Just as Jerry sc.r.a.ped a match, a crunching noise was heard back from the stream. It grew nearer and louder. The boys stopped their occupations, and glanced in the direction of the sound. A moment later the bushes parted and two men emerged.

The foremost was an old acquaintance, Mr. Silas Raikes. His companion was a sinister-looking fellow, with a heavy black beard and mustache.

Both were armed with rifles, and a well-packed hand-sled trailed behind them.

"Hullo!" exclaimed Raikes, in a tone of the utmost surprise. "We meet again, my young friends. This is an unexpected pleasure. Not taking a bath on such a morning as this, I hope."

"Hamp was compelled to take one," replied Jerry.

He briefly related the stirring events of the past twenty-four hours, beginning with the start from the far side of Moosehead Lake. Meanwhile the fire blazed up merrily, and Hamp got himself into dry clothes and blankets.

"You've had a tough time of it, boys!" commented Silas Raikes. "I'm glad to find that you weathered the storm all right. And so you're bound in our direction? I had no idea you intended traveling to Chesumcook."

"That's what we told you the night you were at our camp," replied Jerry.

"Then I forgot all about it," admitted Raikes. "You see, I've got a bad memory."

"Are you still prospecting?" asked Brick.

"Not in this weather," was the reply. "We're taking a sort of a roundabout way home."

"We feared you were lost in the storm," said Jerry. "After it was over we hunted the neighborhood for your camp."

"And didn't find it, eh?" laughed Raikes. "No wonder, lads. We had a snug nest among the rocks, two miles or more from the lake. But pardon me. I quite forgot to introduce my friend, of whom I spoke to you before. This is Joe Bogle, from Augusta, Maine. We've been partners for many a year."

The black-bearded man had been scrutinizing the lads--and Brick in particular--with keen attention. Now he stepped forward, and nodded in response to the introduction.

"I'm glad to meet any friends of my partner," he said, in a low, oily voice.

A surprised and puzzled look appeared on Brick's face. He stared intently at Mr. Joe Bogle.

"Haven't I met you before?" he exclaimed.

CHAPTER XIX.

BOGLE SHOWS HIS HAND.

A brief pause followed Brick's impulsive question. The boys looked on with interest. Raikes gave an almost imperceptible start. Then he drew a pipe from his pocket, and began to clean the bowl industriously with a twig of wood.

Mr. Joe Bogle was the most unconcerned one of the party. A smile lightened his sinister features, and he came quite close to Brick.

"We may have met before, youngster," he drawled, in a tone that was the exact opposite of the one he had used before. "It's quite likely, though I can't say that I remember your face."

"I guess I'm mistaken," admitted Brick. "It was your voice that seemed familiar when you first spoke. I don't notice it now."

"I've often been tricked that way," said Raikes, laughing. "Lots of people have voices alike. Still, you may have run across Bogle some time or another. How long have you been in Maine?"

"I never was inside the State in my life, until two or three weeks ago,"

replied Brick.

"Then I reckon you must be mistaken," emphatically declared Raikes.

"Bogle and I have been in the woods since November."

"And I haven't been outside of Maine for nearly fifteen years," added Bogle. "It ain't very likely we met before that."

He laughed in a rasping way. Brick laughed, too. Now that the stranger's voice had lost its familiar chord, he was satisfied of his mistake, and ceased to think about the matter.

Raikes quickly turned the conversation into a different channel.

"It seems to me," he said, "that we ought to overhaul that rascally thief, and restore the stolen property to these lads. How does it strike you, Bogle?"

He exchanged a lightning-like glance with his companion. The latter nodded a.s.sent.

"That's right," he replied. "I'm with you. It won't take us much out of our way."

"No," Raikes continued, "we'll catch him in a jiffy. He can't be far off."

"It would have taken him almost this long to put on his clothes," said Jerry. "He has snowshoes, though."

"So have we," replied Raikes. "If you lads will come along with us, we'll try to recover the money and watch."

"Hamp ain't fit to travel," answered Jerry. "He's got to sit over this fire for a couple of hours. And Brick and I can't leave him alone.

Besides, how are you going to cross the Mallowgash? That leap is too dangerous."

"Just below the bend, yonder, is a clean freeze-over," replied Raikes.

"We were in the act of crossing when we heard you fellows sing out. But one of you ought to go with us to identify the property and bring it back. You see, the rascal may head just in the direction we want to go, and; under them circ.u.mstances, we wouldn't care about tramping all the way back."

"I'll go with you," eagerly exclaimed Brick. "I'd like to be on hand when you corner Sparwick, and make him fork over."

A sudden gleam pa.s.sed over Bogle's face. Raikes twisted his mustache and looked across the stream.

"It don't matter which one of you goes," he replied, carelessly. "Come on, youngster, if the rest are willing."

Jerry and Hamp had no objections to offer. They knew that Brick was eager for the chase, and they saw no reason why he should not accept the friendly offer of the two genial strangers. It was his money and his watch that were at stake.

Brick filled his belt with fresh cartridges, and shouldered his rifle.

Then he started briskly down stream with Raikes and Bogle.

As soon as they rounded the bend, the party found the channel frozen tightly from sh.o.r.e to sh.o.r.e. They crossed over and went up the other side. They soon found Sparwick's trail, leading off from the Mallowgash at a right angle. After apprising Jerry and Hamp of this fact by a shrill whistle--the signal agreed upon--they took up the chase.

For a mile they pushed on through heavy forest and rocks. The men went at a rapid pace, and Brick easily kept up with them.

"We'll overhaul the rascal before long," a.s.sured Raikes. "You'll get back to your companions in time for dinner."

But at the end of another mile Sparwick was still invisible; nor did the scant-marks of his snowshoes appear to be particularly fresh. He evidently suspected pursuit, and was moving at his top speed.