"Won’t that be jolly?" chirped Ted. "I just love to be arrested. I enjoy it. It’s such fun being taken to jail, and all that."
"Don’t be a fool!" snarled Cranch. "I am in earnest."
"Oh, well, we’re in fun," said Smart. "We don’t mean to keep you here till after the football-game Saturday—oh, no! We’re going to set you free, and let you run right back and carry all you know to your friends."
"You’d better set me free! I know you all."
"That’s fine! We’re proud to know you, you’re such a splendid fellow. Now, I’m going to watch you, while my friends here get some lovely, refined gentlemen to take charge of you for the rest of the present week. I won’t hurt you if you try to break away and raise a rumpus. I won’t hit you real hard with this soft club. I’ll just let you break away and do as you please."
This was Ted’s way of telling what he would do, and Cranch understood.
The captive had been tied to a beam in the wall of the old room, his hands still fastened behind him. An old lamp sat on a shelf. In that room, which had once been used by the miller as a dining-room, there was a table and some broken chairs.
With some words of caution to Smart, the others left him there to guard the captive. When they were gone Cranch tried to bribe Ted, but found all his efforts vain.
Near morning two rough-looking fellows appeared and told Ted they would take charge of the prisoner.
"Be kind to him, gentlemen," urged Smart. "It’s quite likely he has only one mother. I love him tenderly."