“No,” Allan answered, “but I think I hurt them a little.”
Pete’s upper lip was swollen until he presented a comical appearance. Dobbs saw this, and a twinkle came into his eyes. “You young highwayman!” he growled at Pete.
“I was only foolin’,” whined Pete.
“Well,” demanded the deep baritone voice of the Sergeant, behind the desk.
“I wish you’d let them go,” protested Allan. Dobbs was picking up the camera.
“What!” growled Dobbs, with something in his voice that made Allan understand that he didn’t mean it; “let these bandits go?”
“We didn’t know whose it was,” whimpered the smallest boy.
“Of course,” snorted Dobbs again, “you were looking for the owner, weren’t you, like a good little boy?” “No complaint?” asked the Sergeant, in a dry tone.
“Now, Sergeant,” said Dobbs, holding up the camera and blinking into the finder, “please look pleasant; it may hurt your face to do it, but look sweet for just a moment.”
“What about this, Steve?” demanded the Sergeant, turning to the policeman.