At this moment Abel Wood, who had been sweeping the piazza, entered the store in excitement.
“I say, there’s the tramp now,” he exclaimed.
“Where? Where?” asked one and another.
“Out in the street. Constable Perkins has got him.”
“Call him in,” said the minister.
A moment later, Constable Perkins came in, escorting the tramp, who was evidently under the influence of strong potations, and had difficulty in holding himself up.
“Where am I?” hiccoughed Ramsay.
“Where did you find him, Mr. Perkins?” asked Rev. Mr. Morris.
“Just outside of Farmer Dexter’s barn. He was lying on the ground, with a jug of whisky at his side.”
“It was my jug,” said Silas. “He must have taken it from the store. I didn’t miss it before. He must have took it away with him.”