“Tom Hicksley.”
The answers came from as many different lips, and the readiness with which they were accepted was not at all flattering to the boys who bore the names.
“It may have been one of those three or all three together,” said Bobby, coming nearer to the mark than he knew.
“That reminds me,” cried Fred suddenly. “Tom Hicksley was practicing on the flying rings when we were talking this thing over in the gymnasium this morning.”
“That’s so,” chimed in Mouser. “And I remember now that he seemed to stop all of a sudden and slip away. I didn’t think anything about it then, but I remember it plainly now.”
“He owes some of us a grudge for what happened on the train,” remarked Pee Wee.
“And he said then he’d get even with us,” observed Fred.
“There’s one thing we fellows have forgotten,” said Skeets. “Whoever did this would want to be hiding around and see what happened. We ought to hunt them out and pay them up.”
This seemed likely enough and the boys looked eagerly about them.
“Doesn’t seem to be any place up here where they could hide without our seeing them,” remarked Mouser.