“Now, isn’t that too mean for anything, boys?” he remarked.
“What’s gone wrong now, Jack; I hope more of our provisions haven’t taken wings, and skipped out?” observed George; while Buster just sat there, hugging his fat knees and holding his breath while he waited to hear the worst.
“Oh! no; nothing like that,” came the answer, “but you see I had this coat on a good part of the morning, and I guess the paper must have got wet somehow, for there’s only part of the first page left; most of the account of the robbery is gone. But I’ll read you what there is, if you want. It’s the tail end, of course. Too bad it had to happen that way.”
“Go on, then, and let’s have what there is, Jack,” urged Josh.
“About where the lines begin to run even it starts in this way,” remarked Jack. “‘The only clues they have of the robbery consist, first of all, in several tools which Mr. Hasty, the blacksmith, identified as part of his machinist’s outfit, showing that they had entered his shop; and the fact that yesterday a dapper little naphtha launch, painted white, with a red band around the upper part, was known to be anchored just above town. Two parties occupied the same, one a well-dressed young fellow, with a sharp look about him; and the other a heavy man, more like a mechanic. The police have no doubt that these parties are the ones who broke into the bank, and cleaned out the vault. The smart looking young fellow must have planned the scheme. He was seen in the bank during the day, getting some information, and a big bill changed, and it is supposed that he took his bearings at that time he was chatting with the cashier. From the description the latter was able to give of his visitor it has been learned from St. Paul that the smooth faced young fellow was positively a well known and skilful crook called by the name of Slim Jim. The authorities hope to be able to get on to their track up or down the river shortly.’”
Just as Jack ended this report Buster was heard to give a startled cry.
“What ails him now?” demanded Josh, looking toward the fat boy.
“Just what I thought, he’s gone and overfed, and now he’s feeling a gripe coming on; he’ll sure burst some fine day,” grumbled George, groaning to think that all during the trip he must put up with such a rolypoly of a crew as Buster Longfellow.
“’Tain’t neither,” snapped the other, indignantly. “I c’n breathe as well as any feller present. I gave that little gasp-like because I was staggered, when Jack, he read about that trim little boat painted white, with the red trimmin’ around the gunnel. Want to know why, don’t you? Well, the fact is, fellers, I set eyes on that pirate craft myself, and not so very long ago either; fact is, just half an hour before we struck here. Now, what d’ye think of that, hey?” and Buster expanded perceptibly, doubtless feeling his own importance as the bearer of startling news.