“I can’t see what all’s so funny,” he said reprovingly, at which all the girls got suddenly red in the face and had to turn away for a minute to gain control of their emotions. The red-faced old farmer gazed suspiciously at their backs, then turned to Will.
“What you doin’ settin’ there?” he asked, at which Will grinned broadly.
“It’s the most comfortable seat I’ve had in a long time,” he said, rising and dusting off his hands. “Ever since this rascal here relieved me of my watch and my friend of his money, I’ve dreamed of sitting on his neck in just this way.”
“Look out,” cried Betty suddenly. She had recovered her composure and from the tail of her eye had noticed that Frank’s victim was coming to. “He’s going to get away.”
“Nothing like that!” cried Frank, as with one lunge he sank his hand in the tramp’s collar. “After me spoiling a good set of knuckles on his jaw?”
And then the farmers, who up to this time had been too much amazed to do anything, explained that they also were after the tramps. They had been missing all sorts of poultry and fruit for a long time past but had not been able to figure out who had done the damage.
However, on the night before, Samuel Jones—he of the red face and self-appointed leadership—had caught a couple of the rascals in the very act of stealing two of his best hens and had made after them.
In vain did he bestir his pudgy legs in an entirely unaccustomed spurt of speed—the thieves had been too quick for him. However, before they had disappeared he had recognized them as a couple of ill-favored scamps who had been seen loitering around the countryside.
“And so,” he finished, his chin whiskers quivering still more violently with emotion, “I got together a posse of our leadin’ citizens, as you might say, an’ we come a-huntin’ for these here thieves what comes around in the middle of the night stealin’ from honest men. Much obliged to you, young fellers, for doin’ the job up so neat for us.”
“Don’t mention it,” said Frank. Will adding with a grin: