“Besides,” continued Slicker, “I know a better stunt than that. We’ll take it up to Barriscale’s, an’ fasten it on the gate-post.”
“Gee!” exclaimed Little Dusty. “My dad works at Barriscale’s, and if Mr. Barriscale found out I had a hand in it, Pop might get fired.”
“Well,” replied Slicker, “nobody’s goin’ to know who had a hand in it. We ain’t goin’ to hire no brass band an’ go around shoutin’ what we done. Are we, Hal?”
“No,” said Hal soberly. “This is secret business. No boy’s got a right to tell on anybody but himself, not even if they skin him alive. I won’t.”
“Nor I,” “Nor I.” The response was unanimous and whole-hearted.
“I don’t know about this Barriscale business, though,” added Hal. “If Mr. Barriscale should get mad about it, he’d scour the city to find out who did it, and then he’d have us all put in jail. Young Ben isn’t any easy proposition to butt up against, either.”
“Oh, you’re chicken-hearted!” exclaimed Slicker. “It’s no fun to swipe things if you don’t put ’em where folks don’t like it. I say hang the puppy sign on the king’s gate-post an’ let the consekences take care o’ theirselves. Am I right?”
“Right you are!” responded one member of the group after another. But Hal said: “Well, whatever you fellows say, goes. I’m game if you are. Where’s your sign? Let me have it!”
He took the oblong board and concealed it under the capacious folds of his rain-coat. “Now,” he added, “come on!”
So they started, heading again toward the main street of the city. Two blocks up that street they once more passed the loitering policeman on duty. If he had any suspicion that the outer garment of the leader of the group hid contraband property from his sight he did not mention it. But when they were well by he turned and called to them.