"You won't name us, either, will you?"
"No, sirree!"
So the light-smashers felt more comfortable. By the day following they breathed easily—until they reached school.
The boys were in the yard, playing until the gong rang for morning session. A buggy drove up, and Detective Briscoe and two policemen in plain clothes got out.
"Trouble!" was the word whispered. Ben Alvord and his fellows turned pale. But the gong rang. Glad of any chance to bolt, Ben, Spoff, Ned, Toby and Wrecker fled to the basement to get into line.
Briscoe and the two policemen appeared in Old Dut's room. The detective drew some papers from his pocket, inquiring:
"You have boys here by the names of Allen, Alvord, Ross, Lane and Henderson, haven't you?"
"Yes," nodded Old Dut.
"Ask them to step forward, please."
Pallid and shaking a bit, the five came forward.