"Beats anything I ever heard, I swan if it don't! And they tell me that you captained them boys as played the Clifford football team to a stand this mornin'. I don't wonder at it; they ain't much as could stand up before such pluck! And so you went souse into the creek? Ugh! it must a been a cold bath, Frank. Go on," he exclaimed, enthusiastically.
"Oh! that's about all. I crawled out below, and when they came down to hunt for me, because I'd fixed it so the machine couldn't be run, I just crawled up the bank, jumped aboard, and was off. Jim banged away after me a few times, but he was hurt so he had to use his left hand, and I knew he couldn't hit a barn. That's all. Here comes my coffee; I only hope I don't take cold."
The elated sheriff watched the youth gulp down the hot drink, admiration in his eyes.
"I'll see to it that you have a big fur coat the rest of the way. And I'm goin' along with you, boy, to be in at the finish. This is too good to lose. Ain't had so much excitement in six months. Jim and Bart is loose on the community. I'll just have word sent around so they kin be pulled in if they try to get aboard any train."
Ten minutes later and Frank again jumped into the captured car. He was now warmly clad in a heavy automobile coat that would defy the bracing air as they headed for Columbia, just seven miles distant.
"We'll make it in a quarter of an hour, easy," he remarked, as the sheriff took a seat beside him.
"I reckon we oughter, Frank. I'd sure like to be in your shoes for this. They'll think more of you in Columbia than ever, I reckon," remarked the officer, as they made a flying start, amid a few cheers from the gathered crowd.
"Did you telegraph along the line about those men?" asked Frank, desirous of seeing justice meted out to Jim and his companion.
"I did, and told the operator at Fayette to pass the good word along everywhere. There's some reward out for the apprehension of them fellows, and its enough to make every chief of police keep busy in hopes of corralin' the same. Now tell me what them men looked like. That job of cuttin' the wires was a cute one. I reckon that Bart he's been servin' his time as a telegraph wireman, and knows all the dodges."
Frank could not decline, although he would have much preferred keeping silent as he drove the big car onward. The sheriff had been so kind to him that he felt as though he could not refuse to aid him in any way possible. So he described both men as nearly as he could, considering what few glimpses he had had of their faces.