“What in the dickens did you drop your pants for? If you aren’t a peach!”
I stiffened.
“Huh! Who let the window drop?”
That shut him up.
“Lookit all the money I’ve got,” our jailer cackled, when the Harmony Hustler came hesitatingly into the room.
“Well, well!”
“One of the kids was in sech a hurry to clean out that he furgot his pants. I found the money in the pocket.”
“Did you have some boys confined in this room, sir?”
The lock tender must have nodded in answer to the question.
“That’s what makes me feel so all-fired cheap—to be done this way by a parcel of boys in knee pants.”