"Come on," suggested Jack to his chum, after the small chap had
departed. "Let's go down by the white bridge and make some inquiries of
people living in that vicinity. They may have seen a stranger hanging
around, and, perhaps we can get on his trail that way."

"All right," agreed Mark, and they walked on together.

They had gone quite a distance away from the bridge, and had made
several inquiries, but had met with no success, and they were about to
give up and go back home.

"I know one person we haven't inquired of yet," said Mark, as they
tramped along.

"Who's that?"

"Old Bascomb, who lives alone in a shack on the edge of the creek. You
know the old codger who traps muskrats."

"Oh, sure; but I don't believe he'd know anything. If he did, he's so
cranky he wouldn't tell you."

"Maybe he would, if we gave him a little money for some smoking
tobacco. It's worth trying, anyhow. Bascomb goes around a great deal,
and he may have met a strange man in his travels."

"Well, go ahead; we'll ask him."

The muskrat trapper did not prove to be in a very pleasant frame of
mind, but, after Mark had given him a quarter, Bascomb consented to