Seeing to it that Matt was safe in Marvelling’s custody, the constable sprang down from the bridge to the rocks below. A second later he disappeared under the bridge.
The two above heard him rummaging around in the loose stones and among the brush for all of five minutes. Both listened for some call from him, the store-keeper all the while keeping a tight hold on Matt’s arm.
“Well, have you found anything?” cried the store-keeper at last, unable longer to stand the suspense.
“I have,” returned Jackson, and a second later he appeared again, holding in his hand a carving-knife and two spoons.
“Found these under the bridge,” he explained, as he clambered up upon the structure again. “They are your goods, I take it.”
“Of course they are my goods!” cried Isaac Marvelling, as he glanced at the articles. “Is that all?” he went on disappointedly.
“That’s all I could find. There may be more there or in the water.”
“This young rascal threw them there!” cried the store-keeper, shaking Matt’s arm savagely. “You imp! tell me where the other things are at once, or I’ll skin you alive!”
“Look here, Mr. Marvelling; I want you to let go of me and be reasonable,” returned Matt, as calmly as he could. “I am not a thief. If I was, would I tell the story I did, or send down your companion to find those things? My story about that object under the bridge is true, and, to my way of thinking, it was the thief you saw jump the fence and run in this direction. When I sprang down to bathe my face and hands he got scared and ran out on the other side of the bridge, and in his hurry he must have dropped the things which have been found.”