“It’s a terrible state of affairs,” Sandy growled. “What will we do with him?”
“As duly appointed judge sitting on this case, I propose to make an example of you, John Toma. Prisoner before the bar, with malice aforethought, I do hereby sentence you to four hours of solitary slumber.”
“Without benefit of clergy,” supplemented Sandy.
“Without benefit of clergy and with his boots on.”
“Moccasins, your honor,” corrected the prosecuting attorney.
“All right,” Dick laughed, “without clergy and with moccasins tightly strapped about his ankles. Take him to his cell, sheriff.”
“I no understand what you try say me,” said the prisoner, a little bewildered.
“You’re to sleep four hours without stopping while Dick and I keep watch,” Sandy explained.
It was exactly three o’clock by Dick’s watch when the three boys emerged from the thicket to continue their interrupted flight. The rain had ceased falling and a few stars peeped out from between dark clouds, scudding before the wind.
“We’ll make a nice wet trail through the wet grass,” Sandy grumbled sleepily. “Almost anybody could follow us.”