mill. As he clambered over the wall, something made him glance at the

mill pool a hundred yards away. By it, in the shadow of the mill, stood the mysterious stranger, who had bicycled away half an hour ago towards Thornhurst! His head was still bound up with Danny’s scarf.

Remembering the law of the jungle, Danny “froze.” Squatting perfectly still on the top of the wall he watched, breathlessly. What could the stranger be doing there? Thornhurst was in the opposite direction. He had said he was going there, and on to London.

Looking about him warily the stranger picked up his bicycle and flung it into the dark waters of the pool. Danny heard the splash, and all was still.

Then the man looked about him again, turning his head from side to side, as if to make sure he was not perceived. What was he going to do? Then, alas, he saw Danny! For one moment he stood quite still, gazing up at him, as if in dismay. Then, like a shadow, he vanished behind the crumbling walls of the deserted mill.

For a moment, Danny stood quite still, his eyes and mouth wide open with utter surprise.

Then the detective instinct in him realised that there must be something very “fishy” about a person who threw a good bike into a pond! He also realised that if he was to find out anything about this fishy person there was not a moment to be lost, so he scrambled down off the rickety old wall that he had been scaling, when he got his glimpse of the man, and set off across the yard.

The man had caught sight of Danny, he felt sure, just after flinging the bicycle into the pond. This was why he had vanished so quickly. The pond was hidden from Danny’s view when he got down from the wall. Would this give the stranger a chance to escape?

A moment later Danny was hurrying down the steep bank towards the marshy ground where the pond lay.

When he reached the pool there was no sign of the man. He peered about in the old barns, the rickety sheds, and the broken pig-sty--the man was nowhere. He went up into the mill. He climbed up ladders to the topmost floor. He peered between the great millstones. He leant far out of the windows and looked up and down the road and across the fields. There was no sign of the stranger.

“He must be a jolly good scout to have hidden so quickly,” said Danny to himself. “I wasn’t more than two minutes getting to the pond, but he managed to bunk.”

The only thing to do was to track the man down. Yes, there were the footmarks and a bicycle track in the soft mud of the little path that led down from the road to the marshy ground by the pond. Danny examined them carefully; they were quite fresh. He compared them with the drawing he had made in his pocket-book half an hour before, and they tallied exactly. So this _was_ the same man; there could be no mistake.

With his heart thumping hard, Danny followed up the tracks. They led to the pond in a roundabout way, showing that the man had taken cover behind a hedge, the old barn, and a broken wall. By the side of the pond the wheel tracks stopped. Danny could see the firm, deep marks where the man had stood while picking up the machine and throwing it into the water.

Then the footmarks went off at right angles; four long strides--and they stopped behind the broken wall, where the man seemed to have stood still. Danny searched all round, but the footmarks did not go any further. And yet there was no cover here!

He walked in a circle round the spot at about five yards’ distance, but no tracks were to be seen. Danny the Detective was sorely puzzled. But, returning to the place by the wall where the man had stood, he suddenly saw what he had missed before. The footprints did leave the spot, but they went straight back to the pond-side, treading almost where the first footprints showed!

He followed them up. But at the water’s edge he was as puzzled as he had been at the wall. The footprints did not lead away!

Danny was stumped. There was nothing more to be done. It seemed a mystery with no solution--a riddle with no answer. He determined to put the matter into the hands of wiser people than he.

Squatting on the old wall he wrote in his notebook an account of what had passed. Then he set off homewards. At the Pack Headquarters, he found Fred Codding, his Sixer, ramping on the step.

“You little rotter!” he cried, as soon as he saw Danny. “What did you want to fall out for, and then play about and not come back? All the other chaps have gone back to tea. But when we found that you were not at your house I was told to wait here and report to Mr. Fox if you were not back by 6.30.”

“Awfully sorry, Fred,” said Danny, “but I wasn’t playing about. I was having a wonderful adventure. I----”

“Oh, shut up!” said Fred, impatiently. “We know all about your ‘adventures.’”

“But this is _truth_,” said Danny, in despair. “A most extraordinary thing happened----”

“Dry up!” said Fred.

But Danny was determined to make him listen.

“Look here,” he said, “it’s all very well for you to say, ‘Dry up,’ but what would you say if you saw a chap chuck a good bike into a pond and then make off?”

“I’d say the chap who told me such a yarn was a liar,” said Fred. “I must go and report that you’ve got back,” he added. “You cut along home and stop telling everyone detective stories. Remember you’re a Wolf Cub, and not a kid any more. A Cub is truthful.”

Danny flushed to the roots of his hair. But he had the sense not to answer back, for he knew that if he did he would not be able to resist punching his Sixer’s head--and that would not be loyalty. So he turned and went sadly home.

But the strange thing he had seen was not to be put out of his mind so easily. Something must be done. He decided to go to the Scouts about it that night.

After tea he set out for the Scouts’ Headquarters. There was a meeting on. He banged at the door.

“What d’you want?” said the Second who opened it.

“I want to speak to Patrol-Leader Church,” said Danny. He felt sure his friend would give him a fair hearing.

“He’s away,” said the Scout, “gone to see his uncle at Thornhurst.”

“I’ve got something very important to report,” said Danny.

“Sorry,” said the Scout kindly, “there’s a Court of Honour sitting just now. Come another time.”

But here the Chairman’s voice broke in.

“Bring the kid in,” he called. “Let’s hear the ‘important’ matter!”

Danny entered the brightly lighted room shyly. The eight Leaders and Seconds stared at him. Then one of them, Fred Codding’s big brother, burst into a shout of laughter.

“Hullo!” he cried, “it’s ‘Danny the Detective!’ I hear from my young brother that he’s got a wonderful yarn about a mysterious stranger and a bike and a pond!”

Danny flushed. Then he looked straight at Patrol-Leader Codding.

“Your brother wouldn’t believe me,” he said, “but I’m a Wolf Cub, and I wouldn’t tell a lie for anything. It’s the truth, and that’s what I’ve come about.”

The Patrol-Leaders smiled.

“All right, youngster,” said the Chairman, “sit down. And when we’ve done the job we’re on now, you can make your report.”

Danny sat down, wishing himself a hundred miles away. Presently the Chairman called him up.

“Please give the Court your report about this stranger,” he said solemnly.

Danny forgot his shyness. It seemed to him that he was a chief witness, giving evidence at a court of law. Very clearly he told his story.

The Court deliberated for a few minutes.

“It’s a good yarn, anyway!” said the Chairman, “though I can’t see the chap’s idea in throwing his bike in the pond. Look here, youngster, we’ll take the matter in hand. Kangaroo Patrol shall go with you to-morrow and drag the pond. If they find the bike we will take further steps.”

This was duly recorded in the minutes by the Secretary.

Danny was delighted.

“Thank you very much indeed!” he said, and, saluting, withdrew.

“Smart little chap!” said the Leaders, as they turned once more to the business on hand.