"What's going on here?" asked Deputy Valden, putting in a more leisurely appearance.
"Something right in your line," Dick answered. "Dave and Greg are holding down Tag Mosher."
"You're not fooling, are you?" demanded the deputy. "You're not making any mistake, either?"
"We know Tag Mosher when we see him," Darry retorted. "We've good enough reason for knowing him."
With his uninjured left hand Deputy Valden reached for his pair of handcuffs, passing them to Dave.
"Here you are, Darrin," said the officer. "You know how to put these things on, don't you?"
"I can figure the job out, sir," Dave made reply.
Tag submitted, wearily, to having the steel bracelets snapped over his wrists. Then he heaved a sigh that had something of a sob in it.
"I let you put these on, but I wish you'd take them off again," he said, addressing Valden. "I know I'm bad, and I know I'm tough, but I never had these things on my hands before. Take 'em off, won't you? Please!"
Such submission was tame, indeed. Deputy Valden, who had never seen young Mosher before glanced sharply at young Prescott.