“I didn’t lose any time,” the representative of the law continued. “I drove over from Peterstown this morning. By judicious inquiries I learned you and two other boys had come over here. I followed. The law knows no delays. Are you ready to come?”
“I have my motor cycle with me,” said Ned. “Can I go on that?”
“If I let you ride your machine will you promise to go slow, and not try to escape? I’ll drive along in my carriage.”
“I’ll promise,” said Ned, the deep flush not having left his face.
“Then we’ll consider that arranged. Come on.”
Slowly, and in depressed spirits, greatly in contrast to the gaiety with which they had arrived, the three boys trundled their machines, the wires of which had been quickly repaired, to the road. The sheriff untied his horse, got in the carriage, and cautioning Ned to run his machine at reduced speed, followed the boys who felt very little inclined for talk. They were so worried that they left their fish behind.
Eventually Cresville was reached. Ned, much as he was humiliated by his technical arrest, knew he could easily prove his innocence. But he felt that the mystery of the mill robbery was deepening.
“I’ll go right to your house with you,” said the sheriff to Ned. “We will have a talk with your father, and I have no doubt we can come to some understanding.”
Mr. Slade was surprised, incensed and puzzled by turns when the fussy little sheriff in charge of Ned called on him. The arm and majesty of the law soon explained what had taken place.
“This Mr. Berry is sure he saw your son at the mill,” repeated the sheriff.