Then Hoof and the peepers across the way saw Mr. Crossleigh throw an arm around his wife's waist and draw her into the house, closing the door.
"Say, who said they were cranks?" demanded Greg Holmes, when the abashed Hallowe'eners had gathered a little way down the street. "Why, those folks would have been only too glad to take the little shaver in and——"
"Adopt it," supplied Dan Dalzell.
Truth to tell, Dick and all the Grammar School boys had seen the beginning of a scene that made their joke look small.
"If I ever catch any fellow trying to sneak the Crossleigh's gate," warned Dave loftily, "I'll give that fellow all that's coming his way!"
"They're the right sort of people," confessed Dick. "Fellows, we've all got to make it our business to see that the Crossleighs are never bothered again by fellows out for larks. Say, they showed us that playing a joke with a baby is only a clownish trick, didn't they?"
"I'm going home," announced Hoof. "This little shaver has been out long enough. It's time he was in his crib."
To this no objection was offered. As Wrecker Lane was near his home he ran off with the basket, which he tossed into the yard, after which he overtook his companions.
"What are we going to do, now?" Ben Alvord wanted to know.
"Let's prowl around and see what other Hallowe'eners are doing," proposed Dick.