The boys thanked the officer and climbed out of the pung.
“Somebody’s been toting a powerful lot of whiskey from Jackman down to Skowhegan,” the officer whispered to Bob, “and we’re pretty sure that Sandy has had a big hand in it. It’s stuff that’s brought across the border and, of course, there’s a tremendous profit in it. I don’t suppose that he’s got any on board now, as he’s going the wrong way; and I told Jim, back there, that it was foolish to stop him coming this way, but the poor boob couldn’t see it and insisted on doing it, so we might as well have a look.”
The look was very thorough but, as the officer expected, nothing of a contraband nature was found.
“Sure an’ it’s meself as told yer that I didn’t have nothin’,” Sandy declared, as soon as the search was finished.
“I know you did, Sandy,” the officer said, “but we have almost certain knowledge that you’ve been running whiskey and I want to tell you now that if you keep it up we’ll get you and it’ll be the jug for yours. Better cut it out.”
Sandy made no reply and the officers drove off in their light cutter and the boys took their places once more in the pung.
“How far are we from Jackman?” Bob asked, as he glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly ten o’clock.
“Only ’bout four miles,” the driver replied, as he cracked his long lash over the heads of the horses.
It was evident from his tone that the man was mad and they asked no more questions and Sandy did not speak again except to shout to the horses. A little less than an hour later they drew up in front of the hotel where they were to spend the night.
The boys paid Sandy for the trip, and, in less than a half hour, were sound asleep.