“Yes, after we—we came to your camp,” faltered Sully.
“And played ghost and took our traps, eh?” said Jack, a little bitterly.
“Yes; but Bascoe, I hope you—you’ll forgive us,” faltered Sully.
“It was awful mean to do, and now you are treating us so good—better than we deserve,” put in Spencer, in a choking tone.
“It got us into a lot of trouble,” remarked Harry. “We came near being arrested for the chickens you stole.”
“We didn’t steal any chickens,” cried Dixon.
“You didn’t! Well, those farmers thought so. That’s the reason they took your traps.”
“We bought those chickens from some men on the road,” said Spencer. “But we only paid fifteen cents apiece for them, and after the men were gone we came to the conclusion that the fowls must have been stolen, and we were sure of it when those farmers took our things.”
“Then why did you run away—why didn’t you come out boldly and explain matters?”
“We knew it would do no good, for the evidence was all against us, as we had been hunting near one of the farmer’s places, and he had seen us. Besides, we didn’t want to meet you fellows after we had taken your traps.”