Suddenly the sheriff in the tree set up a bellow: “That’s the feller I want! That’s him! Don’t you let him escape––”
“Why don’t you come down and take him?” demanded Bobby, wickedly. 209
But immediately the Barnacle began leaping under the tree and barking and Sheriff Larkin climbed higher.
“You see, the police want me,” explained the young man, simply.
“We—we should judge so,” gasped Mrs. Morse.
“But I really don’t want to be arrested. Especially by this sheriff. I do not want the bank I work for to be put to the expense of paying him a reward for my apprehension.”
This sounded rather odd—from a criminal!
“You see,” went on the young man, with a more cheerful smile, “I am going to return to Albany when my attorney lets me know that I may safely do so. Had I remained when I was first charged with the crime of forging names to coupons and bonds, and selling the same for my own benefit, I could not have disproved the accusation.”
“It had been arranged to make me a ‘scapegoat’—to railroad me to jail, in fact. But I have one good friend, at least—my uncle, Professor Dimp. You all doubtless know him, and know what a really fine old fellow he is,” said the young man, heartily.
“He is paying my lawyer’s expenses, and he insisted, too, upon coming up here into the 210 Big Woods and staying with me. That’s why I was really obliged to rob your larder one night. I dared not appear at any store to buy food, and I could not let the dear old man go hungry. I hope the money I left was sufficient to pay for the food?”