But when they came up they found the passage on both sides was so thick with big Canadian thistles, as to daunt even the bravest barefooted person, particularly if he had not been used to going without his shoes. They gingerly tried the passage on either side but had to turn back. The pursuers gave a shout and came on faster than before.
“Over the hay!” sung out Ned.
He made a running jump to scramble up the small hill of dried grass. The others followed. From the other side there suddenly appeared the farmer who owned it. He had been trying to fix his wagon. He saw the boys attempting to climb over the load, and noted the crowd in pursuit.
“No, you don’t!” he yelled, making a grab for Fenn and Bart, who were in the rear. He seized them by their loose clothing. As the two boys felt themselves being pulled back they instinctively grabbed at Ned and Frank. All four fell in a heap on the highway at the bottom of the hay pile. An instant later the crowd was upon them and the boys were grabbed by half a dozen hands.
“We’ve got ’em!” exclaimed one gray-bearded man, with a big tin star on his coat. “We’ll git th’ reward. Great luck!”
“What right have you got to chase us?” demanded Bart.
“Best right in the world,” replied the constable.
“What have we done?” asked Frank.
“Broke jail, that’s what ye done.”