“You can’t do it, Mirandy, unless you got some reason for making the charge, and you didn’t see the boy,” returned one of the men.
“But Pud Snooks seen him. He can swear out a warrant!” exclaimed the spinster. “It ought to be done. There won’t be nobody safe in the village with that boy liable to burn us all up at any time.”
The words caused alarm among several of the women, who gathered about the old gossip, and they began to demand that action be taken; but when some of the men finally started to look for the bully who had spread the wicked report, he was nowhere to be seen.
The gossips, however, interpreted Snooks’ absence to their own ends.
“Some of the men have probably taken him up to Squire Baxter’s,” said Miranda, and others who had heard her words instantly gave the irresponsible old spinster’s remark the stamp of authority, declaring that Harry’s arrest was but the question of a few minutes.
In the meanwhile, the fire having burnt itself out on Jed Brown’s house, and the danger to the neighboring mansions being thereby over, the members of the bucket brigade made their way once more to the scene of the conflagration.
With Mr. Martin on one side, and his son Paul on the other, Harry approached the ruin.
“There he comes! There he comes! Luther Martin has the little sneak! He knows what to do with him!” snapped Miranda.
And in whispers, low but none the less audible, the word quickly ran around the circle of gossips that the village Nestor was holding the youthful fire-bug until the proper authorities could take him into custody. So curious were the glances cast at them by the rest of the people, that Mr. Martin could not help but notice them, and, wondering at their cause, he turned to the man nearest him, calling him by name, and asked:
“What is the matter, Zeke? Why is everybody whispering and looking at me?”