“I couldn’t catch them at all, at all,” reported the little thin sub-officer, McStoppem, at headquarters.
“Bring my motorcycle, McStoppem,” ordered Chief Arrestem.
“All right, sir,” nodded Officer McStoppem, bringing out the wonderful little toy. “If you take the cross-cut road toward Sandpile Village, you’ll catch them. The number is—here it is, I wrote it down—1492. You can easily remember it—the year Columbus made ‘preparedness’ necessary.”
“Cut out your chatter, McStoppem, and follow me in a hurry,” directed the chief, as he kicked the pedal of the motorcycle to start the engine. “Hand me the paper,” and, snatching it, was off.
“The chief’ll get ’em O.K.,” muttered Officer McStoppem to himself, as he watched the long line of dust and smoke in the wake of the little motorcycle.
··········
Just as Chief Arrestem came into the cross-roads leading to Sandpile Village, the runaway automobile flew past.
“By Jiminy, I don’t wonder McStoppem couldn’t catch them,” he said under his breath, as he put on still more speed. “That man’s lost control of his car, and unless I’m mistaken there’ll be an accident when he comes to that dangerous turn in the road where that big rocking chair stands.”
