“I will,” returned the stout individual. He was angry at Bidwell for the rough treatment he had received.
A policeman was not far away, and the man hurried off to get his assistance.
Bidwell tried to wrench himself loose. But Bob’s grip was a good one, and he held on like grim death.
“What’s the row here?” demanded the policeman, as he hurried up, followed by the stout man.
“I want this boy arrested,” said Bidwell, hurriedly. “He has just escaped from the asylum.”
“Crazy, eh?”
“As crazy as a bedbug. He’s been following me around for over an hour.”
“That’s not so,” put in Bob. “This man is a sneak-thief, and——”
“He’s crazy on the subject of thieves,” said Bidwell. “He was once scared by a midnight burglar, and it affected his brain. He belongs up at the Cloverdale Asylum.”
“Well, what were you running for?” asked the stout man, suspiciously.