“Down there!” exclaimed Larry, pointing down a street that ran parallel with the bridge abutments.
The fleeing youth was running at top speed, but he made one mistake. He looked behind to see if anyone was after him, and did not see an ash barrel that stood in his path. He stumbled over this and went down in a heap, covered with cinders. He got up, however, before the policeman was near enough to grab him and started off again.
At that moment, however, from a side street there came a small cart, in charge of an Italian, and bearing a heap of peanuts and a roaster at full steam.
Before the thief could check his flight he had crashed, full tilt, into the Italian’s cart. Right into the midst of the pile of peanuts he went, upsetting the vehicle and landing with it on top of him in the middle of the street.
With a shrill cry the Italian threw himself upon the man he supposed had purposely brought his wares to grief, and thief and peanut vendor were in the midst of a fight when the policeman came rushing up, and grabbed his prisoner. The youth still held the purse, an odd-shaped affair, in his hand.
“I’VE GOT YOU! COME TO THE STATION HOUSE”
From Office Boy to Reporter
“I’ve got you!” exclaimed the officer. “Come to the station house.”