      "Five bob," said Brack.

      "But you didn't go to the tramp."

      "I couldn't; she was away."

      "Then you can't claim the lot," said Carl, who was annoyed at missing the steamer.

      "I suppose not exactly," drawled Brack, "but betwixt gents, I should say it holds good."

      Despite his annoyance, Carl could not help laughing.

      "I suppose you must have it," he said, and handed him another half-crown.

      "Goin' home to-day?" asked Brack.

      "Home!"

      "To Dartmoor."

      "That's not my home."

      "It's where yer located, at any rate."

      "I don't know. There's no trace of the man. It's queer where he's got to; I fancy he's dead – fallen down a mine, or been starved out."

      "That's about it," said Brack. "Fancy looking for him round here! Seems a bit soft to me."

      "You take a lot of interest in this man," said Carl eying him closely.

      "No more than I do in any man who makes a fight for liberty."

      "Would you let 'em all loose on Dartmoor?" sneered Carl.

      "I'd chance it if there were any innocent men among 'em."

      "There are none."

      "There's

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