“There was just a chance to nab him—that’s why I didn’t yell out and get the whole camp on his trail. He might have got clean away by that time. Besides, we didn’t want to miss the reward, did we?” Jerry rubbed his bruised arm, which had suffered when his untimely fall had put an end to the chase.
“You’re sure he was the man?”
“Couldn’t have been anyone else, Jakie. But he spotted me when I was coming down the ladder, and dropped his stuff and ran. I followed him down about to here, and then I slipped on some muddy rocks and lost him. But we know where to find him if we want him, don’t we?”
“Shh!” Jake said warningly. “Here comes Dopey Sherlock. Don’t say a word—he’s suspicious enough already.”
The doughty detective had at last found his breath, and came stumbling toward them.
“So you found him, did you?” he asked. “What was he doing down here?”
“Just taking a walk, Sherlock old boy,” said Jerry easily. “Anything else you’d like to know?”
“Yes—a whole lot. Did you drop some cans of tomatoes and stuff?”
“Oh, they were just part of the show. If you’d been at the rehearsal this afternoon, instead of moping around by yourself, you’d know all about these things. Now, which would you rather do;”—Jake’s tone was threatening—“shut up, or get a sock on that long nose of yours?”
Sherlock glanced timidly about him, and retreated a few steps. He knew that he was no match for the two Utway twins; and here in the darkness, far from the campers and protecting leaders, it would be unwise to arouse their ire.