Where was Jerry?

Boys from Tent Four were crowding on the stage, getting the scene ready for the next act. Jake Utway stood stock-still, gazing at the rafters overhead, where his brother had been a moment since. He could not have descended into the lodge unobserved in the short time Jake had spent in his dark box. Why hadn’t he taken his cue and dropped to the stage at Chink’s summons? It was not like Jerry to do a thing like that. There must be some good reason——
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Jake went over in his mind the plan they had made for this “disappearing act” which had turned out to be a disappearance in real earnest. Jerry was not to go on the stage with the others for the first part of the magic show. He was to get the long ladder, climb silently to the roof of the lodge porch, and then cautiously crawl through the open window in the far gable of the building——That was it! The window! Why hadn’t he thought of that before? Jake rushed through the bunch of amateur actors dressing in the Chief’s office, and emerged on the lodge porch. A ladder leaned against the building, but even in the dim light he could see that Jerry was not on the ladder.

He was aware of a voice at his elbow. “Looking for something?” It was Sherlock Jones, who had followed him from the lodge.

“Jerry! He’s gone!” Jake blurted. “He must have crawled out the window again, and gone off somewhere. Why didn’t he tell me?”

“Look for clues—that’s the thing to do in a case like this,” advised Sherlock with a business-like air. “He must have climbed down the ladder. Come on.” The two boys ran around to the steps, and presently Sherlock snapped on his flashlight at the base of the ladder.

“No footprints can show up on this rocky ground,” observed the detective. Jake glanced wildly at the surrounding trees and bushes, as if determined to make them give up their secret.

“Jerry!” he shouted desperately. “Jerry!”
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There was no answer. Sherlock flickered his electric torch here and there about the scene of action. “No, sir, not a thing—— Wait, though! What’s this?” He caught the glint of metal about fifty yards in the direction of the tents, and ran toward it.

“This” proved to be a large-size can of tomatoes. A few paces down the hill was a similar can, and another of beans. Sherlock held them up for inspection.

“Clues! Jake, do you know where these came from?”

Jake groaned. It was as he feared. Even now Jerry might be wrestling in the darkness with a deadly foe, or lying senseless in the woods, struck down by a blow from behind——

“Come on!” he cried. “We’ve got to find him! Hurry!”

Above them, from the lighted lodge, streamed out a blare of music from the Lenape band. Pale stars glimmered overhead in the warm summer night.

“Which way?” asked Sherlock calmly.

Jake made no answer, but stumbled down the hillside, making to the left, where he remembered he had lost sight of his antagonist the night of the raid on Tent Fifteen. Then, the man had headed for the lake, and it was probable that under the same conditions he would again do likewise. It was a slim chance, but——

“Jerry!”
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Their footsteps guided by the yellow splash of brightness from the flashlight, the two boys broke through the campus and into the stretch of woods beyond. It seemed to Jake, as he raced through the night, that hours had passed since he was released from the box to find Jerry missing.

“Not much chance—find anybody in these woods,” panted Sherlock, holding his side. “Stop a second, Jake—give me time to get my breath——”

“Wait here, then, if you’re winded,” answered Jake fiercely. “Here, lend me the light, and I’ll come back for you. I tell you, I’ve got to find him!” Before the other could protest, he seized the flash and was on his way toward the lake’s rim at a breakneck speed.

He was now almost to the rustic bridge that cut across the stream through the marsh at the head of the lake. Water shone glassily through the trees at his right hand. A huddled form loomed ahead in the path beyond the bridge, showing ghostly in the pale beam of the lamp.

“Jerry!”

“That you, Jake?” came his brother’s voice.

“Jerry—what’s the matter? Are you all right?”
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“Sure.” Jerry rose and limped toward him. “I heard voices up the hill, and thought it might be you. Who’s with you?”

“I left that Jones kid up there—he got a stitch in his side. But are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“I got off into the marsh, and banged into some birch trees, that’s all. To-night it seems to be my turn to chase around in the dark and bump into things. But I’m sure sorry I spoiled the act.&r............