George knew what his friends meant by these remarks; but he made no reply to them. He pulled steadily for the shore, and, when the boat had almost reached it, Bob leaned forward and said, in an earnest whisper:
“You do the talking, Dick, and I will keep a close watch of Benson. Judging by what I heard last night, and what George told us regarding the way he acted down there at the spring, he is very timid and will be very likely to betray himself while Mr. Newton is questioning us.”
Just then the voice of Mr. Stebbins, who had been gesticulating wildly ever since the boat and its occupants came into view around the point, reached their ears.
“I tell you, Newton, them’s the very fellers who tried to rob me last night,” he asserted. “They broke open the winder in my wood-shed, shot their guns at the house, an’ then had the imperdence to go into my barn an’ go to sleep in the hay; an’ there’s where I found ’em this morning.”
At this moment the bottom of the boat grated on the sand, and Mr. Newton took the painter that Dick tossed to him, and drew the bow up on the beach.
The officer seemed to be highly amused; Uncle Ruben looked triumphant; Mr. Stebbins was furious; Wallace and Forbes tried to appear indifferent; Benson’s face was as white as a sheet; and the countenances of the others expressed nothing but interest and curiosity.
Mr. Newton, who was experienced in his calling, and had gained something more than a local reputation as a thief-taker, knew very well that Mr. Stebbins had put him on the wrong trail; but he could not make the old man think so.
As the boys sprang out of the boat, he shook them all warmly by the hand—a proceeding on his part that increased the ire of Mr. Stebbins, who called out:
“Don’t tech ’em, Newton. Two on ’em is thieves, an’ George Edwards ain’t no better, ’cause he harbors ’em!”
“What do you say to that, boys!” inquired the officer, good-naturedly.