"What do you think of that?" said he. "I guess Skinny ain't the whole thing—on Sundays."
"Does the marshal know?"
"I haven't told a soul except you, Pedro. I am saving it for the Band—I mean the patrol. This is our chance. What's the good of bein' a Scout if you don't do any scoutin'?"
"Anyhow, I think we ought to tell the marshal about this," I said. "Those robbers are not going to wait for the Scouts to get busy. They probably jumped a freight last night and are in New York by this time. But maybe the marshal could do something."
Bill was bound to tell the other Scouts about it first. So after dinner we got the boys together and all went over and took a look at the footprint.
Skinny was even more excited than Bill was.
"We are hot on the trail, fellers," said he. "The thing to do is to surround them. We ought to have captured them yesterday. Bet your life we'll take a rope next time."
But when Pa found us talking it over on our woodpile, and we told him about it, he said for us to go to the marshal's at once, and if we didn't he would.
It being Sunday, we went to the marshal's house and found him sitting on the front porch dressed in his best clothes. He was some surprised when he saw the eight of us walk into his yard. It made us wish that we had uniforms on.
"To what do I owe the honor of this visit?" said he. "Is this a committee of distinguished citizens to ask me to run for mayor or something?"