“Vanceborough! Vanceborough!” cried the brakeman on the accommodation train that was rattling into the little village on the west bank of the St. Croix.

Beyond the river lay New Brunswick. Vanceborough was the last town on the American side.

As the train drew up at the station, Frank Merriwell, an alligator skin grip in his hand, swung down from the steps.

He was quite alone, and he looked dusty and tired, but there was a determined expression on his face.

“Is there a telegraph office in the station?” he asked, speaking to a small boy who was looking at him curiously.

“Sure,” answered the urchin, promptly. “Feller that looks after it’s seein’ to the freight now, though. He’ll go in soon’s the train leaves.”

“Where is he?”

“Right over there.”

The boy pointed out the operator, and Frank gave him a quarter. The urchin stared at the piece of silver with bulging eyes, forgetting, in his astonishment, to even say thank you.

“Crickey!” he finally gasped. “That chap must have money to throw at ther birds!”

[109]

Then he scudded away to spend the quarter at the nearest store.

As soon as the operator went into the office, Frank sent this message to Brownville, Me.:

“Mr. Bruce Browning: Traced Dugan to Vanceborough. Shall try to recover rifle. Party come on to Mattawamkeag, and wait for me there.

“Frank Merriwell.

Then he inquired the way to the hotel.

Frank was tired. By sharp detective work, he had discovered that Dugan had hired a team at Henderson, the nearest town to Brownville, the very night the rifle was stolen, and was driven to Lake View. The following morning Frank learned that the thief belonged over around Grand Lake, on the New Brunswick line. Then it came about that Merry had traced his man to Vanceborough. Advices received by him at Mattawamkeag from an officer in Vanceborough stated that Enos had arrived there and left for parts unknown on the lake steamer.

At the hotel Merry registered and asked when dinner would be ready. Finding he had almost an hour to wait, he inquired for the officer from whom he had obtained information concerning Dugan.

In a little while the officer appeared at the hotel, accompanied by the boy who had been sent for him.

A brief talk with this man convinced Frank that Dugan had his rifle beyond doubt, although the thief was carrying it wrapped in a blanket.

[110]

“Dugan lives up around Forest City somewhere,” said the officer. “He is a rough fellow, and has a bad reputation. Although nothing has ever been proved against him, it is said he is a smuggler. I don’t know that anyone around here is sure just where he does live, but I’ve heard he has a handsome daughter who is often seen in Forest City.”

“Which is the best way to get to Forest City?” asked Frank.

“There are but two ways. You can take a train back to Forest Station, and hire a team there to carry you up onto the Peninsula; or you can take the lake steamer here, which will carry you straight there.”

“How far is it from Forest Station to Forest City?”

“About seventeen miles over the roughest road you ever struck.”

“Then you think I had better go by boat?”

“Yep; that’s the best way.”

“When does the boat leave?”

“Noon to-morrow, if she gets in on time to-night.”

“Great Scott! I don’t want to waste all that time.”

“You look as if you needed it to get rested in; but, if you’ll take my advice, you won’t follow Enos Dugan up into that section.”

“Why not?”

“The chances are about five to one that you’ll never be heard from again if you do. You’ll disappear.”

“What?” cried Frank. “Has Dugan such a reputation as that? Why, I should think he’d be taken care of by the officers.”

[111]

“It’s never been possible to prove anything against him. One or two government officers, looking for smugglers, have vanished very mysteriously after going up the lake. It is thought that Dugan knows something of what happened to them, but nobody can tell. They’re afraid of him up there, and nobody dares say anything against him. If they know anything, they keep still. Every little while he goes off somewhere, and it’s said he disposes of the stuff that has been smuggled over the line. He’s just returned from one of those trips.”

“Well, Mr. Dugan is turning out to be a far more interesting individual than I imagined he could be when I first saw him,” declared Merry.

“Oh, he’s interesting enough, but he’s dangerous. You’ll be spotted as soon as you go up there. If you take my advice, you’ll let that rifle go.”

“What’s that? Not try to recover my rifle?”

“Better lose a rifle than lose your life.”

“I vowed I’d recover that rifle at any cost when I found it was stolen. I shall not be scared out of making a determined attempt to keep that vow.”

“Well, I’m speaking for your good, young man. Dugan is connected with a gang. It’ll not be a case of coping with one man; there will be five or six against you.”

“The more the merrier,” said Frank, grimly, without the least swagger or air of bravado. “I will have that rifle!”

“All right. I’ve warned you, that’s all I can do.”

“I’d like to hire you to go along with me.”

[112]

Instantly the man shook his head.

“Can’t,” he shortly declared.

“Why not? Your authority will permit you if Forest City is in this county.”

“Oh, Forest City is in Washington all right; but it’s close to the line, and no trouble for a man to get over into Aroostook or to jump into New Brunswick. If you get back that rifle, you’ll have to do it on your own hook.”

It was plain that the officer did not care to take any part in the pursuit of Dugan. He showed that he, like others, feared the man with the bad reputation.

“All right,” said Merriwell, stiffly. “I’ll get the rifle, and I’ll do it alone. How far does the steamer run?”

“To the head of the lake.”

“What other............