“We ain't touched a thing!” cried a small boy, and began to back away in alarm. At once several followed him.
“Here's a barrel of water knocked over and everything in a mess. You've been skylarking, too. I'm going to have you locked up!”
The watchman made a dash after the boys and the crowd scattered in all directions. Sagger received a crack on the shoulder that lamed him for a week, and Sammel tripped and went down, taking the skin off of the end of his nose.
“Oh, me nose!” he moaned. “It's busted entirely!”
“Run!” cried Sagger. “If you don't you'll be nabbed sure!” And then the crowd ran with all their speed, scrambling out of the hole as best they could. They did not stop until they were half a dozen blocks away and on their way home.
“We made a fizzle of it dat trip,” said Sagger, dolefully.
“It's all your fault,” growled one of the boys. “I ain't goin' out wid you again. You promise big things but you never do 'em.”
“Oh, Jack 's a gas-bag, dat's wot he is,” was the comment of another, and he walked off by himself. Presently one after another of the boys followed suit, leaving Jack Sagger to sneak home, a sadder if not a wiser lad.