"Yes, it did," admitted Tom, "and I couldn't say anything, for certain reasons. But they no longer exist."
"I don't exactly understand it all," said the still-puzzled farmer, "but it's all right, an' I begs yer pardon, Tom Fairfield, an' here's my hand!" and he held out a big palm.
"That's all right," said Tom easily, as he shook hands. "I'll explain everything soon."
"And I'll do my share," added Ray. "I haven't acted just as I should in this matter. But I'm on a different road now."
"I hope so," put in Mrs. Appleby, who had been a silent spectator of the happenings. "I allers said you had a good streak in you somewhere, Ray Blake, and if you had a mother———"
"Please don't speak of her," the boy asked gently.
"Have you a telephone?" asked Tom, anxious to change the subject, for he saw that Ray was much affected. "If you have, we can 'phone for the authorities to call for our friend here," and he nodded at the tramp who, bound, sat in sullen silence.
"No, we don't have such luxuries," answered the farmer, "but I'll send one of my hired men into town. We can lock Jake up in the smoke house 'till the constable gets here."
This was done, Jake Crouse submitting sullenly. Then, when the hired man had driven off in the rain, the farmer and his wife insisted on providing dry garments for Ray and Tom, and in making them hot coffee.
In two hours the constable arrived, and only just in time, for the tramp had nearly forced open the smoke house door, and would soon have escaped. He was handcuffed, and driven to the town lockup.