off with the feeling that there was something queer afoot.

"It's the wrong man," his brain kept telling him over and over;
and when he told the police that, and heard their shouts of
laughter, the words kept repeating themselves over and over,
"The wrong man!"

There was a Boy Scout meeting one night, and Wugs went. After
the usual business was over, gathering them around him in a close
group, Wugs went over the story of his brother's great invention,
its try-out on the herd of cows, his home-coming, and the
terrible ending to his triumphant day. Then in a still lower
tone, as though he feared the very walls might turn traitor, he
told them of his feeling that the man waiting trial for the
attack on poor Lester was not the spy who had taken the formula.

"That's the thing to find out," said Wugs. "The Police are dead
sure they have the right fellow, but I'll never believe it until
I find that paper. You see, he didn't have a chance to mail it
unless he had a confederate waiting outside to take it away.
That's what we have got to find out."

"Why, 'course he had a what-you-call-it!" the Potter twins broke
in.

"Slow down! Slow down!" begged Wugs. "Gee, how do you suppose
anybody can tell what you say when you both talk at once? Let's
have Porky; you claim to be the oldest."

"See how it was," said Porky, with a free field, leering at his