"He did?" sputtered Dave vengefully. "O Dick, why did you ever let him get away from us?"
"I'm glad I did something to the sneak while I had the chance," declared Greg Holmes.
"First of all, tell me how you fellows came to find me," suggested Dick Prescott.
"Oh, that's easy enough to account for," Dave replied. "Greg and I were on Main Street looking for you. Then we went down to the store. Your mother told us that you'd gone to Mrs. Davis's with a package of books, so we set out to meet you on your return. And right over there, on the street, we came across a little girl, white, scared and half crying. She said she had seen a man grab you up, throw you over the wall——"
"Yes, that happened," nodded Prescott.
"And the little kiddie said she saw the man jump over the wall, grab you up and start for the woods. She was sure the wicked man was going to kill you."
"Dexter was mad enough, but he lacked the sand for going that far, I guess," remarked Prescott.
"He might not be without the sand," argued Dave. "I've got a notion that Dexter, while a coward, perhaps, about some things, would go about as far as his anger drove him. I'm glad we came along, anyway."
"So am I. You fellows sneaked in so quietly in the dark, that I didn't see you until just before you tackled Dexter. Well, there's no great harm done, thanks to you, Dave, and to you, Greg. Let's get back to Main Street."
As the youngsters crossed the field and strolled up the street, Dick gave an accurate account of what had befallen him.