At a signal from Mr. Hatfield, the Cubs closed about the boy in a tight circle.
“Hand over the rifle, Jack,” the Cub leader ordered. “You handle it very well for a boy of your age, but you shouldn’t have taken it from Mrs. Jones without her permission.”
“Aw, she never used it.”
“Nevertheless, it was her property. The rifle, Jack.”
The boy seemed on the verge of defying the Cub leader. Then, he thought through the matter, and with a gesture of contempt, extended the weapon.
“It ain’t loaded,” the boy muttered. “You got nothing to worry about.”
Mr. Hatfield checked the rifle for himself, finding that Jack had spoken the truth. Evidently he had used his last shot on the rabbit.
“What d’you aim to do? Turn me over to the cops again?”
“That depends on what you tell us, Jack. From the start, we’ve tried to give you the benefit of every doubt. Your remarks about the tin box, however, were disturbing.”
“I didn’t take the money!”