He said something of this to his chums, but they laughed at him.
“Stop your grouching,” said Bob. “Haven’t we already agreed that there’s no use crying over spilled milk? And, anyway, you just watch out. We’ll get Cassey yet.”
As soon as the boys reached town they went straight to the police station and told the story of their encounter with Cassey to the grizzled old chief, who nodded his head grimly and thanked them for the information.
“I’ll send some men out right away,” he told them. “If there’s a criminal in those woods, they’re sure to get him before dark. It’s too bad you lads couldn’t have got him yourselves. It would sure have been a feather in your caps!”
“Why doesn’t he rub it in?” grumbled Joe, as they turned at last toward home and dinner. “He ought to know we feel mad enough about it.”
“Well,” said Bob, “if the police round him up, because of our information, it will be almost as good as though we’d caught him ourselves. I wouldn’t,” he added, with a glint in his eye, “exactly like to be in Cassey’s shoes, now.”