His triumph was short-lived. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw two figures who looked strangely familiar. In order to make sure, he turned his head and in that moment his self-confidence poured from him like water out of a bucket.
A tiny squeak, of the sort a mouse makes under the heel of an enraged householder, and his mittened hands went straight up. He came forward, bellowing for mercy. Tears of terror welled into his eyes. Never before had Dick seen any person more craven, cowardly-weak and utterly disgusting than he. Somehow, it blunted the edge of his own and Toma’s victory to take a man like that. It was too easy.
Startled at first, the onlookers broke into a roar of laughter. They were quick to grasp the situation. In a trice, the two boys and their prisoner were the pivot around which circled and revolved a jeering, highly-amused crowd.
“They ask ’em me to make ’em talk about how it all happen,” Toma shouted in Dick’s ear.
“Tell them that we’ll explain later,” Dick instructed. “Say that we want something to eat. Tell them——”
He broke off as the milling throng unexpectedly drew back, making a path for a white-haired old man, who carried himself with great dignity.
“Chief,” said Toma.
“You talk to him.”
“What I say?”
“Tell the truth, Toma. Nothing else. Explain to him that this man is a thief, that we followed him here to recover valuable mail and medicine for the sick. I’m sure he’ll believe you. Be honest and straightforward, Toma.”