Andy put ahead at renewed speed. At a second turn in the highway a man was raking up hay, and he suspended his work and stared at the fugitive and his pursuers, as Talbot roared out:
“Stop him, Jones—he’s a runaway and a thief!”
Farmer Jones was not spry enough to shorten the circuit Andy made, but he thrust out the rake to its full length. Andy’s foot caught in its tines, dragged, tripped, and the boy went flat to the ground.
“I’ve got him!” hailed Jones, promptly pouncing down upon him.
“Hold him!” panted Talbot, rushing to the spot, and his hard, knotty fingers got an iron clutch on Andy’s coat collar and jerked him to his feet.
“What’s the trouble, neighbor?” projected the farmer curiously.
“A thief isn’t the matter!” shot out Andy hotly, recalling the words of his employer.
“You’ll have to prove that,” blustered Talbot. “If you’re innocent, what are you running for?”
“I was running away from you,” admitted Andy boldly, “because I want to be honest and decent.”
“What’s that?” roared the irate Talbot. “Do you hear him, Jones? He admits he was going to break his contract with me. Well, the law will look to that, you ungrateful young cub!”