“You can’t prove that we were housebreaking,” said Jim, the idea suddenly dawning upon him.
“I can’t, heh?” snorted the man. “Then why else—”
The sentence was never completed. Something big and heavy that closely resembled a boy in a gray uniform shot down out of the tree, landing with all force upon the shoulders of the caretaker. Under the impact of Don’s body the man fell forward, losing his hold on the shoulders of Jim and Terry. Don went down too, but was up like a shot.
“Beat it as fast as you can!” he cried, seeing that Jim had the box in his hand.
“The overcoats!” cried Jim, as Terry darted forward.
“Got ’em,” the boy shouted. “Let’s go!”
A roar burst from the man as he scrambled to his feet, slightly dazed by the force and suddenness of the encounter. At the same time the side door of the house opened and the butler appeared. But by this time the three cadets were running like frightened deer over the lawn in the direction of the street.
“There they go!” shouted the caretaker. “Stop them!”
He began to run in their direction, but he was no match for the fleet cadets. By the time he reached the street the cadets were turning the corner a block away and were soon lost to sight. Back at the house Arthur Gates snorted with rage.
“Wait until I get dressed, Arthur,” commanded the senior Gates. “Order the car out at once.”