"We're going to string you up in just about two minutes at the outside," was the reply; "so if you have anything to say you'd better hurry."
CHAPTER IX.
A CLOSE CALL.
"You are going to murder me?" the boy cried.
"Well, we don't put it just that way," was the cool reply of the man who had spoken before.
"How do you put it, then?"
"We are going to execute you. In cases like yours the law is a little too slow for us, so we have constituted ourselves judge, jury, executioners and all the rest of it. Young fellow, you've stolen your last horse."
The truth flashed upon Al.
For several weeks residents of the neighborhood of Boomville—principally farmers—had been the victims of a clever horse thief, who had, since he began operations, stolen a number of valuable animals. The authorities seemed to be powerless in the matter, although they professed to be using every possible means to bring the thief to justice. Only one clew had been gained; one of the stolen horses had been sold to a farmer in a village about fifty miles distant by a youth of about sixteen, who had given a plausible reason to the simple-minded purchaser for having the animal in his possession. The farmer had been able to give a quite minute description of the boy. Al had read that description, and now remembered, with a sinking of the heart, that it would apply to him fully as well as to the thief for whom he was taken.
"See here," he exclaimed, impetuously, "you are making a terrible mistake! I am not the person you think me to be."