If she had had any doubts about the right and wrong of an attempt to thwart the sheriff before, Laura had none now. Perhaps her course was indefensible; but intuitively she believed that farmer to be a bad man. And she was sure that he was the one who had set the sheriff on this trail.
He had doubtless followed the young man with the gun and seen him join Professor Dimp. The two had paddled for Acorn Island. The farmer had communicated with the sheriff. 194
Right then, so hotly burned Laura’s righteous indignation, that she would have done her very best to keep the officer of the law from landing those bloodhounds, and chasing the mysterious “Mr. Norman” out of his hiding place.
But it was Bobby who put the ball into play first.
“Say, Mister! don’t you bring those dogs ashore here!” she called to the sheriff.
He was a big, red-faced, beefy-looking man, with a bristling mustache and little, piglike eyes.
“I wanter know!” he said, huskily. “Who do you think you are giving orders to, young lady?”
“You are a sheriff, aren’t you?”
“Yes I be,” said the man.
“And you are searching all the woods around about for a convict?”