Lanky was shaking his head and muttering to himself.
"You see, he was in town last night. I saw him twice, and his actions looked a bit suspicious too. He didn't seem to want anybody to notice him, for he dodged out of sight when a man came along. Now, what did he do that for, I'd just like to know? Even Lef Seller noticed him, for he said so. I don't like it at all."
Lanky did not say anything more, for Frank was speaking, and with his companion he moved closer, expecting to hear what the chief replied, for he was a loud talker over the wire, with a voice that carried like a flute.
"Hello! is this Chief Hogg?" asked Frank.
"It is. Who's that talking—that you, Frank?" for somehow the other had recognized the boy's voice.
"Yes, Frank Allen. Lanky is here, and he's just been telling us something he heard down at your place a bit ago."
"Oh! yes, you must mean about that clever rascal, Bill Brockholt, who escaped from the prison over at Lauderville, and is supposed to have headed this way. We were warned to keep a good lookout for him. He's a smart rascal, and a desperate one, too. What's in the wind, Frank; want to try your hand at rounding up another lag of this kind? You
